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Courtney Thorstein Poem
While my sister performs
we play, Amy and I.
The other room fills
with sharps and flats.
Quietly we laugh and
hope for an extra five.
I can here her talent,
envy and regret.
I do not need my session.
Stale popcorn and dolls
scattered on the green floor.
Eyes on the clock;
the hour has gone by.
The music stops.
Our time does too.
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein | Year Posted 2015
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Courtney Thorstein Poem
Warmth within orange flames,
lighting darkness.
With that power
comes danger.
You hurt my mother,
changed her...
inside and out.
Her confidence gone
replaced with anger
and hurt.
You have left your mark
with scars.
Do you need more?
That selfish pride of fire
needed more than weeks
in agony.
Years of regret
physical wounds
did not satisfy her.
Her mind changed.
Her poise, smile, outlook,
all altered.
My fear of you has grown.
Fireplaces no longer friendly.
Unlit candles, gifts unused.
When will you strike again?
Not on me.
I cannot lose
what you took from her.
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein | Year Posted 2015
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Courtney Thorstein Poem
I'm sad.
I love you.
Why are you angry?
Why do you think I'm so wrong?
I think you're wrong.
Why?
I don't know.
Is this working?
Dear god let it work.
I can't be without
you.
You love me.
I know this, beyond a doubt.
Why do I have to question it
then?
Please.
Please
Please
Please
Let's just be in love.
Forever.
I wasn't prepared
for the turmoil that comes
with love.
That's on me.
I know.
I'm sorry, please
be sorry too.
If you aren't,
this may not work.
But dear god
let it work.
Please.
I need every bit of you.
Every hair
every pore
every scar.
All of your heart.
Is that not fair?
Is it too much?
Tell me.
Tell me if I am asking
far too much.
But it is what I
need.
Could I exist without it?
I'm unsure.
Codependency.
Unhealthy?
Or
truth in love?
Where are the answers?
Who has them?
Anyone?
Buller?
The only certainty I own:
I love you, even when it hurts.
Even when you make me cry.
More when I make you cry.
Tears?
Do they equal love?
Is that what love is:
Loving someone so much,
that it hurts,
that it exalts all
Joy
Pain
Laughter
to a level I've never experienced?
I wasn't ready for what love means.
What it entails, all the happiness
and sorrow
and worry
and comfort
and fear.
All I ask is that you remember this:
I didn't know how to love until you.
I didn't know what it meant to be
truly in love with another soul.
Please be patient.
I'll try harder to learn quickly
what it means.
To love harder and with less fear
of you falling out of this love
we share.
Give me time, I'll listen to your
lessons on how to love.
Your life is the greatest gift
I've ever been given.
I adore, love, cherish, and am
enraptured by your very
existence.
I'm.astounded you love me
And I love you,
more that any word,
or poem, or note
could epitomize
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein | Year Posted 2015
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Courtney Thorstein Poem
I have never tried sauerkraut the name sounds as gross as the smell. Mother used to love it, her love of all bitter ideas, frankly that's her ruin: the annoyance of a woman who sees the best in all. That's why I hate most everything: still, we aren't so different. Oddly enough Dad thinks I'm just like him - which I am. our arguments are the worst; I clash more with mother though.Two strong-willed parents make an uneasy child, nerves and anxiety creating a false illness to live with forever. I am not a child anymore, I need to grow and develop myself. That's not even possible. I'm a mirror: what I see is what I am. What is put in front of me becomes me, flipped around in my own construed way. I was just like my parents, then my sisters, then my friends. Now I should be happy to be purely myself. The fear of who I might be holds me back. What if I disappoint myself, and deep down I am evil, dark, and secretive? Worse yet, what if I am plain and boring. My sense of superiority will crack, and self-doubt will seep in, and like a drug take over my life. That smell is disgusting.
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein | Year Posted 2015
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Courtney Thorstein Poem
A girl in a red hat, walking home from campus, looks up and sees an elderly man stepping out on the window edge of an aging apartment building. She considers the distance from the ledge to the ground and determines that the fall will surely kill him. She is busy memorizing the look of the man, slightly too tight clothes, patchy grey hair; a man notices her gaze upward.
He follows her eye-line, and upon seeing the old man he yelps, “don’t jump!” He dials emergency and explains the situation to an uninterested operator. A small crowd has gathered during his conversation, waiting for the man to make his decision. The girl wonders how old the man actually is, he can’t have much time left anyways.
A middle-aged woman joins the anxious crowd; she pats down her frizzy red hair while thinking of how great a story this will be to tell her husband. Tonight he will listen intently to her for the first time in months. “Do it man!” yells a teenage boy, approving of his show of rebellion against society. Quickly after, an old lady with crooked fingers thumps him on the head.
The old man sees the approaching brigade of cop cars. “I don’t have much time left anyways,” the man justifies his decision, and turns around ducking back into the building he draws the scarlet curtains, leaving a crack for sunlight to lay upon the dusty floor. A collective sigh of disappointment rises from the crowd and into his window. Its fine, what is one more upset in a life full of mistakes? The girl is the first to walk away; she remembers she has to pick up milk.
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein | Year Posted 2015
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Courtney Thorstein Poem
Cracked sidewalks create obstacles for bikes,
racing down to the big rock .
The older kids dangle from the porches,
smoking and laughing.
Ragged houses line the small street.
Some covered in signs of financial woe.
Foreclosure.
Little shoes on those porches,
too muddy to go inside.
The neighbors always yell
because they love each other.
The sky darkens;
porch lights on, TV's crackle.
The street is home.
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein | Year Posted 2015
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Courtney Thorstein Poem
Dreamland; a place of no boundaries. A place of several consequences, most in the light of morning. Sleepless escape, not from reality. The meaning unclear, the importance not. My mind is... absent. Void of liability, full of opportunity. Depths of night pass in mere seconds. There is my mother. Standing on grass, cracked and dehydrated. There for me. Blood in her ear, this is not real. Awaken relieved, albeit lonely. My mind still attached to the night, even in the sunrise.
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein | Year Posted 2015
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