6/26/24 10:21pm
You may struggle to admire the tree-blistering love inside of me
a self-inflicted ache between each rib
but I’ll write it out each morning before you wake
A trumpet of the things I would do with the whites of your eyes
wiping away a canvas’ promise and a fistful of
declarations Ideas I can’t seem to put in tune
Just a lapful more water than we thought
snug in two-tone keys
drawn together as friends acquaintances peas and crosspaths
never eyes and ears
never loving like lovers
Wounds baked in cherry-etched dishes but it tastes like
everything I’ve ever wanted to say you’ve wanted to hear
Curling streams of forgotten loves
I could never forget your sunrise poem
Three lines to keep you fed
Trees blossom or blister in gravesites next to our bed
Will you come to admire the unknown knowledge I’ve carved in our walls
if the whites in my eyes are no longer red
— ODH
About the Creator
Olivia Dodge
22 | Chicago
ig: l1vyzzzz & lntlmate
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6/12/24
6/12/24 I am writing on a screen made of lost words and the day is Wednesday (I’m usually off on Wednesdays) / The hair on my shins is tickling me out of every trance (the ones that happen inevitably every fourteen minutes or so) and I have never been so in love with the life I am living (I love you) / I could be anywhere outside of these walls but I could never be without the breakage they leave behind / Little flames of devotion keep our shelves lit through the night (we’re both scared of the dark) (I love you) / I’ll tell you the debris is something my mother gave us so we can stay here until sunrise / but your hands tell me you will not be the one to pick it up (we can leave all of this behind us) / Outside is warm enough without glass-trapped intimacy a fingertip’s length away– what does it mean to be envious of her transparency? / What does it mean to be furious that mine is smudged with black ink, tarnished with oil and grease? / There are a thousand writers in my grave not yet dug and each and every one of them is begging for your love (I love you).
By Olivia Dodge10 days ago in Poets
Letter to our Queer & Trans Youth
Hey, you. I thought I’d start this letter by telling you a little about myself, just so you know who you’re dealing with. I’m an emotional dad, father to three amazing kids who we met through the foster care system, and whose presence in our lives has really transformed my sense of responsibility to the communities that surround us. The connections we’ve made with one another, with our extended families, and with the communities where we live and look for belonging have catapulted us into this whirlwind of emotional tumult which, while not easy by any stretch of the measure, has also been remarkably healing. I realize ours is really only a one-sided chosen family, since our kids didn’t get to choose to live here, but I’d like to think that they did choose to let us love them, which allowed them to grow to love us. And I think that’s where I want to go with this letter- to a place where you can find belonging and healing- even if the pathway there may be peppered with some emotional tumult.
By F Cade Swanson7 days ago in Pride
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