Friday Poetry: "Untitled"

Hey lovelies! Happy Friday! I hope you've all had a wonderful week - mine was pretty exhausting and I'm so glad for two days of freedom. I'm really looking forward to working on FH this weekend, mostly because now that the betas' comments are almost done - for real this time! - I can actually move on to some fun things rather than correcting misplaced modifiers and taking out dialogue tags. (Snore.)

This week's Friday Poetry is written in a new style I'm trying out (as you can tell, I've been experimenting a lot lately, haha ;)). Whereas last week we had more of a time lapse kind of poem, this week I decided to just cobble together a collection of thoughts and see where it took me. I kind of like how it turned out, actually - different than I was expecting, especially the ending, but not bad at all! Fun fact: originally there were 12 stanzas, but I shortened it to 11 because you make a wish at 11:11 and I'm romantic like that. :D

You know how fastidious I usually am about titles, but I just wasn't able to find the perfect one for this week's poem - sorry about that, lovelies! Regardless, if you have a suggestion for the title or if you just want to give me some feedback, do leave a comment. I always look forward to hearing your thoughts. xx

love, Topaz



he has green eyes, flecked with made-up colours and too many emotions for you to keep up with. he hides behind a crooked smile, a mask he doesn’t know he’s wearing. his smile is not real, but his eyes are.


you want to fix him, but you don’t quite know what’s broken. you think maybe it’s everything, and then you change your mind and decide that it is nothing. he catches you staring at him and instead of turning away, he stares back.


he wants to fix you, but he doesn’t quite know what’s broken. you tell him nothing but he looks at you and you think maybe it’s everything. his hands linger on the steering wheel, strong and steady and everything you are not, and you decide that you want him to fix you anyway.


when he works on his car he hums under his breath, and he doesn’t think anyone hears him, but you do. his skin is smudged with oil and his soul is smudged with scars, but you think they are both beautiful all the same. he turns and sees you and his green eyes sparkle like he knew you were there all along. maybe he did.


he gives you a nickname, and it feels like a promise and a lullaby all rolled into one. you say it to yourself when you are alone amongst too many broken spirits, and it lights up the darkness in a way that no star has ever been able to do.


you stare in the rearview mirror of his beloved car, and he stares back. the thought flits across your mind too quickly, too easily: he loves the car, and you love him.


he infuriates you. his eyes infuriate you. his not-smile infuriates you. everything about him drives the last clutches of sanity from your mind. the sun sets crooked and the car engine rumbles and you want to kill him and you want to kiss him, and you don’t know which is worse.


he pretends to love his car more than his family, and you pretend not to notice how his eyes soften when he looks at them.


you know that he is nothing more than the bones that tie him together and the blood that runs through his veins, but you can’t help but wonder how he feels like so much more than that. he says your name like a prayer and you can’t quite fathom why that makes you feel so empty and so full, all at the same time.


you pretend not to notice how his eyes soften when he looks at you.


his smile is not real, but his eyes are.