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Kelli Hall Poem
You summoned my surrender and so I succumbed to you,
not to your fierceness but to your beauty.
in the light you flirt with the masses
but when the moon comes up, she pulls you to me and me to you
but this love is one sided for in no way are you mine
only that I am yours
I can hardly think around you as your tranquil rhythm buries my thoughts
for within you is a pattern so complex I will never understand
a pattern that can take any victim it likes
but tonight it chooses me
in the morning you’ll be transparent with the world
you show me only mystery
only secrecy
somehow more special than the superficial truths you reveal to others
for although it is darkness it is powerful and it is only mine to revere
even as I leave, you continue to call me
But our spell ends at sun up
when once again you turn to pleasing others and I am left loving you like them.
i will wait for your beckon
never ceasing my humble desire
only patient for your honored reciprocation
Copyright © Kelli Hall | Year Posted 2019
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Kelli Hall Poem
When you stand under a waterfall you can't hear anything except the pounding water against your well-tuned ears. A flourish of a thousand whispers imploringly narrate their story to you of a thousand miles. Fortunately for you, you can't hear a thousand whispers at once. When you're under a waterfall, you can't be bothered with the individual stories of a thousand whispers. When altogether, they are only one
soothing
hush.
Unfortunately for you, the world is no waterfall. And while there are plenty of whispers, there are also shouts and taps and bangs
and sniffles and clicks
and breathes and whirs and smacks.
And the sounds of the real world have no desire to tell you their story but only to exist. Only to latently rile you.
People should be more self aware. People should look up for once. People should think about others around them more often. People should shut the hell up.
Remember the last time you were anxiety free for a whole day? Yes no no the barista was chewing gum. Further back? Yes yes no your friend wore high heels. A bit more? Your 16th birthday. Concert tickets, swimming at the lake, karaoke, and your mom made your favorite for dinner with the family. Oh. right. Dinner with the family will always do it for ya.
No pasa nada. While everyday may have a fraction of anxiety, and every hour a fraction less, count all the times when everything has been okay. There must be more moments of “i'm content and nothing is wrong” than “I wish I was standing under a waterfall”.
Your life is a negative of the night sky, a dazzling star dotted with points of acute darkness.
I wish i could stand under a waterfall all day long but i'm no mermaid and id get water in my ears. But maybe then i wouldn't hear.
Copyright © Kelli Hall | Year Posted 2019
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Kelli Hall Poem
Somehow the aching work to enthuse, to impress, to win over
Ends in a showboating mess of half acquainted neighbors
“Your friends with everybody” rings in my head as though she said “everyone thinks your funny but nobody would rely on you
Confide in you
Stand up for you”
I somehow still believe the narrative that if I change my environment again I can start over
And that things will be different
That building relationships takes luck and if you mess up the first time you have to begin with a tabula rasa because you aren’t flawed or socially inept no it’s always something else
Unlucky though because there have been plenty of trials
And the hypothesis is incorrect.
Me, the control, has not changed
And every variable has been unsuccessful in making me anything more than well liked.
In conclusion,
I am flawed
I am socially inept
I am petrified at the idea of living much longer without love
And I know i know i know I am loved but I am
woman/human/girl/solid/liquid/gas
And
I ask for a love that feels like learning something new
I ask for a love that lays its arm on my waist in the middle of the night
I ask for a love that lets me shimmy and shout and squirm
I ask for a love that mustn't need to last forever but long enough to teach me that I am capable
Copyright © Kelli Hall | Year Posted 2019
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Kelli Hall Poem
The mirror cannot differentiate myself from the crimson comforter i'm drenched in
Mom never let me eat in bed and now i sleep in crumbs.
The lucky spider lurking up the window sill will live on-
A messy tangle that lacks serotonin is its savior tonight
Scattered sacred sentiments screaming
“She was something else before all this happened!”
Copyright © Kelli Hall | Year Posted 2019
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