Home » Poems » Best » Aubree Nelson » Best Aubree Nelson Poems

Best Poems Written by Aubree Nelson

Below are the all-time best Aubree Nelson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Emergency Contact

If I got hit by a car 2 years ago,
I would’ve called you.

And I would’ve ranted about how the driver was drunk
and I wasn’t even in the road,
and you’d make a joke about how he was aiming for me
to get my number from the insurance company.

And it would make me laugh hard enough
to forget my legs were broken.
If we ever made it to college,
you’d have been my emergency contact.

But 2 years ago,
I got hit by something worse than a car
and you didn’t pick up the phone,
so I had to deal with a broken spirit and no cure.

So, I’m grateful 2 years ago my contact was my mom,
but what do I do now?

Because I’m scared no one will answer my calls,
no matter who I write down.

In 1 week, it will have been 2 years since we fell apart,
and I always hoped I’d have a new contact by now.

And I do,
someone that made me wonder
why I ever wanted to call you in the first place.

Psalm 50:15

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Blank

Blank.

Trying to write and drawing a blank,
trying to fill all this empty space.

A year ago, I’d have filled it with you.
A year ago… or maybe two?
Or maybe three, or maybe four—
honestly, I can’t remember anymore.

What I can say for sure
is that filling the space ends up being such a waste—
of time,
of rhyme,
of uphill climbs,
of running through woods, getting scared of the vines.

I wasn’t scared of vines.
I was scared of the bridge.

The bridge you built when we were just kids,
and the book you burned when you said,
"It is what it is."

You can’t write novels on ashes, can you?
Maybe just the word—
"Sorry."

Sorry for burning the book,
or sorry for writing it at all?

I’m searching the soot for clues,
and realizing—
the soot is the clue.

There’s a difference between ashes and empty pages,
between unfinished novels and empty spaces.

You burned your book.
I kept mine.

The difference between us
is in between the lines.

You’re writing a new book,
and the ashes are gone.

I keep writing—
and won’t move on.

I refuse to burn the book.

It’s how I’ll keep from repeating history…
something I’m afraid
you’re already doing.

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Break

So, I’m home for winter break
and trying not to break
because I thought I could break away from my problems, my chains—
but my wrists break instead of the shackles.

I don’t want to be home—
I came back, and no one was home.

Just like the week before,
and the month before,
and the year before.

And when I think more,
I can’t remember the last time anyone was home.

I’m starting to think
that I don’t have any home mates.
Not housemates, not roommates—
they’re here, but they aren’t home.

Because home to me isn’t here.

It’s somewhere between love and fear,
somewhere between far and near,
somewhere I don’t have to hear from any of you—
about how I’m overreacting
and unprepared
and indecisive
and just, scared.

I know that.

That’s why I bought new bedding and towels and hangers.
That’s why I spent four months with so-called world changers—
just to feel like I’m no longer in danger.

The people in this house can’t see
I’m building a home somewhere else.
That’s why I came home and didn’t see them anywhere.

Because most days, home is wherever they’re not.

But I need them like water—
only, I can’t swim.

I’ll die with them and without them.

I had a semester-long break.

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

I Don’t Like To Run

I’ve never liked to run,
but when something’s coming for you there’s no other choice.

I started running in middle school
and I haven’t stopped until now.
Because what I was running from caught me,
and now I have to face it.

I’ve tried to stop before and it was the scariest time in my life,
and when I could run again, I ran faster than I ever had before.

I’ve seen everyone else running the race I was meant to run;
I’ve heard the gun go off and stood still.

When the gun went off, did I think I made the right choice?
I didn’t think about the race anymore,
and I didn’t worry about how far I still had to go
or how fast I was going
or how I looked
or how tired I was.

But I thought about how hard I worked to be there,
and how much energy I wasted.
And all the people who believed in me,
and how sad they’d be to hear I didn’t cross the finish line.

Today, some people let a gun go off that ends their race forever.
I wonder if they think the same way about their race as I do about mine.
And I wonder if they believe they made the right choice.

Because I don’t, but I’m still here.
And I’m still able to face my fears,
but I don’t have to run anymore to do it.

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Expensive

Everything has a price,
but some people may find a price to be higher than others do.

A rich person doesn’t blink at buying groceries,
but some consider theirs unaffordable.

The same goes for the one who is confident in how they look,
never overthink how much they eat.
But for some people, eating is expensive.

The cost is constant regret and insecurity.
And inflation rates are through the roof.

I had a dream that my old pastor started preaching about politics again,
And in the process, he deported Jesus from his own church.

He’d say, “I’d love to meet Jesus…
if he came to the US with the right papers!”
As if Jesus didn’t give him a passport for the kingdom of heaven.

In my dream I saw some members of the church give dirty looks to others,
some so hostile the targets walked out and never returned.

For those people, the price of attending church became too much.

There is no excuse for passing judgement on people in the name of your truth.
There is no excuse for making church too expensive
when the gift of salvation is free.

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Between Me and God

The reason I guess I thought I was an open book
is because every part of me or every secret I try to keep
is something that someone knows, but there’s only 1 who sees me entirely.

There’s a lot of things between me and God,
those things being the things I keep for myself.
There’s a double meaning here somewhere if you think hard enough.

They stay between me and God so they don’t come between me and you,
but it can’t stay this way forever.

New place, same people,
Same churches, same steeples.
Same stupid lies convincing me you’re not evil.

New year new me, but the old me disagrees.
Because to get your degree you have to shift a few degrees
and look from a new angle,
But I could never find the right one.

You can leave where you came from
but where you came from doesn’t leave unless you tell it to-
Unless you’re me, apparently.
Because I tell it to but my tongue trips over deleted screenshots
and people that I’ll remember longer than I’ve known,
so it’s more of a suggestion.

New place, same problems.
Same people that can’t solve them, only I can.
But only God knows if this time will be different.

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Thin Ice

Quiet sighs
and quick goodbyes,
and road-less-traveled-bys
have me wondering—
why are the biggest storms named after people?

I could fall for a tornado,
get lost in the beauty of its eye,
and dance with it—
until the storm runs dry.
Or until I die.

I was standing on the thin ice
between falling in love and falling for lies,
only, I couldn’t tell which it was.

But I ended up finding
the solid rock on which I stand—
only, stepping off feels like
the only way to be who I am—
(not who I’m meant to be).

And sometimes,
I see the freezing waters in my dreams,
and they call me back.

I think I’m still directionally challenged,
because I forget—
they never answered my calls,
much less called me back.

New year, new me—
yeah, well, I disagree.

You can make a new playlist
and call it what you like,
but at the end of the day—
it’s the same old songs
with different artists.

The same game
with a different name.

Funny.
It’s not a game,
but it’s a "play" list.

Riddle me this:
Why do I feel like the lead
in a show that keeps changing characters,
but never the plot?

Same lessons.
Same wins.
Same losses.

And I’m so tired of losing.

Now—
if I could just remember which way the fourth wall was,
I could finally shatter it—

like thin ice...

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Lost

I used to think we couldn’t be friends because of how much you’d changed.
When we met, we were both two lost little girls who needed a lost little girl to go from being lost to found.
Because it’s pretty difficult to be lost when someone tries to find you every day.

I remember the night we promised we’d always find each other;
Even if I burned your map or you shattered my compass.
But one day I woke up and realized that I was alone.
Yet saying we couldn’t be friends because you’d changed doesn’t feel right.
I mean, the river never broke my trust, and it changes all the time.

So maybe our friendship was meant to be temporary—
A truce between the ever-changing river and the unchanging I,
With the river being gentle enough to hold me until it was time to push me away.
I couldn’t swim against the current forever, and one day I had to embrace the bigger pond as home.

But I never stopped looking for you,
And I’ve got the compass shards in my hands to prove it.

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Perfect and Petty

Best schools, best aids, best clubs, best grades,
She spent years on end playing perfect charades.
Best house, best friends—good girl, but she fades,
Because all her parents did was point out her mistakes.

“Did you clean the house—walk the dog—make your bed—wash your car?
How many times can I say lazy won’t get you very far?”
And she hated the people who did better than she could,
And she hated the people who did things different than she would.

She’d fight with all her might, from day break till night—
She was snide and she’d lie and she’d beg till she’d cry.
Till all that she’d had became just out of sight.
She never felt like enough; doomed to fail from the start.
Because being perfect and petty was tearing her apart.

Details | Aubree Nelson Poem

Sun and Moon

The sun and the moon will always be connected
but almost never together,
because the moon likes to keep her distance.

The sun does her work for all to see
but the moon gets to do hers judgement free.

And everyone loves the sun when she paints the sky
but never when she stares at them for too long,
they get burned by her affection.

But the moon’s never done anything wrong,
not that anyone’s aware of.
She can glance as long as she likes,
she just may not get many returning gazes.
Only from those dreading to see the sun again.

And the sun doesn’t know,
but the moon grows jealous of her light
because even stars outshine her.

People who do look at the moon think she’s beautiful,
and the waves crawl up the shore just to be closer to her.
But she doesn’t think so.
She thinks they’re just too far away to tell.

All they see is the sun in small doses, but never her.
It’s fine, she prefers to be peripheral.

The sun loves her because she sees herself in the moon,
but she hates her for being so cold and distant.
They’re never together for longer than a moment.
If she stays far enough away, no one will find what she’s hiding.