Thinking About You (Song Series)

You occupy my 

thoughts more frequently these days;

But I don’t mind much.

I think about you 

in clouds and stars- you flow through

my head like a storm.

I don’t mind it much.

I don’t mind thinking about

your hands holding mine.

And I don’t mind you

punctuating my thoughts; it’s 

like roses blooming.

Lately, I’ve been caught 

up in my head more often.

But I don’t mind much.

Song- Thinking About You by Frank Ocean

Hi! So this poem is part of a new series of poems inspired by song titles or song lyrics. All the songs are songs I really like, taken from music I’ve downloaded. You can suggest songs as well! x

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Proxy

​I buy notebooks and fill them

with traces of your

vivid dreams, and

I buy notebooks just to write

your name in them, just

to hold them close when

I can’t hold you. 

I write in whispers these days-

silently. 

Stealthily.

Your body is a house I wrecked

a while back, but 

I still want it back.

I sneak in sometimes (when

you aren’t around) and

watch it 

slowly,

sneakily dissociate. You hide 

your love from

yourself: blame me. 

You carve yourself up: blame

me. You scream and watch

yourself bleed: blame it

all on me,

I don’t mind being the 

proxy between you and your

body, I don’t mind being the thing

you mistakenly

attribute your hurt to. 

I buy notebooks even now.

Fill them up

with traces of you.

Traces of your lips, lingering

on mine. 

I hold them close,

because

I can’t hold you.

Breathe

​Everything around me is bright, and

I’m squinting just to survive; 

everything around me is happy 

and I’m withdrawing further into

myself at every chance I get- I 

just want to live. I just want to

dance and be able to see the 

same sun everyone else is, not 

the one that’s tinged red, thats

tinged anger, that’s tinged bitter.

What will it take to make myself

whole? Today I stood on 

someone’s chest, but I was the one

who couldn’t breathe. Who wouldn’t

breathe. Is there even any 

between the two anymore? A boy

once told me that if I wanted to

write, I first needed to experience

things, I first needed to ‘shed some

blood’; Now I’m bleeding and I 

just want to fix myself. I just

want to breathe. I just want 

to be calm. calm. calm.