“There were so many things I wanted to tell you. Or rather, I wished to have things that I wanted to tell you. What a thing, to be with you and have no words for it. What a thing, to be outcast like that. And then everything unfastened. It was like something was always dissolving inside you— Already it's hard to remember how you used to comb your hair or how you tilted your broad face in green shade. Now what seas, what meanings can I place in you?” PoetryRelationshipSadOutcastMary SzybistIncarnadineNo WordsUnclassifiable Book:Incarnadine: Poems Source: Incarnadine: Poems
“Apology I didn't mean to say so much to you. I should have thought to let the evening end by looking at the stars subdued into their antique blue and alabaster hues. Such looking would have fit with my intent. I didn't mean to speak that way to you. If I could take it back, I'd take it, undo it, and replace it with the things I meant to give—not what I let slip (it's true) like any pristine star of ornamental hue. I do not always do what I intend. I didn't mean to say so much to you. It slipped before I saw, before I knew. Or do we always do what we intend? Perhaps it's true and all along I knew what I was saying—but how I wanted you. I should have thought to let the evening end. The placid stars seemed filled and then subdued by what I did and did not want to do.” PoetryStarsPoemSadGrantedApologyMary Szybist Book:Granted Source: Granted
“I lost him so uncontrollably, you understand” PoetryLostLossSadGrantedMary Szybist Book:Granted Source: Granted
