2010

after a while, you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand & chaining a soul.
& you learn that love doesn't mean security.
& you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts.
& presents aren't promises.

& you begin to accept your defeats with your head up & your eyes open
with the grace of maturity, not the grief of a child.
& you learn to build all your roads on
today, because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
& futures have a way of falling down mid-flight.

after a while, you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
so you plant your own garden & decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone else to bring you flowers.

& you learn that you really can endure...
     that you really are strong.
& that you really do have worth.

& you learn, & you learn, & you learn...
with every goodbye you learn.

plug.

melancholy words & lists. sentences too short to be written in books. hiding behind screens, lurking in the corner darkness in offices & cubicles & lying stomach down on top of dorm room floors, heat-dish warmed rugs--the people who will rate with a thumbs up or absolute silence. and in the absence of approval, we will assume a cable has been kicked loose.

trooper.

it was a good question to have, i thought.
i wanted to know what to do to get her back.
what i had to accomplish, what i had to show for myself,
to be able to hold her in my arms, and call her mine again.

you looked me in the eyes.
and, taking mental inventory of all i had to offer:
the days we spent together,
the time i waited for you,
the love i gave you freely,
and the forgiveness.
and the regret i never claimed.
the corruption i set upon myself.
you looked me in the eyes,
and you turned me away.

you had decided i was not worth the effort anymore.
what i had was not enough.
things had become too complicated.



maybe all i have to accomplish,
is getting over you.

and i will.

your ability to heal comes
from knowing that 
you will 
heal.

my zooey.

i see myself as beer kisses. my hands smell like strawberry, my chest smells like light blue cedar. my lips always taste like smoke and my tongue feels like vanilla and chocolate and cherries. once i told her i had a bell tied into my hair, and she said "that's beautiful." and i have this saviour syndrome.

how can i be stagnant? how can i be still to you? i feel like i'm always moving or changing or something. floating around. but i never really know. the times i try to define myself i grasp so tightly to an idea that it simply turns to steam and floats up through the cracks between my fingers. but i know that you can't see me either. we lost our feeling of friendship with lego blocks and barbie dolls.

that bell in my hair...
     they cut it out of me.

you drift away like peppered smoke.
but i guess that's okay, now.

two hours.

I took your pictures down today, after I saw you put your new ones on your wall. I guess I’m something strange, and maybe I’m too much for you. My hair grew long. She cut hers short… I know I shouldn’t worry. But I do.

You say these things to calm my nerves... "I'll always be by your side."
          Then tell me: why am I sitting on the bed alone?
                    "I'll never leave you."
                              And that was just a blatant lie.

I already feel forgotten.

And I’m sorry for that.


But, I will be okay. And I do love you.
Behave yourself while you're away.






(but maybe i'll be the one that leaves, this time)

i want to be considered an adult eager to think & capable of thought. i want to be able to express my thoughts without having anything to fear & i want, also, to be listened to.