now | forever
tiffany yee writes

i like to practice writing because i want to get better. these are fairly new and part of my portfolio for a poetry class. notice the theme. or don't. yeah, i'd rather you didn't. it's silly.

1. WATCHING PLANES PASS OVERHEAD
they said not to wait
any moment now
she said “things...
are getting better every day”
but nobody believes her
no, not today.

and she gets tired
wants to lay down all day
hide from the things
that bite
the wounds still new
she remembers
it floods back

that boy smoked cigarettes
kinds that made her mouth taste funny
after a meeting
but don’t lie ‘cause she still
dreams of that same sticky smoke
filling her lungs.
she wanted to see rome
live in a flat
learn italienne
do as the romans do
practice art and work on writing
but don’t lie
‘cause she only wishes she could
starve like an artist
bathe in an old bathtub
(with feet)
no bubbles, just hot hot water.

2. SONG IN A MINOR CHORD / MOMENT
the wet empty streets shine
and we walk over them
there are
so many things
but he steals
the words from my mouth
takes them out
carelessly
crushes them in a devious way
returns them kindly and sits
acts like he knows
what’s best for me what’s best for us
while silence burns its own echo
writhes in my ears
stains my mouth with each second
I’d like to photograph this pretty little moment
black and white and defeated
look at it some other day
when it isn’t so hard to think
or breathe or just be
because as each minute bleeds into the next
I’ll think great things
how to condense the feelings
when a four letter word
can’t possibly do justice
400 miles away tomorrow
he will want more than this
I saw it then
I feel it now
and as I clench my hands into angry little fists
I am only disappointed
when reminded
that there are
so many things
I only wish I could say

3. STUDY
my eyes rest on
the stripes covering my pillowcase
I still see your sleeping body
laying next to mine
so close our noses touched
so still I saw you breathe
with each breath
your chest rose
chest fell

took pencil to page
five minutes only
drew in each hair
every tiny freckle
marked the shape of your face
the best I could manage
because it was unclear
if and when I’d get to see you so close again

my eyes rest on
the italian countryside
as it blurs by
colors becoming a series of lines
memories becoming dust on the tracks
I sit on the train
no one to speak to
think about the ocean between our two bodies
the space growing big and bigger
until we are at the opposite ends of the earth
open the familiar book to
the page of that one day
I watched you sleep
felt your heart
and wonder now
if you only wish
you kept a sketch of me

4. CAVE IN
they say that
people feel more empty
hollow even
when they have no hands
to hold

heart excessively full
(as if I was selfish)
wanting, waiting to give away
to cut away pieces of me

unwelcome by your tight lips
they do not wish
to miss me
kiss mine
rest on
breathe in
they only burn me

the parts I do remember clearly
laying
staring at the texture
written on the ceiling
so long
as if it could move

there are
many thoughts
I struggle to focus
and everything blurs
one glass becomes two
becomes three becomes ten

the past keeps me up all night like
hearing the birds scream before
the day breaks
as I break
I hold

5. BURIED IN THE VATICAN
quarter mile away the trees
sway slowly.
we lay still as corpses.
watch and breathe.
too hot for anything
but laying frozen.
wait for hot breezes

to blow.
take us away from
this tired city in a sleepy state,
where we were born and raised.

feel like and believe
everything and everyone is
growing and living around us.
they are.
life always seem so far away.
only a few oceans away.

find a small town in the quiet parts,
where they know no english,
away from the loud city
and the tourist’s flash.
find ourselves
drinking coffee late at night,
talking about nothing,
finding it means everything.

l e s s | m o r e