falling and growing

and on the eighth day 

of torture and forgetting 

 

we fell like flowers 

rooting for each other 

when our petals have fallen 

too quick

 

we fell like broken glass 

laying on the same floor 

unable to come back together 

afraid to touch the pieces 

fearing that it could cut 

 

we fell like baby teeth 

growing old of each other 

letting new teeth take place 

in the palace of our mouths. 

 

and on the ninth day 

of torture and forgetting 

 

we grew like trees 

without violent words 

that blew down each others branches 

we learned to let go. 

 

so that on the tenth day 

we could bloom 

 

alone. 

 

– j.ds 

The Iris Garden at Giverny, 1900, Claude Monet

the iris

At the Iris Garden of Giverny there’s a path that always lead me to you 

the strawberry pink hues of the flowers reminded me of our first kiss

underneath the blooming apple trees, 

i thought of your lips on mine 

where you solemnly swore they would never meet. 

 

the sunlight quivered through the branches 

as if she was giving birth to mother nature for the first time. 

and i looked towards you – the earthy path 

while all the memories flooded within me. 

 

remembrances of you

swam in my soul like the bleeding blues, 

the delphinium gems, 

of mother natures 

first breath. 

 

– j.ds

the anatomy of a promise

the anatomy of a promise is filled with complications 

promises are prone to seizures and migraines 

she holds a broken brain at the top of her skull

where sudden movements cause mindless thoughts to erupt 

like a volcanic embassy of purple matter 

spilling down her spine 

creating a secure sadness 

a seatbelt of despair 

 

rushing like a river down her frail body 

the anatomy of a promise is filled with disappointments 

mixed messages and some even left unsaid 

 

she holds a broken heart in the center of her chest

where her words were supposed to heal another’s mistrust

sweet like the gift of a lover’s sweatshirt 

calm like the midnight waves on the Suffolk county shore. 

 

the anatomy of a promise is filled with emptiness 

promises are prone to missing meals and nausea 

she gives up food for love so easily 

like a mother bird feeding its child first 

the day after a storm. 

– j.ds

to record your message please wait for the beep

hi/i just wanted to call you and i… i don’t know/ i miss you, does that even make sense?/i don’t know why i keep thinking about you but your name is imprinted in my mind and i…/i’m sorry for calling i don’t know why i even did/how have you been?/what’s new in california are there any pretty girls you have your eyes on/ugh/i don’t really want to know the answer to that/well if you have the time to listen to this just delete it from your phone/i/i don’t really know why i even called you/i miss hearing your voice/and i/i wish i could hear it one more time/oh something funny/there’s this guy besides me smoking a cigarette and it reminded me of that night with you and me/when you just finished surfing and wanted to smoke one/remember the way i looked at you?/i was definitely not okay with you smoking but you did it anyways/it’s funny/i wasn’t okay with a lot of things when i was with you/but i stayed/i always stayed/it’s… funny/all you had to do was lie and that’s it/i left/or/you left/but i still miss you/why do i miss you/do you miss me?/don’t answer that/i’m sorry for calling/this was a stupid idea/just forget i ever called/ 

 

  • j.ds

in sickness and in health – what coronavirus means in relation to love & loneliness

in times of fear we stay close to those who have taught us the true meaning of love

a virus by the name of a beer my closest companions are familiar with,

now associated with death and sickness

but through sickness and health those who know the meaning of devotion

share it together through intimacy of the entanglement of their hands

 

it’s such a funny thought 

 

where our germs lay the most

we combine our fingertips with another

because we are so afraid of not having that person within arms reach.

to let go is to say goodbye and to say goodbye is

expecting the worst.

 

i witness those masking their facial expressions so that any sight of happiness cannot be found

every hour of every day

even while driving with the windows down with no single sight of another person in the car

 

how can we express love to each other when our mouths are forever hidden?

how can we greet somebody without wrapping one another like a gift on christmas?

will there ever be Christmas parties or gatherings without masks?

 

in times of fear we stay close to those who have taught us the meaning of love

a virus by the name of a beer my closest companions are familiar with,

now associated with death and sickness

but through sickness and health those who do not know the meaning of devotion

do not share it together through intimacy of the entanglement of their hands

 

instead

 

they share their own devotion towards the media and trepidation

leaving them with nothing but their own

loneliness

hidden

underneath a mask.

 

– j.ds

the sound of death, wondering where god wanders, & the pain of experiencing something new

anxious thoughts

 

feeling like my mind is trapped on mars 

Inanimate objects flying like shooting stars

my heart is beating to the sound of 

fireworks fluttering like butterflies 

onto targets 

 

where is God? 

 

is he hovering above listening to the sounds of bullets

or is he watching as thousands are dying

in this world where occasionally positives 

could light up smiles on people’s faces

but negatives leave other’s faceless, nameless, 

sometimes even dug up in a casket in a cemetery 

that is rarely ever visited. 

 

will his tears rain down from the clouds as 

a storm begins to form in the sky? 

will he ever rise 

could he ever bring back those we’ve lost? 

 

anxious feelings 

 

thoughts of death crawls up my spine 

There’s an aching feeling in my right shoulder

from a day where i thought i could feel 

powerful 

only left to feel 

powerless.

– j.ds

ballet dancers, boyfriends, and gunfire; my mind in a shooting range

my emotions masked like a 

faceless demon

it’s hard to hide these 

anxious feelings 

all i want is to unleash the tears

that are aching to crawl out 

my heart stops beating 

every second i see him 

and the words that tumble 

from his mouth. 

 

he asks me what my deal is 

if only i knew 

i wish to be happy 

and not this blue. 

 

i’m fearing this demon within me 

will rip through my soul 

spiritually i’m happy, 

emotionally, not whole. 

 

i wonder what life would be like 

without a gun

would people wander freely 

instead of fearing or having to run? 

 

i sit here watching as bullets

are being fired 

like ballet dancers swiftly dancing

so is the gun fire. 

 

i wish instead i could watch them twirl 

instead of hearing the empty sounds 

of a pistol hurl

hurling at a pretend target of a person’s skull

that my mind immediately replaces 

to being my body. 

 

am i dead or alive? 

 

i am left all alone every time 

even the one who i care for most 

leaves me behind. 

 

i gaze from a distance 

waiting to see if he can notice

something’s missing

my lack of appreciation 

is merely just my body shaking

from the sounds of pop pop pop 

my heart keeps stop stop stopping 

and it’s getting harder to breathe. 

 

i am adjacent to a red shed

a place i keep picturing that i will be 

stuffed into, found dead

hopefully, it doesn’t come to this. 

 

but my mind is a dark place 

a dance floor for negative thoughts 

to swirl and plié

i am slowly fading away 

maybe god will carry me 

into the cloudless sky 

and make me feel somewhat

okay.

– j.ds

pain

There are days where I wonder what a painless life would feel like. If all emotions simply dissolved into air, nothingness, the sound of a pin dropping at the expense of somebody’s life ending. What would life be if people were just happy. If smiles could brighten someone’s body like lanterns, our veins pumping within us simply by someone’s positive electricity. A conversation would feel like music notes moving soundlessly between each breath. Inhaling and exhaling a great feeling of power, being able to shift someone’s entire state of mind. I wonder what beauty would taste like. If I could take a bite out of an apple, and instantly make the doctors go away because I am simply too beautiful for them. 

 

There is beauty in pain but I want a painless beauty. I want to be able to hold somebody without fearing that their soul is a wandering ghost. Living their life with sadness, desperately trying to find the other side. Is there even a heaven on the other side? Is it even beautiful? How can we hope for something we do not necessarily know exists? 

 

When I look at myself in the mirror I see frozen raindrops on my skin, hours of weeping rests on my arms taking shelter. I hide these moments on my body hoping that whoever undresses me will not see the slits of pain, the goosebumps of fear that rises like flames, I am a fire waiting to be burnt out. I live with a repeating vision that lingers longer than it should. Like a cigarette that still glows after stepping on it. A vision that causes my heart to shiver but causes the frozen rain drops to melt. I am slowly melting by the thought of every single person who has hurt me. 

 

There are fireworks exploding in the eyes of those I devour, blueberries bleed in spirals while the green grows like alpine trees. I am transformed by his colors – beauty bled within me. But I’m afraid to let my blood drip. I’m afraid to let another person take a dip into my soul, to let parts of me open up, causing everything inside to spill out. I envision my physique parting away. I will no longer be whole, a missing puzzle piece lost in a home.

– j.ds