Lovers"Do you have a boyfriend?"Her eyes crawled from corner to corner as she mouthed the question. Do I have a boyfriend? After what felt like an unnecessary contemplation she said "...I know a lover, but I don't have him.""What does that mean?""I don't know if he's mine. He doesn't go by Mine ... that is to say, many could call out Lover! and he would answer. I could call out Mine! and receive no reply.""So this guy, whose not your boyfriend, doesn't it bother you that he doesn't feel the same way about you as you feel about him?"Her head lobbed to one side, as if it were weighted, her eyes found another corner, higher this time, right above my head. She may have been smiling, I didn't think so at the time but now as I reflect upon it, I believe she was. "I've known many lovers" She said "Many of them are strangers now. Strange thing, to know someone intimately, the crevasses of their body, their dark thoughts, and then in a blink, they are
Concernedly UnfleetingShe woke up as the sun did. Slowly creeping out of bed, eyes still half shut, her figure a small silhouette, fumbling about the bedroom. And then suddenly, I swear, I merely blinked, and the whole room was glowing with her presence. Her warm smile reflected the warm cup she placed in my hands and we just sat smiling to one another, to our selves, witnessing the blues of the day come into focus.You see, the sun was on the verge of rising. Too cold outside for the stunning rays she was known for. Today would not be a day for warmth, as our little morning cocoon would have you believe. No, today was a day for clarity, at it's best.Everything sparkled. The snow covered cars, the ice covered trees, her dark brown eyes. It felt magical, yet at the same time, untouchable. Frighteningly magical. The world outside my window looked Disney inspired, friendly, unreal, and frozen. Literally and figuratively, a beautiful winter still. How in the world is this moment, this time and place, st
This is the Door I Left Open For YouYou knocked and knocked. When I called outfor you to come in, the knocking stopped.I peered out the window and you were gone.I hesitantly moved on.I got up and closed the door, realizing it wasa ding dong ditch. From time to timeyou still knock, but the door stayslocked.
BalloonBalloons were created to floaton a leash. To be releasedis relieving solely to thefreed.
Sleep ChildSleep child. The day is done.A sweeter song is being sungthan the morning's rooster call.Sleep child, this day is done.Rest easy. Time will stopbefore a new day has begun.Sleep child. Sleep quick,before dark steals your thoughts.The night creeps on bywhile you're wide eyed.
Learn to SwimThey lined up and dove in. Every one of them sunk like rocks.Their eyes were red when they came up. They cried, I think, it was a pool of tears.Choking. Breathing. Laughing.She laughed a knowing laugh."If you stay in the shallow end you'll never learn to swim."I don't live by the ocean and I don't enjoy the sea,so what does your wisdom have to do with me?I waited by the door but you already left, so I wadedin the water and took a deep breath. I unstrappedthe vest that protects my chest. I shut my eyes and pluggedmy nose and pretended I was a balloon. Gravity wasn't pretendingand reality pulled me under. Flailing to floatand failing, my heart deflated. I gulped downwater not fit for drinking. Soon the sinking stopped.My toes reached cool tileand I thought thatthis must behow it feelsto walk on the moon.Moments felt like minutes,pushing toward the surface,bouncing back to Earth.
DriverI spend my evenings predicting the future.I will lay awake, with my eyes closed in the dark,considering hypothetical scenarios of what it mightbe like if that happens. Predicting how it will beeven though it is never is what you'd think, unlessthat is what you make it. You create it. I are not a passive passenger riding in the flowany relationship. I am the driver. I figure outwhat I want, and make it happen with that person.I choose to laugh.
O.R.B. He opened the front door and it didn't creak the way he'd expected it to. The house didn't know his father was dead. It was still fresh smelling, alive with plants and natural light. The curtains in the living room blew around, excited by his arrival. Ted had to push against the wind to shut the door. The house was quiet, anticipating his next move. He had to remind himself to stay on task. Do not pout around, don't touch everything. Find the papers and do what they say. In and out. It had been years since Ted set foot inside his parent's house. He forgot how Home and Garden's everything looked. Rather than being in his childhood home, Ted imagined he'd stumbled onto a made for TV movie set. Any minute a man would yell CUT and the walls would come down. Ted waited, and nothing happened. Every room was picture perfect out of a magazine. All shades of green and brown. The dishes and table sett
Lovers SpinningI faced him with nervous anticipation as our arms intertwined. His large hands easily clasped around my wrists. I too, held on to him. We began to spin, slowly at first. Everyone around us flashed looks of agitation, but I knew it was envy. He smiled and took pride in the fact that I was playing along. His feet sped up so I tried to keep up. We both laughed as our world disappeared into a kaleidoscope of color. Our shoes dug holes into the ground. I didn't want to slip, because I knew he wouldn't let me go and we'd both go tumbling down.We'll either decelerate or fall into the grass together. That is how it will end. It will be soft and will not hurt. Afterwords, we will wipe joy tears from our eyes. So I hoped.As our speed increased, so did doubt. I was sure we were spiraling out of control. My mind flashed forward, anticipating the release. Any moment now his hands will escape mine. I will fly away from him. My vision will be hazy without his face to focus on. I will be lightheaded
five things they don't teach you in highschool1.it's okay to fall in love.i mean, they tell you you're never goingto marry your high school sweetheart and i'm not goingto tell you it's a liebecause it's not. you guys will probablybreak up and is gonna hurt like hellbut you'll be okay. remember, you are not the only onewho has felt loneliness like a knife,the only one to know the pain of lungs collapsingbecause they were your air,and you will never be the only one who whispered"i love you" two lives too soon.you will not be the last one to have tuckedhair behind their ear and leaned in for a kissor the last one to wake up reaching for a hand that's no longer there.but it's okay.2.your favorite book will not always be your favorite.like you, it will change over timeto something unrecognizablethat gives you only a vague nostalgia in the tips of your fingers.flipping through the pages will neverfeel the same again.you will learn to love something new;your next favorite will teach you something about you
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
Insanity needs companyand now I’m stuck here,pondering,how the walls becamea veiny sight-(could the cause be me calling outyour namein the middle of the night?)and alone I stand here,wondering,how my feet gotnailed upon this floor-(do you hold my ankleslike an anchordoes the shore?)and I know it’s been thirteen yearssince you were here at all,according to the hash marksdrawn in chalkupon the wall,but I can’tlet goof our memories,that hauntme everydayso for now,I’ll let the doc declare: Insanity needs company.
quit trying to fit people into boxesmy birthday is at the end of marchwhich means i'm an ariesthey say that the ram is the leader of the pactthe first signenthusiastic and energetic aggressive, take-chargepeople born under aries areknown to take actionthey're not known to spectate idlywhich is odd becausei've always felt like ispent my whole life painting people up in my headwatching the world rather thanbeing a part of iti'm a dreamer, an idealistpersonality type infpan introvert whosefeelings make up their realityinfps are known to build up worlds inside themselvesin order to escape their own mindwhich is odder stillbecause i'm an honest realist(with pessimistic tendencies)and i revel in my situations through writingrather than running away from them in my headat my core i'm full of passion and ragelayers of shyness revealingan angry person who can bequite outspoken around those she's comfortablei'm complicated, basically.i am a complex arrangement ofnature's codes and che
how to maybe fall in love1.you don't. at least,not at first, not for you; you sitin the back of the room and kindof admire the waytheir laugh shakestheir shoulders back and forth,rhythmic mimicry found unrhyming, unrehearsed. it's refreshing, you think.and slowly maybe you realize that hey, theyaren't too bad looking and hey, youkind of like the way their eyesdart away if you catch them looking at you,and hey.you feel your heartbeat for the firsttime in years.2.you think you might like them.kind of. maybe. you really don't know, but youlike to think you do(because if you wish hard enoughsome fairy godmother you knowdoesn't exist might help this existential crisis goingon that consists of holy hell how do i DO this-).but you like to think you know what you're doing.and so you go on adate, then two, then three, and you findyou really like that they hold yoursmile in their eyes and hey, maybeholding hands isn't like being trapped like you thought.you learn everything ane
Brown Eyes Compliments, and AnalogiesBecause I'm sick of people saying there aren't any.Your brown eyes are like the deep intoxication of campaign wine, bubbling with hazing richness and expensive taste.Your brown eyes are like the color of mahogany wood- comforting and home-steady toughness that lets me know you will be the beams of supporting me.Your eyes remind me of Dove chocolate, smooth, creamy, delectable, and melting.The color of brown eyes remind me of mountain terrain and nature, something subtle, but beautiful in every form and season.Brown eyes make me think of Devil's cake, taunting and tempting, curtained by black lashes, the symbol of rich seduction.When brown eyes delve in love, they become the color of a leather book, promising a story of loyalty, long-life, and devotion.Your brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets, dark to cover the pain of ignorance, opaque to cover to want of another.Brown eyes are like the stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace you when you fall, into a nurturing a
InkI like to draw hearts on my wrist in ink.Let it wash away and draw them again.Not always in the same placesor the same amount.Sometimes my heart's in different places,but I always have one.