Maggie Rogers - Fallingwater

"i never loved you, fully- in the way i could.."

beauty for ashes

praise for heaviness

joy for mourning


your words declare you love me.

the tone is:
abandoned carnival
one last clown. standing 
in the smoke-

holding a bottle of jack,
a balloon giraffe
oh and that cynical
dollar store smile and laugh

the setting is dark
the elephants are dead
the freaks are free now
the cotton candy is gone

And the Ferris wheel's closed now that lila's dead.

And you utter again
i love you.

and i know the truth
your words: are just noise summoned by empty passion
romance you thought you learned
from a porno you saw once when you were young

if this is love. get the hell away from me.

i will love myself and mean it
i will hold myself and not break my own bones
i will forgive myself forever,

look myself dead in the eyes
and say:
Self, i love you.
purely and forever.

if you will not touch me now-

i will hold my own hand.

i fell in love with you years ago
and now that i've confessed 
my affection

the empty feeling looms
and you leave me again

alone with myself and my own love.

holding my own hand forever 

for better or worse

i will show you how to be good, how to be faithful
by being good to myself-faithful and true to my spirit.

i have hidden the word of of the lord deep down in my heart

you lack the ability
to love me properly
and you forget that i am made of dust and bone

i stand before you sustained

nun hearted

dark forest

holy ghost heartbeat.

Calvary love.

watch the crimson hits the sand.

If You left the grave behind you so will I

If the stars were made to worship so will I
If the mountains bow in reverence so will I
If the oceans roar Your greatness so will I
For if everything exists to lift You high so will I
If the wind goes where You send it so will I
If the rocks cry out in silence so will I
If the sum of all our praises still falls shy
Then we’ll sing again a hundred billion times

52 Cities Deep / And His Big Weep.


of THE chase-
the chase of all chases
the surrendering way,
you throw your hands up-

away from me.

i sway into the truth

you cover your ears
rejecting the news.

enough is enough

you chased my love
19 months

and when i say stop
you take it to heart.

The New York Post slides 
under my hotel room door
front page is your face-just for today
headline reads:
*bold font*
"the big star" with talent but in the end his pride ruins it all"
headline is:
"charming cliche of a man
chases a lovely woman 
catches her
tricks her
only to run away!
 after his tour extended past may.
(tour sales down despite  radio plays)

headline says:
" majority of charismatic men are all sad at night-
no matter how many fans they have!
the price of extroversion:
is pain!
the price of the lead role is:
and no one to call
when you feel like
like, for real this time"

the rise and fall of
whatever the hell that was
just late night calls and
static, so much static.

flash forward to you leaving
for a new pair of eyes

52 cities deep:
you will find a version of me,
In her.

A fever dream fantasy
you will seek

Flash forward to 2am
The south, about to enter REM

picture those haunted hallways 
where a woman's intuition
and her subconscious meet
(repeat repeat repeat)

I don't miss him because you can't miss a person who 
never really knew you
only the fantasy of you
that they crafted
based on what?
a cartoon?

i don't dream of him, ever.

i dream of heath ledger wearing a fisherman sweater on a pale beach
and the little mermaid when she gets her new feet.

9 cities later:
back to my replacement

Crystal ball says its a girl with a common middle name
a girl who is younger than me
with less sorrowing  in her eyes 
less words in her vocabulary
never left the Midwest
hasn't heard of Budapest 
you speak and she cheers
you ignore her and she
feels she's done something wrong
you're her sun
and she needs you now
to function
she's too young to know
that the cycle starts
with the chase
ends with the escape
the silence
the amnesia 
skip to 2 years later 
December in Ohio
"don't i know you from somewhere"
and he is honestly asking you this
because he is the sun
self appointed but
the sun

move on to the far east
its late spring
she's a college girl
less fight in her swing
less pain. fewer memories
fewer lives
fewer mistakes
maybe a girl who has a sister that's not dead
ans haunting her family
maybe her story is less heartbreak
less weeping
more singing
Wednesday night testimony girl
in a jean skirt
pretty face
big flirt

the winter you flew to Europe 
the winter you stopped calling your father
middle of nowhere on a train headed to Paris
you see her
and she is close to resembling me
just a little bit.

you open your mouth
to begin the game
the cycle is spinning
and she laughs in your face
she walks
and the daily mail
has given you a nickname now
one that you hate
headline says:
"you're looking weak"
they interview a nutritionist who speculates on your shrinking frame
"hollow eyes
lack of smile
pale complexion"   

headline reads:
"ALIVE but mostly dead"

And the women sitting outside of a cafe the morning of the headlines
you refuse to read from today
feel sorry for you.
feel happy they have boyfriends who love them 
in the purest way.
love without a timeline, without the seduction of fame

that's the thing about good women
we were born wearing our crowns
wisdom is our best friend
discernment is engraved in the bones of our bodies
our skin is made of prophetic cells
our hearts are homes for the holy spirit
and the love for babies and pale oceans

you write me to tell me
"i miss you. I'm lonely"
i read this and feel nothing.

i reply with the sunglass emoji.

you cursing the day we began
is how that conversation came to an end.

sometimes, i miss the wolves that used to chase me
but for the most part, I don't.

i know they will be back
for more heartbreak
a sad woman is worth more than a million happy ones
the currency of pain: to feel anything in a country so numb
is a delicacy
just a gram of her sadness
will cost you a piece of your soul but my god
it's worth it a thousand time over
like crack cocaine
they beg me for romance
knowing the high won’t stay
the comedown is coming
the sun is rising with the throbbing craving
for more
addicted to this second hand ache
still born stories of hope
laced in hate
a future we can’t hold
we can barley create
in the corners of the town that neither of us claim
curating heartbreak
calling it fate.

the sickness

All I wanted from you,

Was a man staring back at me 
like I was something he couldn't lose

So I rolled the dice
walked from The Chelsea Hotel to 159th

the years go by
i run,
you do not follow.
and just as the tears have dried
you come back
with a heavy sentiment
like the past was just a dream,like its not 2016
you confess that you still miss me,
with a familiar tenderness

you are dancing around our memories
like its holy ground
you begin to glorify my
and i remember this feeling
the pressure to be all that you want me to be
the idea
you challange me to shrink once more

i digress 

i think how in the world
is it you?

how did you come back to me?
is it fate or the way broken hearts form this addiction to pain

am i to be the villain in your narrative?
could you only be with me when i was sick
and young and crying all the time

now that i am strong
you seem to be unsure

the madness of static

The addicts that find me-

In the peace of the morning,
bathing in a soft white light.

Between the purity and the devotion to what is holy. 
I am nun like in December-and happy here alone. 

The Holy Spirit flows from my veins 
and he calls it magic. 

The high of the supernatural fuels his pursuit of me. 
He speaks of my spirit and he's manic
with tunnel vision he wants it
the addict is angry
Can't steal it
can't reach it
can't buy it off the street
Thinks I'm keeping secrets.
i speak of Jesus and he turns violent. 

 And I'm covered in black fabric 
in a forest like always/
Solitude in Tennessee

He calls me his future.
I watch his mouth move and I keep thinking...
"how insane!"

Addicted to the second hand smoke of
the Holy Ghost 

He is relentless,
and shifty 

still born stories of hope.

He speaks to me with 
Strange fantasies 
laced in hate
Paints me a picture of the future 
a future we can’t hold.

Calls me weeping says it's just withdrawals  
says he barley creates anymore 
says the lack of me is cruelty 
He needs the clouds
to think 
to feel alive 
to come close to peace
to sleep

The addict seeks me like an orphaned wolf-

He howls my name each night 
in the corners of this town
that neither of us claim

The wolf is busy:
curating heartbreak
calling it fate.



I feel it in my bones you're about to move...

In Lou of it all...I felt love my whole life-
Even when I longed for it.


eventually you get sick of the graveyards you visit
so you build new ones

this cycle goes on and on

gradually you leave the rituals
that kept you alive
alive just to mourn the dead
is no way to live.

with respect for the good ones gone:
let them fly. they have wings. they are the light in all things.

and for the rest of them:

let the dead bury the dead

listen to the soil

doing the job you thought was your own.


There is no shame in the early morning hours.
Moonlight on your pain:
The cleansing wax and wane.

How you would start a fire in the desert:
Sun on object-
light on body
fire on wound
burning the ache
into beautiful flames
(the reverse)
I am not ashamed of the moon on my back
I will not conceal my pain for you.

Your prayers are the sand scattered in the wind.

Does not kill you, i’m sorry.
Right before the glory, you will want to die.
Talking to yourself like you would a child:
Surely this was THE Desert, THE Dark Night.

And the sun says, Yes..
And the desert answers:
Your prayers are now sand scattered in wind/
The healing is here,it is all around you.

And beyond your decade long view-that exalted

The Glory rises/
The Kingdom comes.

The promise land you bled for: arrives with angels singing

Your prayers are the sand scattered in wind

The night always ends,
I'm sorry.

The glory wins
The glory wins
The glory wins

Your prayers are the sand scattered in wind.

Sadness is my boyfriend

"expect sadness
you expect rain.
cleanse you."



"Life and death, energy and peace. If I stop today, it was still worth it. Even the terrible mistakes that I made and would have unmade if I could. The pains that have burned me and scarred my soul, it was worth it, for having been allowed to walk where I've walked, which was to hell on earth, heaven on earth, back again, into, under, far in between, through it, in it, and above."  - Gia


Real love, 
it finds you somewhere-

with your back to it.

The kind of thing to look at when you sit down to grieve.

I am disconnected from parts of me that are deep wells of sadness.

To connect to pain is a memory away. I do not reach for you because you destroy me for days.

Mending: how do we keep safe our memories? Especially the ones we must leave behind in order to survive.

Even if we love memory.

Even if we use it as a way to devotion.
Even when it’s not.

Even when we dragged it around like a block of light just to see if it lasted.

Even when it breaks. Even when we know it will break. Let’s be shocked,


sometimes in suffering we find ourselves. 

I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground

You traded heaven to have me again.

water on your hands and on your face.

writing from an honest place seems
until its not.

I need you/I don't need you


sometimes a man gets so sad he can hardly feel it 

there were the years you waited for love-
and now you hardly think of it anymore.

sometimes you get so alone that it just makes sense.

in the past:
i needed you to feel
my loneliness 
for me
with me
just for right now
because the weight is too heavy
and its crushing me second by second

some men take it
and hand it back
some men feel it deeply
and hate me for it.

sick recognizes sick
hurt recognizes hurt

love me tender
love me, quick.


i think its a lot like being a new vampire-
you are stuck at the place that initially wounded you. 

baby's first weep.

the first year i fell in love was real missing puzzle piece vibes.
the same kinda feeling you get when you hear your favorite song for the very first time:
the chorus is what you've been singing a lifetime without music
its just an understanding
it resonates deep within you
your whole body absorbing  

The first time I fell in love and the first time my heart was ripped out of my chest without any warning both have their own melody.
Falling in love
The Start & The Finish 
never produces your best work.
Something about contentment
your audience loses interest.

Heartbreak produces the best work of your life
Because when he called the whole thing off and you wept for 8 days straight because he doesn't love you at all. 
You throw up because rejection can feel like a poison
Really when I think about it no one was created to store rejection in their bodies…it has no place in the brain or veins or DNA. 
You pause life because you're in too much pain to move.
You love someone who does not love you back and one night you weep harder than you did the day you came into this world.

You weep for the hearts you've led on…then lost. 

you can write about this
foreign objects and blood forever.

Flashback to the Hudson river 
when you spoke without a hint of life in your voice. 
You weren't a person in this moment. 
You were a forest fire
burning history books and homes with memories and pictures and promises inside.

You were a gas leak burning down that apartment on the upper east,29th and 9th,the l.e.s
Sleepwalking through times square 
fazed and dazed forever
slurry speech 
5 am Tribeca.

And all the gardens of hope that once bloomed around
and within you-
are ashes and dust.

Music playing in the taxi
you kick the cabby's seat
(both feet)
 because this song triggers you into mania
the melody you wrote in your deepest sea of sadness
so if you wanted to be happy
you couldn't
and if you could change everything you ever did on this island...

you wouldn't.

 In a desert land he found him, in a barren and howling waste. 
He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye. Deuteronomy 32:10