two poems

by Alice Blackwell

WANT

I cannot define more

But I know it’s not this 

Lower your expectations, you unrealistic cunt 

You’re crazy for expecting that much out of people 

But I’ll collect the brightest star & present it with my dazzling smile

This is for you 

Like a cat bringing you a mouse 

Let me in

Let me help you 

I’ll deliver everything on a silver platter 

I’ll walk on water and fight your battles 

Because I’m. All. In 

You are a piece of my delicate but fragile existence 

I’ll sacrifice my greatest asset, time, if that means I can deepen our connection

I won’t break a sweat solving your problems 

I’ll nurture you 

My caretaking capabilities inherent 

I am an excellent partner, lover, and friend 

But I find the essence of human connection exhausting & insipid 

I see through the jealousy, petty nonsense that follows connection 

And I supplied the matches to burn those useless bridges 

People underestimate my ability to read them like my favorite book

Because of this skill, I keep people at arms length 

Petrified to extend the olive branch 

I don’t think the full responsibility should fall on my shoulders 

It’s what I’m used to 

But I’m tired of being used 

I’m ascertaining the definition of quality over quantity as it relates to connection 

And using it as justification for my loneliness 

I want to be alone, but I’m scared of being lonely 

I want more but I can’t define it 

I want connection but I want mutual effort 

I want 

Now

I’m not sure 

GRIEF

Grief didn’t ask permission 

It didn’t consent or sign an ROI

But I can’t identify the stage I’m subletting 

Are anger and acceptance the antithesis of one another or old friends?

Is grief supposed to be cyclic and unapologetic?

Is my body suppose to feel this way?

I ache

I hurt 

How do I do this?

Why doesn’t anyone have the answers to these questions?

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance 

I don’t think it’s normal to experience all five stages in five fucking minutes 

But I think I’m grieving what could have been & what should have been

I unwillingly discovered my grief on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor 

He told me to relax, so I consumed a substance that removed the incessant chatter from my brain 

My thoughts became manageable 

Pain.

Failure.

I felt the failed relationships, the failed marriage, my dejected life trajectory, deaths of my grandparents & near death of myself 

I was spinning, spiraling, incapable of redirection 

One tear unleashed one thousand 

And the ugly pink tile flooded

Desolation consumed my nervous system 

Is this bargaining or depression?

Wine, weed, cigarette, & tequila from my lover’s mouth temporarily mute the despondency that haunts me 

The aforementioned coping mechanisms are failing me but work in the interim

Lied to my therapist about my real issues

I just can’t let it consume me.

BIO: Alice Blackwell resides in hell, more formally known as Southern Indiana. She has several poems published in Alien Buddha Press (Alien Buddha Zine 84 & 85 & The Alien Buddha's Got Beef), Pure Sleaze Press (Ticket to Midnight Volume IV), Horror Sleaze Trash (https://horrorsleazetrash.com/2026/01/15/alice-blackwell/), and Cajun Mutt Press (scheduled Featured Writer for July 22, 2026). She enjoys expressing herself through poetry and never shies away from a new ink pen, planner, or organizational tool.