Artists everywhere whip out their pens every day in October to ink a drawing, usually thematically chosen by a prompt. This annual challenge is called “Inktober”, and you can find a plethora of beautiful art on almost every social media site by putting a hashtag in front of the word. I’m not particularly artistically inclined, but this year I wanted to participate, so I thought to do the next best thing—write a sonnet every day (with an ink pen, of course).
Now that we’re well past October and I’m well past the initial embarrassment of writing about my love for various people I know, I thought it was time to share my poems. Here’s a Shakespearean sonnet for the subjects that unexpectedly cropped up throughout October. These are the people I didn’t expect to be "romantically" inspired by, but apparently, I am.
For a roommate
Birds of a feather, they flock together
And that’s what they say about you and I.
Even when ill, or under the weather
Out here, I suppose, you’re my ride or die.
We are budgies, in shades of green and gold,
Gray pigeons gathered on the windowsill.
To venture alone, I am not that bold,
To take flight without you, scarier still.
But eventually we must leave the nest,
Discover a current, ride on our own.
In these blust’ry winds, I wish you the best
Icarus’s fate unknown and unflown.
But so long as my wings are still in flight,
If you call, I’ll come, no matter the plight.
For a one night stand
I exist: pretend it didn’t happen.
I erase the alcohol on your breath,
Stumble in the elevator, trapped in.
Your words, your words, my lucidity’s death.
Very briefly I’d thought of you like this,
But “we” was an impossible concept,
Then you proved me wrong, caught me in a kiss,
Away I was borne, into you, windswept.
Your lack of feelings is why I maintained
A distance between us, coupled with “no”s,
I woke up in your arms, feeling enchained
Knowing in the sunlight, we were just bros.
I don’t think I love you, but stay away—
You’d eas’ly win me, if tried in the day.
For a brother
Seeing your mixtapes, I feel twinge of pride—
It’s obvious that you take after me.
Melodies and lyrics, they can confide,
Those feelings that nobody else should see.
I miss those Wednesday afternoons driving,
Ferrying you to the next appointment.
Unsatisfied parents ignore striving,
Ignore them, you’re not a disappointment.
Hate to admit, but we share more than genes,
More than eyes, more than home, more than last name.
We’re prone to emotions, smothered by dreams.
You and I, brother mine, are near the same.
By distance I’m far, but heart, I am close,
Our song comes on, and I miss you the most.
For an ex boyfriend
I think what I miss most is the feeling:
The through-the-clouds plunge of falling in love.
Lie in the dark and stare at the ceiling,
Counting this blessing and stars up above.
I reduced you to merely idea,
And find shards of you in other boys’ beds:
Glow-in-the-dark stars bought from Ikea,
Regret in his sheets, marked by ev’ry thread.
Finding a foreign body to love me
Is easy in a galaxy this vast.
But I don't want a love that comes easy,
And I don't want you, though you I loved last.
I'm in love with the idea of love,
That's why it's no longer you I dream of.
For writing
Uninspired—I’ve lost a lust for words,
Or maybe, I have lost a lust for love.
Nothing but empty metaphors: the birds
In the trees, and the skies—stars—up above.
Is it possible that words have failed me?
Or I’ve failed them, a writer unwilling.
Maybe having my heart broken is key,
To pen poems romantically filling.
But we scoff at those poems—they are shallow,
Easy to write, for they don’t dig too deep.
Relatable moments that are callow,
Every word sown yields a feeling to reap.
Sit down, stand up, take a moment, take stock,
Breathe in and breathe out—this is writer’s block.
Poem titles are assigned for clarity but are not part of the final work. Poetry collection is titled A Beginner's Guide to Romance and will be available in its entirety online at the start of next year.
