I Wrote A Poem About My Crush and Read It To Them

Straightened my back learned to
Speak with confidence
What words to emphasize
When to
For dramatic effect
Read all the greats
Neruda, Cummings,
Bukowski, Path,
Studied prose and stanzas said
“Fuck it all”
Wrote it in run-on paragraphs first
Typed changed the font
Fourteen times,
Printed each out with varying shades of black
Penned with red, blue
Ball, fountain and quill

Spilled coffee, whiskey,
KBC’s “November Gale”,
In small condensation rings,
Late nights soaked paper
Burned the corners, caught fire
Continued to drink, to smoke,
A month’s long binge
Consecrated one:thirty-six,
The poem written not quite happy, how
Could it be? But not sullen or bitter
It was romantic and endearing
In a clay somber kinda way,
Spent thirty-two days in dive bars, at sad
Parties mostly under old growth cedar trees, struggling
To create the perfect medium to speak
As loud as the poem itself,
To stand alone as a testament: a novel,
It had to be something

It was slightly thicker,
Rough and left to breathe
Without being choked by those small blue lines-
Old calligraphy paper,
Naturally aged, torn and yellowed,
Half composed on a typewriter,
Each smudged letter grew faint and uneven,
Stopped on the word “starry”
Scrawled the last bit desperately
With a gas station pen,
Put vast spaces between
“you ”
“autumn leaves”
“the ground beneath”
The ashes of a dead American Spirit
Swiped carbon and cancer across,
Erasing “emotions” and “kiss”,
Craft beer spilled without caution
Whiskey in planned minimal drops.
I read it sober,
Or so I thought,
Back straight and confident,
In the privacy of some sad college party,
You looked at me,
Your blue eyes showing
Bittersweet ,
Lip bit nervously
“It’s sad” you said,
“It’s about you”
“I know”


Author: Montana Svoboda

I'm a genderless poet currently living in Central Michigan where I attend college for Environmental Science and English. Nature's some cool shit, frisbee's a neat activity, fountain pens are best pens, Latakia for life, coffee and tea keep these gears turning.

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