I Would Leave Me If I Could: A Collection of Poetry

by Halsey

I see all things in this world as more beautiful than I, and I spin the details of their atoms in every paragraph and brushstroke. I wish I had 11 hands with 55 fingers so I could paint and write and fuck and feed and grab grab grab everything.

you got a brand-new bedroom. a clean set of sheets I’ve never seen. thread count’s pricey, for your wifey. i know she don’t make the bed like me. never seen a Persian rug look so homely never heard a sadder voice than when you phone me. are you lonely? you said it’s time for some renovations. time for conversation. but I flipped houses bigger than you before.

Girls better than me. Who had learned to turn their trauma into adventures

Been biting my tongue till it bleeds cry over things I don’t need. My mother told me pick your battles wisely but you made me angry at the world so I chose them all.

There’s a love/hate relationship with noise in my brain. Except for when you speak my name. Because you take it in vain. (Take it in vein!) I could fall asleep here. Crawl inside the sleeping bags under your eyes. But I stay awake to memorize.

A hostage situation. I know I should, but I can’t leave you all alone somewhere. I know you don’t, but I still care. This Stockholm syndrome might just be the death of me.

My new house is clean and the sky’s always blue. I sing in the shower and I walk around naked. I love my whole body though you once made me hate it. I eat lots of pancakes and drown them in honey. I’ve made lots of handshakes and made lots of money. I smile and sigh when I crawl into bed ’Cause there’s no more scar tissue inside my head. I heard what you’re up to I’m glad that I left. I feel like myself again deep in my chest.

You know what they say, the all-consuming rage and unbearable shame, of you losing me, was as likely as the rain.

Can you hear the silence of being alone? The deafening stillness of everything you’ve ever known? Put on pause like a VHS tape A full-on heartbreak And you whine and cry and it echoes through the static of a television set.

Does a ghost know that he’s a ghost? Does a saint know that she’s forgiven? If no one knows, then I don’t know if I might be the villain. I don’t trust the author anymore.

I’m having another bad day. My tongue is twisted my words come out like venom. I only use my armor when you frighten me. Stuck in the middle of “I love you” and “I can’t take this anymore.” These things they come and go and I mean half of everything I tell you. I’m half of everything I hate, and half of anything I create is you too. So I start to hate the poems when I hate you.

You are choking with his hand in your neck and his fist around your heart. Your aorta pulses. And so does your aching pussy. You write to calm the craving. To corner them in fiction And say Finally, I have conquered you.

I am the fun girl. I am the spit hanging down from your tongue girl. I’m the choke me as hard as you can girl. I’m the give it all up for a man girl. I’m the plaid skirt and white knee-high socks girl. I’m a pistol that’s loaded and cocked girl. The don’t mind when you call me a slut girl. I’m the smack her real hard on the butt girl. I’m a swallow my feelings and lie girl. I’m a lie there and let him inside girl. ’Cause I don’t wanna make him get mad girl. I’m the better off being bad girl. ’Cause then nothing hurts when they leave, girl. Except with his grip on your sleeve, girl. You say yes to the threesomes and drinks girl. ’Cause you still really care what he thinks girl. You’re not boring or mean like his old girl she was crazy, or that’s what you’re told, girl. So you’ll get further if you are the fun girl. But you’ll never be the only one girl. You’ll get older and wish you had known girl. ’Cause you gave way too much of your soul, girl. Now you don’t expect men to be kind girl. You just use them and leave them behind girl. It’s so hard to grow up as the fun girl. You’ll be trapped in your days as a young girl. A memory, for men you loved girl.

I will dive in your DNA. I will stay here, patiently, comatose in the wake of your everything-ness. Your all. I will make permanent residence right here in your acquaintance.

And now 50,000 war cadets would cower at this small brunette. To my surprise, not 6 feet high, who’d reach and grab the moon, if I should ask, or just imply that I wanted a bit more light, so I could look inside his eyes, and get the colors just right. I spent a long time calling all my parts by evil nicknames, and I told myself they hate me too. But you spent a long time, tending to a home that’s burning in flames and your patience made me love you. Build love, build god, build promises build calluses, then build provinces ’cause I have found somebody who would build life, then demolish it. And we could simply hit rewind, to live it all a thousand times find views in fucking Kathmandu, to watch it from a different height (and we’d comment how the sun shines) I searched the world to find you hiding inside me the whole damn time.

So love your neighbor. Please treat her kindly. Ask her her story, then shut up and listen. Black Asian poor wealthy Trans Cis Muslim Christian Listen.

FOREVER CURSED IN LOVE ARE THE OBSERVANT My mouth tastes like cinnamon whiskey and menthol cigarettes. Cabernet Sauvignon, spearmint gum and your hot heavy breath. My mouth tastes like all the things I should have said. I don’t want to be this way, but I have been since you left. I should have never counted your eyelashes when you slept. I should forget the way you take your tea, but it haunts me. 2 sugars, please.

This is to remind you that you are a lover. That you melt at a glance at a touch. That you are a baby. You are soft and fragile and you need someone to tell you that everything is going to be okay. That you are an idiot and you are going to fuck up 1 million more times the rest of your life. But this is to remind you that you are a statue, gilded in marble, and there is white lightning in your eyes. Change shape. Give in.

Think I like me better when I’m all outside the lines.