the same grief / a different day (and other collected poems by Yoana Tosheva)

By Yoana Tosheva | @yoanatosheva8


the same grief / a different day


I’m feeling like everyone’s messy child but without the joy / only the spilled milk or sharpie drawings on the walls /

no one has held my hand in so long / and the squirrels in the front yard chew so loudly / and my mom is always clanking pots and plates in the kitchen so there’s never any silence /

when another version of you left like it was so easy to there was a sinking pit of regret in my stomach / and my heart shriveled up like a dry sponge /

I was still surprised but without reason because the leaving is predictable like the seasons / or a creeping loneliness / or rain in April /

I don’t notice the smell of the smoke anymore / you know /

but it clings to my jacket / and my hair / like an old kind of sadness / and my brother crinkles his nose / and my friends worry /

and I can’t stop because it’s an exercise in sacrifice / and what’s a little death / if it means a clear head /


Futile Endeavors (I think I'm still)


I think I was asleep walking home from the party /

I think the party was real but it was also a symbol for my mistakes /

I think your lips were rose petals that turned into thorns /

I think the line could have been powdered sugar for my pancakes in another lifetime /

I think I deserve better but I don’t know where to look for it /

there are broken countries / and glasses / and eggshells inside of me / and I still haven’t named them / I still haven’t swept them I still haven’t thrown them in the dustbin / or tried to glue them back /

I just run my hands through and through like it’s some sea glass /

I’m still sitting on my front porch chain-smoking cigarettes like you might pull up any minute now /

I’m still listening to the same song on repeat like I could maybe possibly stop all of time until you’re ready /

I’m still waiting and you are already so far away /


Painful Daydreams


You are splitting me open like cracked watermelon on the sidewalk /

Like picking off the peeling wallpaper /

You’re moving like it’s so easy to cut through thick ice / or all this tension /

You know I don’t care what you think / I don’t need you /

Yet I like to entertain what it would be if I did /

How easy we’d fit in your car / how simple it would be to love you /

But you know these are only daydreams


///


I looked directly at the sun today /

That kind of blinding light remains visible when you close your eyes / even minutes after /

And the tattoo on my sternum was a living breathing thing /

And the wind is no home / but rather / another traveler /

Or perhaps a stray dog /

That can lick your scraped knees for a single bone / and leave you alone /

And the trees are rioting in the front yard / even though the sun is out /

They no longer wish to be rooted / and I never have been / so it’s something we have in common /

And you are all radio silence / but I can never stand the quiet /

Not with a heart like this /


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