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About Literature / Artist Member Grae MatternFemale/United States Recent Activity
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lol well



597 deviations
the phone rings again; pick it up.
today, the boss asked her when you're
coming back to work. she says she doesn't know
when the last time you got out of your house was.

you're not sure either. not all pain is fleeting.
not all pain is bright and hot. sometimes, it's
just decay.

through the phone, she talks like the sun filtering through
newborn leaves. she is miles and miles away from
the hurricane that is battering your shoreline.
she wants to know when you'll be able to look her in
the eye again. 'the boss is thinking of giving away your job,'
she says. 'when will you be over this?'

you don't know what you should tell her.
'did you know,' you start, 'that years after
the Mexico City earthquake in 1985, citizens
walked around thinking they still felt aftershocks
in the soles of their feet?' break off
halfway through another word. stop. start again,
voice shaking. 'did you know that more soldiers in the iraq war
have died by their own hand than by that of an enemy's?'

voice shaking, hands shaking. hang up. it rings again,
but you know already that tomorrow you will not be
here to hear it, you will be at work, wearing all white
like a flag of surrender. when they ask you if you are okay,
when they ask you if you are fine, nod and smile.

there is no way to describe a war to someone
who has never been on the frontline.
on salting the field and winning the war
title if there were no character limit: "on salting the field and winning the war but losing yourself"

(i know, the title is, like, half as long as the poem)

so today i went to a writing workshop in Nashville and it was a pretty fun way to spend my saturday considering that i was a. awake at 6 to get ready and leave my house for the drive up there, and b. surrounded by people i don't know.

but, like, everyone there was really cool and it was great to meet people who either want the same things as i do or, like, understand what i mean when i say that 'i, um, write a bit sometimes. like a hobby.'

so in the poetry workshop i spent all day in (it was called Poetry Intensive--tbh it was pretty intense), one of the poems we were assigned to write was an abstraction poem. the teacher (?) gave us a crumpled sheet of paper with an abstract concept on it and we had to write a poem in twenty minutes that was about that word but did not mention it.

ironically, mine was 'sadness'. i'm like, 'didn't i just do this?' but instead of copping out and rewriting an old poem, i did this monstrosity. at the end of the day, there was an assembly kind of thing with an open mic and this was the one i read (which was terrifying--I'm not good at reading poetry holy shit). so, enjoy.

(p.s. we wrote three poems and i will be putting the other two up tomorrow sometime)
if this were a movie, this would be the moment
i break down crying in your arms and i tell you
every little thing about myself that i’ve learned
to hate at four in the morning when i wake up
and ask myself why i’m still alone and you would piece my world
back together with your hands and a simple phrase and i would
no longer want to cry all the damn time and i would
want to leave the house and  actually end up leaving the house
and if this were a movie that would be the climax and
that would be the ending scene, us

falling to the ground, me in your arms,
me with my make up running, me thanking god
that i met you, you holding me, you pressing your face to my
hair, you thanking god that you were able to get to me in time

and if this were a movie you would hold my hand

through turning off ovens and locking
the backdoor at night and you would cook dinner on the nights that
i can’t get out of the bedroom and you would eventually figure
out not to worry about me when i disappear on thursday nights because
you will know that i am in a church parking lot somewhere
in the bible belt and i am sitting on my car and looking up at the sky
and i am listening to the music swell and i am thinking of you and i am
waiting for the screen to fade to black.

this is not a movie and when you ask me how my day has been,
i will say stressful and laugh and you will not get
the joke because no one has thought to give you a script.
this is not a movie and i wake up like clockwork every morning
at four and watch the sun come up and wonder if this
was the night that i forgot to flip the lock at the door
and if this will be the day i burn my shaking hands on the oven.
i wake up to ending credits playing in my head and i wake
up calculating the cost of train tickets out of the state and i wake up
alone and what i’m really trying to say

is that i wake up
so alone and i reach over to the other side of the bed
and nothing is there but more nothing.
exit stage left
really quick, really short, just something i was thinking about when someone asked me how i felt a couple of days ago. so, here is a response? kind of. i just like the idea that when someone asks you something, you can say one thing and just run through an entire movie in your head. it's like you're at a crossroads and you could go either way, and you can just see it play out in your head and it all happens in, like, a millisecond so there's not even a noticeable pause between his/her question and your response. just, wow man, the human brain just completely and totally blows my mind.

(fun fact, it's how i picked my pen name because Grae Mattern sounds pretty close to gray matter, which is a lot of what the brain is made up of)
(lol i was so pretentious when i made this account like wow)

and like i know the title is more theater than movie related but i couldn't think of a good title so.
i saw you today, for the first time in months.
i admit, it took me a few seconds to remember
all the words to the song you played on repeat in
your car, the one you couldn’t sing with open eyes.
the music used to come so easily to me,
but when i saw you today, i could only remember
the chorus, and it stuttered its way through my head
over and over again. for the life of me, i don’t know
what comes next.

i have spent years picking up the pieces of you
that you left behind, years spent memorizing
the echo of your heartbeat and the rhythm of
your breaths. your favorite color is purple.
you like sunflowers, autumn, and the creek
that flows behind your house. you like movies
and popcorn, you like ferris wheels and candy apples.
you love your mother and miss your father. you’re
afraid of alcohol and terrified of yourself. there
was a point in my life when i thought maybe i’d
be able to grow old next to you.

i know it’s stupid, but i’m afraid of not knowing you anymore
because if i’ve learned anything in the last four years, it’s
that favorite colors change. what you want to be
one day, you will not want to be the next.
people are hard to pin down.

people are math equations with too many variables
and not enough constants. people aren’t scripts,
they’re not easy to memorize. someone keeps going back
and changing the words when you think you’ve
got all the lines down. you’ve never got all the lines down—
someone else will always be typing something new.

i miss the way your voice rolled itself over the vowels of
my poetry, miss the way the words i dedicated to
you dripped off your tongue. i miss opening my eyes
in the morning to that song already playing in my head,
my eyes pressed shut as i sing along to words i don’t understand.  
i miss knowing what to get you for your birthday. i miss the person
i was years ago when i thought all it took to know a person
was a bullet point list of all their favorite things. people aren’t
lists. they’re not photo albums. they’re atoms and molecules
and the insides of stars and something so dangerously beautiful,
indiscernibly terrible that the closest we can ever get
to understanding each other is figuring out why we sing certain
songs like we’re drowning in the middle of the ocean
and we’re just now realizing that maybe we should have learned
to believe in a god or at least learned how to keep
our heads above the water for long enough to survive.

today, i saw you again for the first time in four years
and seven months. i realized that the poem i wrote you
no longer applies. if i hadn’t titled it with your name,
i would have forgotten who i wrote it about.
people are hard to pen down.
sempiternal (adj)--of never ending duration

(so technically to make sense the poem should be titled, like, 'not sempiternal' but that kind of ruins it. so im telling you now i guess. whatever i tried to find a fancy word for impermanent)
(im so damn busy right now and so so tired. registration for next year starts soon and, like, what the fuck, right? i mean it's only february and they already expect us to plan out our next year of this shit?)

this poem is dedicated to all the people i've lost touch with/grown apart from. i really do truly hope that y'all are all happy.

and that also goes for everyone else out there. have a good day/tomorrow/valentine's day/what have you!

lol i also referenced my old people on paper poems lol did anyone catch that or
you guys give me a Daily Deviation??? I love you all so so much. I mean, seriously, seriously thank you. Every single one of you is amazing and perfect and just wow okay I'm still wow'ing.

And it's more than just a DD, you know, like, I'm super touched and flattered and all these other adjectives on the response "welcome to the real world" got. I loved reading your comments about how you perceive the real world and what you were afraid of when you were graduating college/high school.

Which is another thing. I can't even begin to describe how amazing comments like, 'I just graduated high school and I think I needed to read this' or 'Just finished college, this helped me so much'. Good. Thank god, because that's what I wanted that poem to do to you. I wanted people to read it and feel, well, maybe not helped, but at least not so alone. My oldest sister graduates college in June, and today is my other sister's high school graduation and today was the last exam of my sophomore year of high school, so we're all another step into having no idea what we're going to do later and I know it scares me and it probably scares them, too.

So I'm just really glad that people read this poem and liked it, or even if they read it and hated it, or read it and messaged me all the ways that I'm an ignorant, privileged sixteen year old. This is true. But like I said earlier, I wrote "welcome to the real world" so people could read it and feel like they're aren't the only ones facing these problems. Cause sure, from what I've seen the Real World sucks and it's awful and yeah, there's little bits of 'this is great' but it's mostly twenty-somethings wishing they were preteens again. And it would doubtlessly be better if no one thought they were the only ones going through the same adjustments.

I got off all track--I just really wanted to say that after the week of exams I've had and Ending Of The Year blues, this was amazing. Thank you so much. I'm still smiling.


MisfitableGrae's Profile Picture
Grae Mattern
Artist | Literature
United States
I hate talking about myself for any length of time. My favorite part of the summer is the fireflies. My mother doesn't understand why I like the rain so much, but let's just put that on the ever-growing list of things my mother doesn't understand about me. I don't know what to do about that. I do this weird thing where I don't reply to comments and don't tell everyone that follows me that I love them but I love them and on Bad Days, I reread the comments and look at my watchers and I smile and fall a little bit more in love with humanity in general. I'm allergic to every nut but peanuts. I am a horrible human being. But some days I can convince myself that that doesn't necessarily mean I'm not a good person.

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SilverInkblot Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for collecting Bibliophilia :)
AeronDust Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2015
I could start a collection just on all the things you've written because I've loved everyone of the things I've read so far.
Psychia98 Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Oh my goodness, you added one of my poems to your favourites? I'm utterly flattered..!
Thank you; this means such a lot to me :)
InterrogateMe Featured By Owner Feb 17, 2015   Writer
I just wanted to tell you that you inspire me in unimaginable ways, your mind is absolutely beautiful. Keep writing, sweetie. :heart:
MisfitableGrae Featured By Owner Feb 17, 2015   Writer
oh man thank you so, so unbelievably much. you're absolutely amazing.

and also, i love andrea gibson's poetry, "a letter to the playground bully" is one of my all-time favorites from her. C: used to have about five of her poems memorized just in case there ever came an opportunity to recite her work. "class" was pretty cool, too.
InterrogateMe Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2015   Writer
Oh, of course! And thank you!

Aww, that's really cute! I didn't know of her until about a year ago when a friend of mine took me to see her perform, she's been my idol ever since. c:
That1PersonYouForgot Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer

Hey, thanks for joining :iconshortandsweetpoetry:ShortAndSweetPoetry! We're glad to have you with us. Please be sure to submit any and all short poetry you write and/or come across, into the right folders of course~ Wink/Razz

If you have any questions, feel free to contact me or any of the other admins, DropDeadKrislynAmarantheansSharkitty, and AmethystVixen. We also have a donation account for the group at :iconsspdonationaccount:. Any and every donation is much appreciated! Heart

Have a nice day! Spongebob (Imagination) 

 ~That1PersonYouForgot Meow Rainbow

P.S. Sorry for the late welcome!
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2015   Writer
:iconblinkthanksfavplz: ... :)
deviantartchiz Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2015
LeftUnfinished Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday! birthday cake Hide Birthday Emote My Dork Dance  Hope your day is fantastic!
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