‘sadderdaze’ & ‘4183 / 3524 / 2042 / 1961’ by Caroline Grand-Clement

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sadderdaze

there are some days when the line between self care
& giving up becomes too blurred to make out.
on those days, i do not change my routine;
i do not try to catch up on the sleep i have deprived myself of;
i do not try to give myself the mental space to breathe.
on those days, i am so scared to move i barely move at all.
if i am scared it will lead me to you.
i do not want this to be another love letter to my self destruction.
it is not lovely or poetic.
it is laying on the kitchen floor because you promised
your best friend not to lay down anywhere else.
it is making those kind of promises to make sure
you do not break down in the middle of class or of a corridor.
it is laying down on the school floor anyways, sometimes.

sometimes: a word that means “now and then”.
a word that means, there are days when i am not like this,
i swear. there are days when i laugh at your jokes.
there are even days when i paint you my favorite song
& say i love you, & mean it.
but today, is “now and then”; today is sometimes.
so today, forgive me if i complain without accepting any of your solutions.
i am still trying to solve this equation, but it keeps on changing.

4183 / 3524 / 2042 / 1961

it is no particular hour / a place between places / i hear your voice from the clouds / & the sound that settles in the silence of your tongue / 850 kilometers per hour away / from the pitless fear of losing you / if i squeeze my eyes shut i won’t hear my heart breaking / after you slam the door / i am still building you the castle i promised / the barn / the goats / the trees / water flowing from anywhere / but your eye sockets / only luck / i throw pennies at you until you turn copper blue / my only wish / to melt in the light of your arms / the sun never sets / we are falling through the clouds / leave all our organs in the air above our sin / time stretches like chewing gum caught in your hair / shave it off / throw it to the wind / corals have heard of our love / deep as your voice /

Caroline Grand-Clement is a seventeen years old, half-time poet, half-time student at an international school in Lyon, France. She dreams of art in any form, falling stars & late night conversations. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Beyond the Shallows, an anthology by L’Ephemere Review, Rose Quartz Journal, and elsewhere. She takes part in the school magazine as writer & co-editor. You can find her on Twitter, Tumblr or Instagram @octopodeshearts.

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