A part of me knows
no matter where this takes me
no matter where life leads you
I will find you again.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
225 - Over the tides
We'll be okay.
I still don't know what that means.
So many people have said it over the past year.
I didn't understand what it meant.
Regardless, however,
it seemed to be an indisputable truth everyone seemed to non-verbally agree with.
I didn't really get it.
I still don't.
but
I agree,
now.
You and me?
We're going to be okay.
I still don't know what that means.
So many people have said it over the past year.
I didn't understand what it meant.
Regardless, however,
it seemed to be an indisputable truth everyone seemed to non-verbally agree with.
I didn't really get it.
I still don't.
but
I agree,
now.
You and me?
We're going to be okay.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
224 - Unlocking the Puzzle
Good God.
What -
who
else
did I love
when I loved writing
and
how interlinked are they
What -
who
else
did I love
when I loved writing
and
how interlinked are they
Thursday, November 15, 2012
223 - Face Forward
Some days I really do think this will be it.
This is me.
I will be this, three years from now.
Four.
Five.
I will write.
I will teach.
This will be it
for me.
It might not be enough.
I might not love it enough.
This is me.
I will be this, three years from now.
Four.
Five.
I will write.
I will teach.
This will be it
for me.
It might not be enough.
I might not love it enough.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
222 - Online Updates
Do you remember?
I remember every moment.
Every word I wrote to you, spoke to you, read to you.
I remember every flower I stole for you
I remember every excuse I grabbed to call you
I remember I remember I remember your laughter
and
your hands.
vivo para eso sonrisa
I remember the first phrase I wrote to you in spanish
in french.
Do you?
Do you remember the way we would
look above and around crowded rooms and hallways
sneaking glances
rare moments when we would realize the other was already looking at us
I
I remember that car ride
I should have kept you longer
I should have asked you to stay.
come back?
I still remember.
Please come back, we have all night.
I remember every moment.
Every word I wrote to you, spoke to you, read to you.
I remember every flower I stole for you
I remember every excuse I grabbed to call you
I remember I remember I remember your laughter
and
your hands.
vivo para eso sonrisa
I remember the first phrase I wrote to you in spanish
in french.
Do you?
Do you remember the way we would
look above and around crowded rooms and hallways
sneaking glances
rare moments when we would realize the other was already looking at us
I
I remember that car ride
I should have kept you longer
I should have asked you to stay.
come back?
I still remember.
Please come back, we have all night.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
221 - and Feeling it, too
I had a dream about you last night.
We met again at a high school reunion.
I was single, and destitute, and torn apart, and depressed, and telling people love didn't exist. Love wasn't kind, or patient. It was judgemental, and cruel, and unfair.
You stepped in with your new boyfriend, a real mess of a guy, really, but he looked your type and maybe you really had managed to convince yourself you were happy, who knows.
But you didn't look it.
You didn't look happy.
And by the end of the night, we'd finally managed to drift back together, talking and laughing, laughing and talking. And you touched my arm, and smiled the sweetest smile.
You told me to stay magical.
and with the kindest
with the absolute kindest of intentions, love, I swear,
I told you I hoped you were happy
and you deserved it
you deserve happiness
and
and
you leaned over
put your hand on my shoulder
and kissed me
right on my cheek.
and it finally felt like you were understanding me
hearing me
Please be happy
You deserve more.
You deserve happiness.
We met again at a high school reunion.
I was single, and destitute, and torn apart, and depressed, and telling people love didn't exist. Love wasn't kind, or patient. It was judgemental, and cruel, and unfair.
You stepped in with your new boyfriend, a real mess of a guy, really, but he looked your type and maybe you really had managed to convince yourself you were happy, who knows.
But you didn't look it.
You didn't look happy.
And by the end of the night, we'd finally managed to drift back together, talking and laughing, laughing and talking. And you touched my arm, and smiled the sweetest smile.
You told me to stay magical.
and with the kindest
with the absolute kindest of intentions, love, I swear,
I told you I hoped you were happy
and you deserved it
you deserve happiness
and
and
you leaned over
put your hand on my shoulder
and kissed me
right on my cheek.
and it finally felt like you were understanding me
hearing me
Please be happy
You deserve more.
You deserve happiness.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
220 - Looking Across
I remember around this time last year
being in a large building at the top of the hill
5pm
6pm
7
Sitting across the sea of singers from you
watching a movie version of an operetta
spying your fingers tapping on your phone.
I remember pulling out my own and telling you to
A cheeky message (I impressed even myself)
complete with a smooth look-away, when you turned around to smirk at me.
You replied with a smile you didn't think I see;
being in a large building at the top of the hill
5pm
6pm
7
Sitting across the sea of singers from you
watching a movie version of an operetta
spying your fingers tapping on your phone.
I remember pulling out my own and telling you to
Stop texting. Pay attention.
A cheeky message (I impressed even myself)
complete with a smooth look-away, when you turned around to smirk at me.
You replied with a smile you didn't think I see;
Stop looking at me ;)
Cheekier
Like I've finally met my match.
and I remember taking a leap into bluntness
keep trying, the voice in my head said
let's see how red she blushes
and I sent with all the rainbow bubbles in my tummy
Stop being so pretty.
and watched in fascination
butterflies flying over butterflies
as your cell phone lit and buzzed and you clicked
and breathed and I felt it
across the room
something big
hitting us both simultaneously
and you replied
oh
and I knew exactly what you meant.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
219 - Looking Over
Listen.
She’s lovely
and silly and beautiful and everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I didn’t know I needed and we’re scary perfect together and I’m thinking too far in advance because I’m so in love with her yadda yadda yadda I know I know. I know she’s wonderful and I’m not going to leave her; I don’t want to.
But I want to know
why we didn’t work out.
Why?
Why, because I have gone through the years, in my head, and you must have known, because I knew, and we both knew, and there were times when there were people, people for me and people for you, and bad times, but there were good times. There were good times and we still didn’t happen. And I want to know why we didn’t make a move. Why didn’t this work out? Would we not have worked out? Did you know that? Maybe I did, too. But is that it? We just didn’t even try? Is that what happened? I think we could've been great. I think we could've been amazing. I would have taken care of you. I would have listened and loved and given, to you. I know this because I have loved and cared and respected you since the moment we met. And I know this is reciprocal.
Why, because I have gone through the years, in my head, and you must have known, because I knew, and we both knew, and there were times when there were people, people for me and people for you, and bad times, but there were good times. There were good times and we still didn’t happen. And I want to know why we didn’t make a move. Why didn’t this work out? Would we not have worked out? Did you know that? Maybe I did, too. But is that it? We just didn’t even try? Is that what happened? I think we could've been great. I think we could've been amazing. I would have taken care of you. I would have listened and loved and given, to you. I know this because I have loved and cared and respected you since the moment we met. And I know this is reciprocal.
So what happened? I’m sorry. I want to know. I want to know because...
don’t you?
were we just a pipe dream?
Sunday, September 9, 2012
218 - Growing 'Home'
I remember
December 1st
Unceremoniously celebrating 31 days of uncatastrophes.
Sitting outside an interior space station
our winter coats shed and
two dollar warm grilled cheese in brown napkins.
our kisses still tentative.
How far we've come
how many things have been said since then
how many caresses and looks
how many words, typed, written, said, whispered, yelled.
The sheer amount of things we've shared since
the things we knew we had to talk about
the days, nights, we had to face
days - weeks - of silence.
How far we've come.
and yet still
two giggling children clenching to toasted bread and
stealing glances
stealing kisses.
December 1st
Unceremoniously celebrating 31 days of uncatastrophes.
Sitting outside an interior space station
our winter coats shed and
two dollar warm grilled cheese in brown napkins.
our kisses still tentative.
How far we've come
how many things have been said since then
how many caresses and looks
how many words, typed, written, said, whispered, yelled.
The sheer amount of things we've shared since
the things we knew we had to talk about
the days, nights, we had to face
days - weeks - of silence.
How far we've come.
and yet still
two giggling children clenching to toasted bread and
stealing glances
stealing kisses.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
217 - Distracted
I thought about you today.
I haven't thought about you since I got here.
hi.
i miss you.
I haven't thought about you since I got here.
hi.
i miss you.
Monday, August 27, 2012
216 - Paper Magic
These two 100 hundred dollar bills will bring me to you.
That's all I need.
two bills.
two pieces of paper that,
when folded only once,
span no bigger than my hand.
That's all I need.
two bills.
two pieces of paper that,
when folded only once,
span no bigger than my hand.
this is the distance between us.
the distance of my heartbeat to yours.
three inches.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
215 - Dotting the i's
Gorgeous.
that is what you are.
how you make me feel.
how life is, now.
I can't wait to watch you grow
let you see me change
share with you
make room for you
make time
hold you just as close as I always do.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
214 - Circles
You're cruel.
You're so cruel and cowardly
and it feels like I'm so lucky to have missed your bullet
and yet you hit me right where you intended.
I think you just might be the only person in the world
who I know personally
who I actually absolutely despise.
I hate you.
I can't not.
Every bit of my body convulses with anger you when I hear your name
when I see it
when I say it.
You disgust me and I can't stop it
and it's so tiring
and I don't know how to fix it anymore.
I'm glad I'm leaving.
You're a headache I never should've had.
You're so cruel and cowardly
and it feels like I'm so lucky to have missed your bullet
and yet you hit me right where you intended.
I think you just might be the only person in the world
who I know personally
who I actually absolutely despise.
I hate you.
I can't not.
Every bit of my body convulses with anger you when I hear your name
when I see it
when I say it.
You disgust me and I can't stop it
and it's so tiring
and I don't know how to fix it anymore.
I'm glad I'm leaving.
You're a headache I never should've had.
213 - Worked Up
If you had five minutes to ask them all
what they either knew or thought about me,
this is probably what they would say:
1. "She can be cruel. She can tell a mean joke or make you feel inferior for no reason. She can be confusing and sweet, and supportive. She can be there when no one else is, for you, and help you in ways you didn't know you needed. But she can be cruel, too."
2. "She can be intense. She can overwhelm you into silence with honesty when you least expect it. She will write you. She will write you all the time, she will write you letters and emails and poems and notes, and she will be very un-ceremonial when she gives them to you. She can hide things from you. She can bottle up. She is sweet and sad. Sometimes very sad, sometimes very sweet."
3. "She is honest. She is romantic. She is loyal and giving and self-sacrificing. She is a martyr and she can't help it. She can bottle things up but she'll think it's for your own good. She wants a lot from herself, and a lot from you. She's waited a long time for you."
4. "She can be distant. She can be grand and public and pandering to the public. She can disappear, with the best intentions. She can want you to want her just to feel wanted. She can flirt with others just to prove to herself that she still can. She can be loving, and sweet, and considerate. She can make you believe in love."
5. "She can be dreamy. She can rope you into a world of ease and simplicity. She can be dutiful and doting and give you things you don't realize you need. She can be patient beyond belief and respectful past words. She can turn on her words at the drop of a dime. She can be transparent in her coldness."
what they either knew or thought about me,
this is probably what they would say:
1. "She can be cruel. She can tell a mean joke or make you feel inferior for no reason. She can be confusing and sweet, and supportive. She can be there when no one else is, for you, and help you in ways you didn't know you needed. But she can be cruel, too."
2. "She can be intense. She can overwhelm you into silence with honesty when you least expect it. She will write you. She will write you all the time, she will write you letters and emails and poems and notes, and she will be very un-ceremonial when she gives them to you. She can hide things from you. She can bottle up. She is sweet and sad. Sometimes very sad, sometimes very sweet."
3. "She is honest. She is romantic. She is loyal and giving and self-sacrificing. She is a martyr and she can't help it. She can bottle things up but she'll think it's for your own good. She wants a lot from herself, and a lot from you. She's waited a long time for you."
4. "She can be distant. She can be grand and public and pandering to the public. She can disappear, with the best intentions. She can want you to want her just to feel wanted. She can flirt with others just to prove to herself that she still can. She can be loving, and sweet, and considerate. She can make you believe in love."
5. "She can be dreamy. She can rope you into a world of ease and simplicity. She can be dutiful and doting and give you things you don't realize you need. She can be patient beyond belief and respectful past words. She can turn on her words at the drop of a dime. She can be transparent in her coldness."
Thursday, August 9, 2012
212 - Keeping Close
Dyou remember
- four months before we really did discuss it -
I asked you what we were doing this summer
next year.
I asked you what was going to happen
where this was going.
and you responded with the kindest smile
told me to stop living so far into the future
told me that plan isn't something we have to think about yet
told me - i mean honestly - it hasn't even been a month.
I'm not sorry.
When I have somebody like you,
the only things I should think about
are how to care for you
how to keep you.
- four months before we really did discuss it -
I asked you what we were doing this summer
next year.
I asked you what was going to happen
where this was going.
and you responded with the kindest smile
told me to stop living so far into the future
told me that plan isn't something we have to think about yet
told me - i mean honestly - it hasn't even been a month.
I'm not sorry.
When I have somebody like you,
the only things I should think about
are how to care for you
how to keep you.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
211 - Plotting
I mean this most earnestly
I mean it because I've thought about it.
I want
a roommate
just like you.
Maybe even you Eh that's hard to tell.
I want someone to say hello every time I step in, ask me how my day was, then tell me about theirs. I want someone who can have a spontaneous dance party if they're not too busy. Someone who closes their door when they need to, someone who listens to musical theatre, someone to read bits of dialogue. I want someone who'll understand everyone I talk about when I come back from a lecture. Someone who'll ask me to have dinner with them once in a while. Someone to laugh with, and share common areas with alone, and someone who'll stay home, someone who'll go out, someone intense and kind and loyal.
I hope I meet someone there like you.
I'd like to live with them.
I mean it because I've thought about it.
I want
a roommate
just like you.
I want someone to say hello every time I step in, ask me how my day was, then tell me about theirs. I want someone who can have a spontaneous dance party if they're not too busy. Someone who closes their door when they need to, someone who listens to musical theatre, someone to read bits of dialogue. I want someone who'll understand everyone I talk about when I come back from a lecture. Someone who'll ask me to have dinner with them once in a while. Someone to laugh with, and share common areas with alone, and someone who'll stay home, someone who'll go out, someone intense and kind and loyal.
I hope I meet someone there like you.
I'd like to live with them.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
211 - Some nights
-Where are you?
-I'm right here.
-I can't feel you.
-I love you.
-I still can't feel you.
-I'll be with you soon.
-It's not enough.I miss you. I miss you.
-I know.
-I love you. come back to me. please?
-I'm right here.
-I can't feel you.
-I love you.
-I still can't feel you.
-I'll be with you soon.
-It's not enough.I miss you. I miss you.
-I know.
-I love you. come back to me. please?
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
210 - Annoyed Bite
I was so unhappy
when you were in my life
God, the things I did, the rules I broke, the things I told you, the things you told me, the way you touched me, looked at me, treated me.
Why did I lose my mind? Where did my morals go? Why did I want you so badly? And each night you cried, I prayed with every shake of my phone that it'd be you, finally wanting me for good. No more dilly-dallying. But that night never came, and yet I waited. Waited because you led me to believe it would, and soon. I waited around for you. Why did I do that?
You teased me. Over the littlest things. The bigger.
You guilted me and tempted me. Why did I let that happen? Was I truly so lonely? Was I really so desperate? So tired of waiting? So tired of looking.
I was very tired of waiting and looking
How could I not see it wasn't you, for me?
Why didn't you ever deny it?
I'm so angry with you. It's so hard not to be. It's hard to be. It's been over a year and I want things to feel better, inside, I want to not hate this, hate you, but I'm still just so angry with you. If you wanted me to be the one, you should've just done it, you coward. You're terrified. You're weak.and manipulative.
And I'm so glad I don't want you anymore
ever again.
when you were in my life
God, the things I did, the rules I broke, the things I told you, the things you told me, the way you touched me, looked at me, treated me.
Why did I lose my mind? Where did my morals go? Why did I want you so badly? And each night you cried, I prayed with every shake of my phone that it'd be you, finally wanting me for good. No more dilly-dallying. But that night never came, and yet I waited. Waited because you led me to believe it would, and soon. I waited around for you. Why did I do that?
You teased me. Over the littlest things. The bigger.
You guilted me and tempted me. Why did I let that happen? Was I truly so lonely? Was I really so desperate? So tired of waiting? So tired of looking.
How could I not see it wasn't you, for me?
Why didn't you ever deny it?
I'm so angry with you. It's so hard not to be. It's hard to be. It's been over a year and I want things to feel better, inside, I want to not hate this, hate you, but I'm still just so angry with you. If you wanted me to be the one, you should've just done it, you coward. You're terrified. You're weak.and manipulative.
And I'm so glad I don't want you anymore
ever again.
Monday, July 30, 2012
219 - Still Searching
It's strange, walking these streets, knowing you won't be around the corner. Strange, walking around the metros, knowing you won't be on the other side. I know you aren't gone for good, and I know you'll be back. But I miss you. I miss having you here. I miss knowing you're here.
And
And when I go
When I go, I won't be able to call you, will I?
I mean I will be
and
I've always been able to. I've just chosen not to. For so long.
I don't know.
I miss you.
I miss you. I have always missed you.
Is that okay? I don't know if I'm allowed to.
I just do. I can't not. I've never been able to not.
And
And when I go
When I go, I won't be able to call you, will I?
I mean I will be
and
I've always been able to. I've just chosen not to. For so long.
I don't know.
I miss you.
I miss you. I have always missed you.
Is that okay? I don't know if I'm allowed to.
I just do. I can't not. I've never been able to not.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
218 - Straight Through
I remember
my first kiss wasn't really a full-on 'kiss'.
I remember sitting on a bench, twiddling my fingers, and trying not to show how cold it was. Trying so hard not to comment on how frozen solid the bench beneath me was rendering probably even the fibers in my jeans to an uncomfortable state. I remember clamping my hands together, twiddling twiddling twiddling trying to keep warm. And gosh. Just the silliest of feelings in my stomach. Feeling so darn out of place, feeling so out of line. Like I've been wasting both our times. Like I'm just a fool, really, chasing after a dream that'll never work out. Like I've always been a fool, about this one, about you.
and I remember you turned and rested your chin on my shoulder. And I felt it, though your body never moved from remaining just beside me, you rested your chin, then your forehead, lightly on my shoulder, and I heard you inhale, exhale, sigh, inhale. And I felt like such a fool. Like a selfish fool, who's taken so much of your time with my words. me and my words which will never speak louder than actions I will never have the courage to act out. I remember thinking this has truly been a waste of my time. In the saddest of senses. In the most disappointed of senses. in the loneliest. I remember wanting to turn to you and say
Nevermind.
I'm sorry. I've been so silly.
Of course you don't want me.
it's okay if you don't. it's okay that you don't.
I'm sorry you feel terrible about it.
Nevermind.
Can we just pretend like I never said anything?
Nevermind.
So tempted to say this to you,
with whatever foolish courage I had left in me
on such a destitute night of more failure from yours truly.
and then suddenly you lifted your head, so quickly,
and I felt your lips, slowly squeezing together on my cheek
so soft
so soft
so cold
so sweet; if I had tasted it would had been a Frozen Strawberry Tomorrow.
And you held your lips there, on me, for a moment,
like a seal of protection
like a promise and an apology all at once.
and then you parted your lips and retreated with the softest sigh.
oh
I remember I was so happy I could die.
my first kiss wasn't really a full-on 'kiss'.
I remember sitting on a bench, twiddling my fingers, and trying not to show how cold it was. Trying so hard not to comment on how frozen solid the bench beneath me was rendering probably even the fibers in my jeans to an uncomfortable state. I remember clamping my hands together, twiddling twiddling twiddling trying to keep warm. And gosh. Just the silliest of feelings in my stomach. Feeling so darn out of place, feeling so out of line. Like I've been wasting both our times. Like I'm just a fool, really, chasing after a dream that'll never work out. Like I've always been a fool, about this one, about you.
and I remember you turned and rested your chin on my shoulder. And I felt it, though your body never moved from remaining just beside me, you rested your chin, then your forehead, lightly on my shoulder, and I heard you inhale, exhale, sigh, inhale. And I felt like such a fool. Like a selfish fool, who's taken so much of your time with my words. me and my words which will never speak louder than actions I will never have the courage to act out. I remember thinking this has truly been a waste of my time. In the saddest of senses. In the most disappointed of senses. in the loneliest. I remember wanting to turn to you and say
Nevermind.
I'm sorry. I've been so silly.
Of course you don't want me.
it's okay if you don't. it's okay that you don't.
I'm sorry you feel terrible about it.
Nevermind.
Can we just pretend like I never said anything?
Nevermind.
So tempted to say this to you,
with whatever foolish courage I had left in me
on such a destitute night of more failure from yours truly.
and then suddenly you lifted your head, so quickly,
and I felt your lips, slowly squeezing together on my cheek
so soft
so soft
so cold
so sweet; if I had tasted it would had been a Frozen Strawberry Tomorrow.
And you held your lips there, on me, for a moment,
like a seal of protection
like a promise and an apology all at once.
and then you parted your lips and retreated with the softest sigh.
oh
I remember I was so happy I could die.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
217 - Making Plans
They say it's what you make
I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul
I need to let you go
Please make me keep you.
Even if a time comes that I think I don't need to.
Please keep me, then. Fight me.
Fight me, and keep me anyway.
Your eyes, they shine so bright
I want to save their light
I can't escape this now
unless you show me how
Friday, July 20, 2012
216 - Dreams
I got very lost in a possible future today on my way home.
Started thinking about making it huge with a hit musical, then another play that got high applause at the same time as the musical got invited onto Broadway. Suddenly an enormous fanbase, begging for more. A recreation of a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta, contemporary and bright, just a zippy and witty as its original. Headlines everywhere. Money flowing. Money and women and limousines and awards shows and women.
Quite the mind.
It's nice I still want that.
I'm glad it's back.
Started thinking about making it huge with a hit musical, then another play that got high applause at the same time as the musical got invited onto Broadway. Suddenly an enormous fanbase, begging for more. A recreation of a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta, contemporary and bright, just a zippy and witty as its original. Headlines everywhere. Money flowing. Money and women and limousines and awards shows and women.
Quite the mind.
It's nice I still want that.
I'm glad it's back.
215 - Smell
I had a dream about you the other day.
In a distant and near future, I return to Montreal after having let you go, attached to a nameless meaningless fling, abruptly halting conversations to text, avoiding your gaze from across the table as we sit and chatter with friends. We smile, we chat, we pretend being around one another isn't as hard as it surprisingly is. When the party winds up, we seem to tire simultaneously, and your roommate gets tipsy.
We help her home. I help. I don't have to, but I do. I hold her up with a surprisingly strong arm, bring her into your place, and we tuck her into bed with water, remove her boots.
It's late.
You tell me to stay, and we both know you shouldn't, and we definitely know I shouldn't say yes. Which I do. Of course I do. It surprises neither of us.
For the third or fourth time ever, you set up the couch for me, and I approach you from behind, unknowing how to not be near you, wanting so badly to brush my lips against your shoulder, the bottom of your neck, up up up to the whispers of hair beside your small ears. Breathe into you, breathe you in. Instead, you turn around and nearly collide noses with me, whisper a calm apology, a goodnight, and leave.
In the night I lay awake not even close to sleepy, wondering and knowing
feeling
knowing
knowing you aren't asleep either.
I gather courage I find in my coat pocket and get up, walk across the living room, and open your door. Your bedroom is dark, but I can see your figure getting up from your bed and looking at me as I stand in your doorway. We gaze at one another, and I can hear all the words you want to say, hoping you can hear all of mine. You open your covers with your left hand. I close the door, and we feel it's a mistake, but I don't care. I don't care, and I walk over to you, wrap around the bed and get into your bed on your left. And you lay down over my extended arm, and I pull you in so close, and you shift so close to my chest, your hand on me, and I feel your heartbeat in mine.
In a distant and near future, I return to Montreal after having let you go, attached to a nameless meaningless fling, abruptly halting conversations to text, avoiding your gaze from across the table as we sit and chatter with friends. We smile, we chat, we pretend being around one another isn't as hard as it surprisingly is. When the party winds up, we seem to tire simultaneously, and your roommate gets tipsy.
We help her home. I help. I don't have to, but I do. I hold her up with a surprisingly strong arm, bring her into your place, and we tuck her into bed with water, remove her boots.
It's late.
You tell me to stay, and we both know you shouldn't, and we definitely know I shouldn't say yes. Which I do. Of course I do. It surprises neither of us.
For the third or fourth time ever, you set up the couch for me, and I approach you from behind, unknowing how to not be near you, wanting so badly to brush my lips against your shoulder, the bottom of your neck, up up up to the whispers of hair beside your small ears. Breathe into you, breathe you in. Instead, you turn around and nearly collide noses with me, whisper a calm apology, a goodnight, and leave.
In the night I lay awake not even close to sleepy, wondering and knowing
feeling
knowing
knowing you aren't asleep either.
I gather courage I find in my coat pocket and get up, walk across the living room, and open your door. Your bedroom is dark, but I can see your figure getting up from your bed and looking at me as I stand in your doorway. We gaze at one another, and I can hear all the words you want to say, hoping you can hear all of mine. You open your covers with your left hand. I close the door, and we feel it's a mistake, but I don't care. I don't care, and I walk over to you, wrap around the bed and get into your bed on your left. And you lay down over my extended arm, and I pull you in so close, and you shift so close to my chest, your hand on me, and I feel your heartbeat in mine.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
214 - Choices
-Do you think they know how hard that decision was for me?
-I don't know.
-Just answer me.
-No.
-'No'.
-No. They probably don't know how hard that was for you.
-No. They probably don't. And they probably don't care.
-You don't know that.
-They know the bottom line. And the bottom line is I didn't choose them.
-You can't please everyone. And I don't think you've hurt their feelings. It's just..business. It's all just business, you know?
-Business.
-Business.
-It's just that..it wasn't. For a second. For a second there, it wasn't business. It was real. It was passion. It was an exceptional adventure of an opportunity given to someone who goes on and on about grabbing everything life throws at you. And they chose me. They chose me. And I was ready. And for a moment, it wasn't Just Business. It was Real.
-I know.
-I wanted it. I still do.
-I know.
-I don't know.
-Just answer me.
-No.
-'No'.
-No. They probably don't know how hard that was for you.
-No. They probably don't. And they probably don't care.
-You don't know that.
-They know the bottom line. And the bottom line is I didn't choose them.
-You can't please everyone. And I don't think you've hurt their feelings. It's just..business. It's all just business, you know?
-Business.
-Business.
-It's just that..it wasn't. For a second. For a second there, it wasn't business. It was real. It was passion. It was an exceptional adventure of an opportunity given to someone who goes on and on about grabbing everything life throws at you. And they chose me. They chose me. And I was ready. And for a moment, it wasn't Just Business. It was Real.
-I know.
-I wanted it. I still do.
-I know.
Monday, July 16, 2012
213 - Breathing In
There is nothing comparable to seeing you dozing in the early morning, wrapped in nothing but light linen, and knowing that the empty, frazzled spot of lukewarm bedsheets beside you is for me. Knowing that I'm the one meant to lay with you, the one you - even if you are half-asleep - the one you've been waiting for. The only one you want there.here.
here with you.
here with you.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
212 - Skipping Ahead
I remember this one time
in a secluded office upstairs from an imperative rehearsal I should've been attending, with a book of readings I was beyond too far behind on abandoned on the floor. I had turned the lights off, and I listened to your breathing slow. I held you, so close, and you let me, let her hands travel around me, and you touched my bare back with your finger tips and whispered in my ear that you loved me.
And everything slowed, all of a sudden.
I opened my eyes, seemingly useless in the pitch black room, but I opened them and saw everything. Saw the future. Saw uncertainty and certainty all at once. This can't last. The perfection of us and this moment can't last. And regardless of where I will be, who I will become, what I will do, I will always be able to look back on today
on this period of my life
and know that this was real.
You tightened your grip on me
asked if I was alright.
Yes.
Yes, I am okay.
And everything slowed, all of a sudden.
I opened my eyes, seemingly useless in the pitch black room, but I opened them and saw everything. Saw the future. Saw uncertainty and certainty all at once. This can't last. The perfection of us and this moment can't last. And regardless of where I will be, who I will become, what I will do, I will always be able to look back on today
on this period of my life
and know that this was real.
You tightened your grip on me
asked if I was alright.
Yes.
Yes, I am okay.
Monday, June 25, 2012
211 - Screensaver
Nervous pacing, scattered echoes and
a room slowly closing in,
constricting
and inhaling, exhaling, pushing and pushing in and down.
I cross the room, following the grout and observing the walls, wishing I just had a ball to bounce about, something freer, something loose, something with some room to breathe. A tangle of nerves and frustration in my gut, I try to fathom the idea of breaking out, pushing out, or building more padding, which one will make the noise and shifts just stop, stay still, everything is so cold and suffocating all at once.
"Hello?"
And suddenly there you are standing, unmoving, and holding
a...scarf?
And my head snaps up to the intrusion, your figure surrounded by walls usually empty and the room fills with my breathing, and it pulses, changing from off-white to eggshell, to bone then ghost, and you're still just standing there. here. How did
"Can I help?" you ask.
I continue to breathe, trying to catch my breath, but a fear overpowers me that you may tear the walls down and bring some sort of blinding bright light to pierce through the darkness, haul a torn wall, the bare stones at me, or worse walk towards me, touch me. Stay away what do you want who are you what do you want where did you come from who are you. You twitch a bit and seem to move forward so I back away, way back, stretching the space between us and you stop immediately.
"I can go," you offer, and turn to leave.
"No, wait," I say before I realize I am. I do. I do want you to go, but I don't want you to leave. Does that make sense? Go. but don't leave. Don't leave me. I observe the room again, make certain the windows are shut, the doors are locked, double-bolted, sealed with liquid nitrogen, taped and plied together. You shift uncomfortably and I look back at you, take a further step away. "How did you get in?"
You lift a hand out from the folded scarf and let a small key jingle out from a gold rope. "You gave me a key," you say so innocently, and clasp your fingers around it, like a child caught doing wrong. "Don't you remember?"
a room slowly closing in,
constricting
and inhaling, exhaling, pushing and pushing in and down.
I cross the room, following the grout and observing the walls, wishing I just had a ball to bounce about, something freer, something loose, something with some room to breathe. A tangle of nerves and frustration in my gut, I try to fathom the idea of breaking out, pushing out, or building more padding, which one will make the noise and shifts just stop, stay still, everything is so cold and suffocating all at once.
"Hello?"
And suddenly there you are standing, unmoving, and holding
a...scarf?
And my head snaps up to the intrusion, your figure surrounded by walls usually empty and the room fills with my breathing, and it pulses, changing from off-white to eggshell, to bone then ghost, and you're still just standing there. here. How did
"Can I help?" you ask.
I continue to breathe, trying to catch my breath, but a fear overpowers me that you may tear the walls down and bring some sort of blinding bright light to pierce through the darkness, haul a torn wall, the bare stones at me, or worse walk towards me, touch me. Stay away what do you want who are you what do you want where did you come from who are you. You twitch a bit and seem to move forward so I back away, way back, stretching the space between us and you stop immediately.
"I can go," you offer, and turn to leave.
"No, wait," I say before I realize I am. I do. I do want you to go, but I don't want you to leave. Does that make sense? Go. but don't leave. Don't leave me. I observe the room again, make certain the windows are shut, the doors are locked, double-bolted, sealed with liquid nitrogen, taped and plied together. You shift uncomfortably and I look back at you, take a further step away. "How did you get in?"
You lift a hand out from the folded scarf and let a small key jingle out from a gold rope. "You gave me a key," you say so innocently, and clasp your fingers around it, like a child caught doing wrong. "Don't you remember?"
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
210 - Trusting
I will never want to do this.
To ruin a trust so much that
I am disappointed in you
that I don't want to share
anything
with you.
I already know
you will misinterpret
be jealous
be paranoid
be angry.
for no reason
for no reason whatsoever.
To ruin a trust so much that
I am disappointed in you
that I don't want to share
anything
with you.
I already know
you will misinterpret
be jealous
be paranoid
be angry.
for no reason
for no reason whatsoever.
Monday, June 18, 2012
219 - Trade
Dear You
I don't love you as much as I should.
Nowhere near.
I think I tell myself that
I must
like you
otherwise I wouldn't have spent this much time on you.
Maybe that's just something I like to think
to avoid realizing I've wasted so much time on you.
I can't acknowledge waste.
I can't be this much of a sellout.
I don't love you as much as I should.
Nowhere near.
I think I tell myself that
I must
like you
otherwise I wouldn't have spent this much time on you.
Maybe that's just something I like to think
to avoid realizing I've wasted so much time on you.
I can't acknowledge waste.
I can't be this much of a sellout.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
218 - Back
Once upon a time
somebody kissed me
and my life started.
I remember this one time
half asleep dozing fading wheezing loving dreaming
the smallest finger on my arm and
the softest whisper
the further 'I love you', followed by my full name.
the absolute furthest declaration I'd ever heard
like you were reaching forwards in time
dragging me back to this moment
don't forget me
don't forget this
I love the real you.
Somebody kissed me
and made me young.
and every kiss after
made me real.
218 - Insert Foot
It didn't cross my mind that maybe you don't have a father.
That maybe you don't talk about him
because he isn't around (anymore).
I'm very sorry.
I should have thought of that
I didn't.
I should have but I didn't.
I'm very sorry.
You'll make a great father someday, you know.
That maybe you don't talk about him
because he isn't around (anymore).
I'm very sorry.
I should have thought of that
I didn't.
I should have but I didn't.
I'm very sorry.
You'll make a great father someday, you know.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
217 - Too Soon
This
is a mistake.
Maybe a big one, maybe a small one.
Maybe you'll smile and brush me off
maybe it's one you have to make
maybe it's one you think you have to make.
I don't think it is.
And I apologize
because what I think doesn't matter.
But I think
it's a mistake.
You won't grow.
With her.
You know that, right?
Whatever lessons you've learnt,
whatever sort of person you want to be,
you won't find it with her.
You won't grow with her, either.
is a mistake.
Maybe a big one, maybe a small one.
Maybe you'll smile and brush me off
maybe it's one you have to make
maybe it's one you think you have to make.
I don't think it is.
And I apologize
because what I think doesn't matter.
But I think
it's a mistake.
You won't grow.
With her.
You know that, right?
Whatever lessons you've learnt,
whatever sort of person you want to be,
you won't find it with her.
You won't grow with her, either.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
216 - Giving
'What can I do
to deserve you more?'
I try to answer this question
every morning
every day.
Square One
every morning.
I am luckier than I was last night.
to deserve you more?'
I try to answer this question
every morning
every day.
Square One
every morning.
I am luckier than I was last night.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
215 - Giddy
Do you remember
that first night
breathless breathing
shaking fingers
a dance in me wanting to erupt
I told you I never wanted this feeling to end.
You replied, "Gosh, I know."
I still feel that way.
that first night
breathless breathing
shaking fingers
a dance in me wanting to erupt
I told you I never wanted this feeling to end.
You replied, "Gosh, I know."
I still feel that way.
Friday, June 8, 2012
214 - Some Nights
There are few things in this world that I love more than your laughter.
sometimes it travels upwards
and diagonally
through my lungs before scattering around the aorta pipes
with butterfly wings fluttering incessantly as I try to think.
other times it fills my chest to its' heaviest, warmest foam expansion,
bubbling lightly over with traces and mint hints of pride
and a giddy grinning peace of my own.
sometimes it travels upwards
and diagonally
through my lungs before scattering around the aorta pipes
with butterfly wings fluttering incessantly as I try to think.
other times it fills my chest to its' heaviest, warmest foam expansion,
bubbling lightly over with traces and mint hints of pride
and a giddy grinning peace of my own.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
213 - Crowds
More days than not,
I've relatively resolved to grow up to be one of those stern fathers from coal mines, who wake for work at 5am, and home at 5pm.
dinner on the table.
Don't speak to him unless you're asked a question, kids.
he doesn't hate you.
he's just
tired.
I've relatively resolved to grow up to be one of those stern fathers from coal mines, who wake for work at 5am, and home at 5pm.
dinner on the table.
Don't speak to him unless you're asked a question, kids.
he doesn't hate you.
he's just
tired.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
212 - Portable Homes
I had a dream about you the other day.
We ran into one another at a Broadway show. You were
so beautiful.
You were just
there
working a job on the 2 line, stationed there for the next few years.
I told you I'd message you
and then I did.
We met up for coffee,
and I finally, at long last, told you I've missed you. And you said it back.
And in some ways, it felt right. It felt like time.
We ran into one another at a Broadway show. You were
so beautiful.
You were just
there
working a job on the 2 line, stationed there for the next few years.
I told you I'd message you
and then I did.
We met up for coffee,
and I finally, at long last, told you I've missed you. And you said it back.
And in some ways, it felt right. It felt like time.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
210 - Billboards
Yes
i am painfully aware that there are more days
than not
when I regret this decision.
But
things change, right?
Things always change.
I know they will.
I just
hate
waiting.
i am painfully aware that there are more days
than not
when I regret this decision.
But
things change, right?
Things always change.
I know they will.
I just
hate
waiting.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
207 - Tiny Vessels
The flowers in your hallway are fake.
I could barely believe it as I touched a dry petal. Have they been fake all alone or have I only noticed it now? I always thought they were real.
The comparison here is not lost on me. don't worry.
A distinct thought in my mind:
'I know exactly what the other side of this door smells like.'
It did. smell the same. your room.
just as I remembered, actually.
didn't think I would've, but I did.
We really did care for one another
in our own twisted unhealthy ways.
maybe even love.
I learnt what I learnt.
and I'm glad you did too.
maybe that's all we are to one another. lessons.
that's okay too, you know?
that's worthwhile in a different way
you know?
I could barely believe it as I touched a dry petal. Have they been fake all alone or have I only noticed it now? I always thought they were real.
The comparison here is not lost on me. don't worry.
A distinct thought in my mind:
'I know exactly what the other side of this door smells like.'
It did. smell the same. your room.
just as I remembered, actually.
didn't think I would've, but I did.
We really did care for one another
in our own twisted unhealthy ways.
maybe even love.
I learnt what I learnt.
and I'm glad you did too.
maybe that's all we are to one another. lessons.
that's okay too, you know?
that's worthwhile in a different way
you know?
Monday, May 28, 2012
206 - Fighting Sunsets
I remember
a jealous, frustrated mindset
flickers of moments that may never have happened
hands
lips
skin
gasps.
I remember shaking my head and trying not to think
trying not to imagine you with anyone else
trying not to think of other kisses
of loving caresses and longing gazes.
then
I remember your hands on my cheeks
refocusing my eyes on yours
steadying me back to reality.
I remember your pause.
A pursing of your lips.
Serious eyes.
You: "My lips and my body and my heart and my mind
have never been anyone else's."
I remember my heart thudding against chains
warm, foam water sloshing about inside.
You repeated; "Never."
And I died a little bit inside.
I remember holding you
being held
both.
I remember your whisper: "Don't leave me.
When the rest of the world wants you,
come back to me."
I remember loving you more than I thought possible.
then
a soft groan from you:
"I love you. It consumes me."
I remember feeling home.
a jealous, frustrated mindset
flickers of moments that may never have happened
hands
lips
skin
gasps.
I remember shaking my head and trying not to think
trying not to imagine you with anyone else
trying not to think of other kisses
of loving caresses and longing gazes.
then
I remember your hands on my cheeks
refocusing my eyes on yours
steadying me back to reality.
I remember your pause.
A pursing of your lips.
Serious eyes.
You: "My lips and my body and my heart and my mind
have never been anyone else's."
I remember my heart thudding against chains
warm, foam water sloshing about inside.
You repeated; "Never."
And I died a little bit inside.
I remember holding you
being held
both.
I remember your whisper: "Don't leave me.
When the rest of the world wants you,
come back to me."
I remember loving you more than I thought possible.
then
a soft groan from you:
"I love you. It consumes me."
I remember feeling home.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
204 - Fantasies
She asked so leisurely and I'd heard her grin through the phone.
It was as though yes I was leaving but
some things-some things stay the same
yes the world is full of surprises and we are young
but some things
are certain.
I can't do that, friend.
Please don't ask me to.
I can't quite afford to think like you.
Please don't ask me that.
I can't answer that.
Not yet.
It was as though yes I was leaving but
some things-some things stay the same
yes the world is full of surprises and we are young
but some things
are certain.
I can't do that, friend.
Please don't ask me to.
I can't quite afford to think like you.
Please don't ask me that.
I can't answer that.
Not yet.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
203 - Comparisons
What an immense amount of security marriage must be.
or
foolish assumptions of loyalty
and mutual values.
or
foolish assumptions of loyalty
and mutual values.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
202 - Missing Chances
I honestly thought the email I'd written to you was the most painful letter I would ever have to write, ever. And until today, that was true.
I suppose
I knew I wouldn't regret that letter.
I knew it'd change things, but I knew I wouldn't regret it.
I'd take the consequences, horrible as they might have been
horrible as they were.
But this. Sending this rejection email.
this isn't what I want.
But
that's the difference, isn't it.
business.
That's all this is.
It shouldn't hurt this much. Yes it should.
I wonder if I'll regret this.
I suppose
I knew I wouldn't regret that letter.
I knew it'd change things, but I knew I wouldn't regret it.
I'd take the consequences, horrible as they might have been
horrible as they were.
But this. Sending this rejection email.
this isn't what I want.
But
that's the difference, isn't it.
business.
That's all this is.
I wonder if I'll regret this.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
201 - Giving Chances
"I dunno," I said, "I agree it's not stupid but you're right, I don't think so either. I guess I just think your soul mate must be somebody who...doesn't need you to be someone you aren't."
"Right," you agreed, "Like someone who loves you just the way you are."
"No," I said, "Like someone who doesn't need you to be someone you aren't."
"Isn't that the same thing?" you smiled.
"No," I repeated.
"They sound like the same thing to me," you kept grinning.
And the joke was lost on me. I couldn't smile even if I wanted to. It wasn't funny. So instead I looked away. "Well they're not," I said, and finally could see from the edge of my eye your smile slowly fading.
Maybe I could've been kinder. But
yknow
They're not.
"Right," you agreed, "Like someone who loves you just the way you are."
"No," I said, "Like someone who doesn't need you to be someone you aren't."
"Isn't that the same thing?" you smiled.
"No," I repeated.
"They sound like the same thing to me," you kept grinning.
And the joke was lost on me. I couldn't smile even if I wanted to. It wasn't funny. So instead I looked away. "Well they're not," I said, and finally could see from the edge of my eye your smile slowly fading.
Maybe I could've been kinder. But
yknow
They're not.
200 - Love Letters
Dear 1, I still think
that flower was romantic.
There's only so much a third grader can offer anyone, really. I'm sorry you weren't feeling it, I would've been a really good influence on you. It's unfortunate you're still in CEGEP. Keep at it. All the best.
Dear 2, I still think
about you
when I'm happy, or feeling lost, nostalgic. I'm sorry you didn't feel comfortable telling me you weren't, but I don't personally regret much. We should try to be friends, you know, when we can get over all this. It was all I wanted. You were, are, an even better influence on me than you realize. I wish you nothing but a life of bliss, truly. Please keep me warm in your thoughts always.
Dear 3, I still think
we would've been really good together.
Nothing long term, oh goodness no, I don't think we would've ever fallen in love, but we could've been very happy. We're not good friends anymore because I got a bit disillusioned with you, but you're going to make someone very lucky one day, being the catch that you are. Keep in touch.
Dear 4, I still think
I could've treated you better.
I'm sorry, and I promise I've gotten better at casual dates, and dating, now. It wasn't you or me, you know, we just spent so much time being who we thought the other one wanted we didn't realize we just weren't well suited. Hope you're well, though.
Dear 5, I still think
you know how I felt about you.
I even kind of told you, eh? That one night, and you were really very quite lovely about it. I'll probably never really say it outright, but I'm glad if I did, you wouldn't be surprised. I know we'll always be friends, and that's definitely how we should stay. See you soon.
Dear 6, I still think
you know me better than I know myself.
And to be honest, I'm glad you've stopped drinking around me. I wish you'd be a bit happier for me, but I can understand how you might not be. It's still weird for me, sometimes, to see you with her. I hope we can stay close though, because it's possible, and we were doing so well there, for a while, remember?
Dear 7, I still think
you played me.
Maybe you honestly did like me too, but not as much as you liked my attention. I'm sorry you're so neglected, but I don't miss you much, to be honest. I hope you can stick that nose into my business sometime and realize I'm quite happy, and I was right about you. You're not.
Dear 8, I still think
you missed out on me.
It's hard to think of what could've come of us, since I think we're really good now, but if you wanted, I think I could've made you happy. Maybe not. I'm not sorry I tried, and tested the waters, but you really weren't interested, eh? I hope you go for the real thing, you know, if and when the time comes. Take care.
Dear 9, I still think
you're not as straight as you've convinced yourself you are.
And this is not to say I think you're a liar, or I know you better than you do, but something isn't right, and I know you must feel that, too. I remember the makeup, shaking hands, fluttering eyelids and careful words in romantic texts. Please please please don't lie to yourself. Be happy. It wasn't me, but it isn't going to be a boy, either.
Dear 10, I still think
I probably would've kissed you back had you ever tried.
But that wouldn't have been right, would it? We're good as friends, you know? I do have some feelings for you, but trust that you're not the one for me, friend. You're destined for a very different person, maybe a guy. I don't think I'd like him very much, but you will. Stay sane and keep me posted.
Dear 11, I still think
we handled that car wreck of a date phenomenally well.
I wasn't feeling it because I was so head over heels for someone else, obviously, but when you have so little to no levels of chemistry like that, should we even be friends? I think you're amazing, though, you know? You really are. Don't ever think I don't. You're amazing, but maybe next time a wave will do.
Dear 12, I still think
what I told you that night
and maybe I always will. I'd like to. And I think that counts for everything. I don't know if I feel that, but I know that I want it to be, and I think that's healthier. And when I'm with you, I feel old, and young, and terrified, and safe, and lost, but found, and home. You still, everytime, smell like patience, and time.
that flower was romantic.
There's only so much a third grader can offer anyone, really. I'm sorry you weren't feeling it, I would've been a really good influence on you. It's unfortunate you're still in CEGEP. Keep at it. All the best.
Dear 2, I still think
about you
when I'm happy, or feeling lost, nostalgic. I'm sorry you didn't feel comfortable telling me you weren't, but I don't personally regret much. We should try to be friends, you know, when we can get over all this. It was all I wanted. You were, are, an even better influence on me than you realize. I wish you nothing but a life of bliss, truly. Please keep me warm in your thoughts always.
Dear 3, I still think
we would've been really good together.
Nothing long term, oh goodness no, I don't think we would've ever fallen in love, but we could've been very happy. We're not good friends anymore because I got a bit disillusioned with you, but you're going to make someone very lucky one day, being the catch that you are. Keep in touch.
Dear 4, I still think
I could've treated you better.
I'm sorry, and I promise I've gotten better at casual dates, and dating, now. It wasn't you or me, you know, we just spent so much time being who we thought the other one wanted we didn't realize we just weren't well suited. Hope you're well, though.
Dear 5, I still think
you know how I felt about you.
I even kind of told you, eh? That one night, and you were really very quite lovely about it. I'll probably never really say it outright, but I'm glad if I did, you wouldn't be surprised. I know we'll always be friends, and that's definitely how we should stay. See you soon.
Dear 6, I still think
you know me better than I know myself.
And to be honest, I'm glad you've stopped drinking around me. I wish you'd be a bit happier for me, but I can understand how you might not be. It's still weird for me, sometimes, to see you with her. I hope we can stay close though, because it's possible, and we were doing so well there, for a while, remember?
Dear 7, I still think
you played me.
Maybe you honestly did like me too, but not as much as you liked my attention. I'm sorry you're so neglected, but I don't miss you much, to be honest. I hope you can stick that nose into my business sometime and realize I'm quite happy, and I was right about you. You're not.
Dear 8, I still think
you missed out on me.
It's hard to think of what could've come of us, since I think we're really good now, but if you wanted, I think I could've made you happy. Maybe not. I'm not sorry I tried, and tested the waters, but you really weren't interested, eh? I hope you go for the real thing, you know, if and when the time comes. Take care.
Dear 9, I still think
you're not as straight as you've convinced yourself you are.
And this is not to say I think you're a liar, or I know you better than you do, but something isn't right, and I know you must feel that, too. I remember the makeup, shaking hands, fluttering eyelids and careful words in romantic texts. Please please please don't lie to yourself. Be happy. It wasn't me, but it isn't going to be a boy, either.
Dear 10, I still think
I probably would've kissed you back had you ever tried.
But that wouldn't have been right, would it? We're good as friends, you know? I do have some feelings for you, but trust that you're not the one for me, friend. You're destined for a very different person, maybe a guy. I don't think I'd like him very much, but you will. Stay sane and keep me posted.
Dear 11, I still think
we handled that car wreck of a date phenomenally well.
I wasn't feeling it because I was so head over heels for someone else, obviously, but when you have so little to no levels of chemistry like that, should we even be friends? I think you're amazing, though, you know? You really are. Don't ever think I don't. You're amazing, but maybe next time a wave will do.
Dear 12, I still think
what I told you that night
and maybe I always will. I'd like to. And I think that counts for everything. I don't know if I feel that, but I know that I want it to be, and I think that's healthier. And when I'm with you, I feel old, and young, and terrified, and safe, and lost, but found, and home. You still, everytime, smell like patience, and time.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Nine
Please tell me what to say.
where to go.
who I am.
or
remind me.
maybe I'll call you.
where to go.
who I am.
or
remind me.
maybe I'll call you.
Monday, April 23, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Eight
I remember
I used to worry about finding someone
who'd ruin me.
Ruin my path. Throw me off.
be
illogical.
be
stupid.
Give up writing. Give up fame.fortune.connections.
the crowds.the parties.the people.
I used to worry about finding someone, because I did. I did find people. I did find a slew and more of people who made me want to sit down at long last, to put myself first, to consider a life in kitchens and bedrooms, instead of meetings and writing labs.
I worried, because instead of flirting, instead of smiling at those cute bartenders, instead of buying a beer for the costumer, instead of winking at the stage manager, instead of lingering a hand on a friend whose own gaze lingers on mine, dull restrictive predictable monogamy would've been enough. I found these people who gave me the possibility of a new life, a light blue life of new-ness, of family, of trust and dependency.
I used to worry that work could be substituted with love.
I used to worry that morality could be substituted with love.
I used to worry that life, my life, could be enough, if I satisfied one person.
If I could impress you, I didn't need anyone else.
If I could have you, I didn't need to do anything else.
I used to worry, because
that was horrible.
Relationships
feelings
are silly.unhealthy.
skewing.
and
now
I worry about
choosing things over you.
I think about choosing structure, and logicality. What does that even mean. I think about choosing schedules, and timelines. I worry about choosing 'right' paths, making 'right' decisions over you. I worry about balance. I worry about not putting you first, sometimes.
"Are you going to regret it?" she asked, and she looked at me like she already knew the answer. She looked at me like she was trying to tell me I already did, and would. She looked at me with the kindest of kind smiles and I felt
too old.
too old and foolish to have chosen success
over everything.
You are right.
For me.
For the future, you are everything that is logical.
Nothing makes sense unless you're there.
Nothing in this place we call 'future' looks, feels, right, unless you're there, too.
I've never felt this way before.
I used to worry about finding someone
who'd ruin me.
Ruin my path. Throw me off.
be
illogical.
be
stupid.
Give up writing. Give up fame.fortune.connections.
the crowds.the parties.the people.
I used to worry about finding someone, because I did. I did find people. I did find a slew and more of people who made me want to sit down at long last, to put myself first, to consider a life in kitchens and bedrooms, instead of meetings and writing labs.
I worried, because instead of flirting, instead of smiling at those cute bartenders, instead of buying a beer for the costumer, instead of winking at the stage manager, instead of lingering a hand on a friend whose own gaze lingers on mine, dull restrictive predictable monogamy would've been enough. I found these people who gave me the possibility of a new life, a light blue life of new-ness, of family, of trust and dependency.
I used to worry that work could be substituted with love.
I used to worry that morality could be substituted with love.
I used to worry that life, my life, could be enough, if I satisfied one person.
If I could impress you, I didn't need anyone else.
If I could have you, I didn't need to do anything else.
I used to worry, because
that was horrible.
Relationships
feelings
are silly.unhealthy.
skewing.
and
now
I worry about
choosing things over you.
I think about choosing structure, and logicality. What does that even mean. I think about choosing schedules, and timelines. I worry about choosing 'right' paths, making 'right' decisions over you. I worry about balance. I worry about not putting you first, sometimes.
"Are you going to regret it?" she asked, and she looked at me like she already knew the answer. She looked at me like she was trying to tell me I already did, and would. She looked at me with the kindest of kind smiles and I felt
too old.
too old and foolish to have chosen success
over everything.
You are right.
For me.
For the future, you are everything that is logical.
Nothing makes sense unless you're there.
Nothing in this place we call 'future' looks, feels, right, unless you're there, too.
I've never felt this way before.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Seven
I had a dream about you the other day.
I think I just
want you to feel that moment
so much.
I'd somehow travelled back in time to our first year right before February, maybe in early January. I'd gone into your building to visit a friend, a new friend, a friend I'd created in my mind, who lived on the ninth floor, and you on the twelfth.
It doesn't make sense, thinking back, I have no idea where you lived in first year, which floor, and certainly not twelve. But nonetheless we met on the elevator.
You'd gotten on right after me and we stood beside one another, and as the almost broken shaft slowly crossed the first floor I turned to you, observed the length of your hair, so different, but your profile still the same, the soft strings of your hair right behind your ears still the same, your ears still the same, your eyes always. You were looking away, at the slowly illuminating floor numbers, before noticing my gaze and slowly turning to me, wary.
"I'm sorry," I said, not looking away, "It's just that..."
You grew worried immediately, as though your fingers were ready to fly to a button to emergency stop this conversation, kick me out and be well on your way.
"You're beautiful," I finished, and I watched as your face turned from confusion to disbelief, but as you looked back into my eyes, still, always focused on you, you grew uncomfortable, to curious. "Hasn't anyone told you that today yet?" I asked.
And you shook your head.
"I'm sorry," I said again, and extended my hand to you, "Have we met?"
"I don't think so," you replied slowly, even slower at taking my hand and shaking it, and I heard a little intake of breath as our hands closed around one another, and I smiled to myself as I watched your eyes dance over me, your head running a thousand miles a minute. You wanted me to kiss you, but you didn't understand why. You'd kiss me back, but you didn't understand why. Yes you did. No you didn't. Yes you did.
We arrived at my floor and I released your hand, so warm, and murmured, "This is my floor."
You were silent, and only watched me go.
As the doors shut and I heard the elevator continue climbing up to yours, I smiled to myself again and travelled forward, back to the present, where I try my best to make certain someone tells you you're quite lovely, every day.
I think I just
want you to feel that moment
so much.
I'd somehow travelled back in time to our first year right before February, maybe in early January. I'd gone into your building to visit a friend, a new friend, a friend I'd created in my mind, who lived on the ninth floor, and you on the twelfth.
It doesn't make sense, thinking back, I have no idea where you lived in first year, which floor, and certainly not twelve. But nonetheless we met on the elevator.
You'd gotten on right after me and we stood beside one another, and as the almost broken shaft slowly crossed the first floor I turned to you, observed the length of your hair, so different, but your profile still the same, the soft strings of your hair right behind your ears still the same, your ears still the same, your eyes always. You were looking away, at the slowly illuminating floor numbers, before noticing my gaze and slowly turning to me, wary.
"I'm sorry," I said, not looking away, "It's just that..."
You grew worried immediately, as though your fingers were ready to fly to a button to emergency stop this conversation, kick me out and be well on your way.
"You're beautiful," I finished, and I watched as your face turned from confusion to disbelief, but as you looked back into my eyes, still, always focused on you, you grew uncomfortable, to curious. "Hasn't anyone told you that today yet?" I asked.
And you shook your head.
"I'm sorry," I said again, and extended my hand to you, "Have we met?"
"I don't think so," you replied slowly, even slower at taking my hand and shaking it, and I heard a little intake of breath as our hands closed around one another, and I smiled to myself as I watched your eyes dance over me, your head running a thousand miles a minute. You wanted me to kiss you, but you didn't understand why. You'd kiss me back, but you didn't understand why. Yes you did. No you didn't. Yes you did.
We arrived at my floor and I released your hand, so warm, and murmured, "This is my floor."
You were silent, and only watched me go.
As the doors shut and I heard the elevator continue climbing up to yours, I smiled to myself again and travelled forward, back to the present, where I try my best to make certain someone tells you you're quite lovely, every day.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Six
Maybe there's only enough room for one broken individual, in a relationship. It's not a question of co-dependence, but balance. Of fit. You can't put two messes together. You can't make something out of raw materials alone. Someone has to have a blueprint.
There has to be
some sort of balance.
when the gusts came around to blow me down,
I held on as tightly as you held onto me.
I held on as tightly as you held onto me.
There has to be
some sort of balance.
when the gusts came around to blow me down,
I held on as tightly as you held onto me.
I held on as tightly as you held onto me.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Five
I'm so tempted to call you again.
I know I shouldn't.
I've just grown to forget the reason why sometimes.
Sometimes.
Not all the time.
But sometimes.
I just...miss you.
I miss you.
I have always missed you.
Isn't that a good enough reason?
Wasn't it always?
I remember when it was.
I remember
you told me you'd miss me.
I believed you
I know I shouldn't.
I've just grown to forget the reason why sometimes.
Sometimes.
Not all the time.
But sometimes.
I just...miss you.
I miss you.
I have always missed you.
Isn't that a good enough reason?
Wasn't it always?
I remember when it was.
I remember
you told me you'd miss me.
I believed you
but I still left.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Four
It'd be interesting to live one day in a world
where I can tell my kids
'People used to kill themselves.
People used to kill each other.
Because people loved each other.
Because there was so much love in the world
people thought they should take it out
with violence.'
It'd be interesting to live in a world
where it's no big deal
anymore.
where I can tell my kids
'People used to kill themselves.
People used to kill each other.
Because people loved each other.
Because there was so much love in the world
people thought they should take it out
with violence.'
It'd be interesting to live in a world
where it's no big deal
anymore.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Three
It was just a hi.
Your mother answered, though you answered last year, your father the year before that.
i don't remember further than that.
Your mother
(she liked me.
I remember she liked me
your sister did, too)
must've called you from upstairs
I was a bit off, this year. Fifteen minutes, to be exact.
Sorry. Life threw some curveballs.
I heard you, just loudly on the phone, a 'hi'
not a 'hello', as though you wondered who it was
as though you wanted to make sure no one hung up
no
a 'hi', with my name following swiftly.
You knew. You knew it was me. I know you knew. We know.
i've missed you.
can we get tea soon? please?
it's been too long.
We said none of these things.
I'm glad you're happy. I truly am. I want you to be.
It's all I've ever wanted for you.
be happy. be ecstatic. be joyful and loose and loving.
be loved.
be wonderful, everyday.
when someone asks you how you are reply 'wonderful'
reply 'wonderful, thank you, how are you?'
And I'm glad you'll be here, for a while.
Montreal would be different
for me
without you.
Maybe it wouldn't be Montreal
without you.
and I'll take you with me
you know?
wherever I go
I will always remember an 8pm call on 4/4.
I'll take you with me.
Your mother answered, though you answered last year, your father the year before that.
i don't remember further than that.
Your mother
(she liked me.
I remember she liked me
your sister did, too)
must've called you from upstairs
I was a bit off, this year. Fifteen minutes, to be exact.
Sorry. Life threw some curveballs.
I heard you, just loudly on the phone, a 'hi'
not a 'hello', as though you wondered who it was
as though you wanted to make sure no one hung up
no
a 'hi', with my name following swiftly.
You knew. You knew it was me. I know you knew. We know.
i've missed you.
can we get tea soon? please?
it's been too long.
We said none of these things.
I'm glad you're happy. I truly am. I want you to be.
It's all I've ever wanted for you.
be happy. be ecstatic. be joyful and loose and loving.
be loved.
be wonderful, everyday.
when someone asks you how you are reply 'wonderful'
reply 'wonderful, thank you, how are you?'
And I'm glad you'll be here, for a while.
Montreal would be different
for me
without you.
Maybe it wouldn't be Montreal
without you.
and I'll take you with me
you know?
wherever I go
I will always remember an 8pm call on 4/4.
I'll take you with me.
Friday, April 6, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Two
I wonder what the chances are that I've actually got it right
this first time.
this first time.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety One
I still dream about you.
maybe I always will.
happy birthday.
I'll miss you.
maybe I always will.
happy birthday.
I'll miss you.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Nine
I remember this one night
amongst friends.
Your hand on my knee, grazing and tracing
tracing and grazing
and I felt
anchored.
a moment
For some reason I'd slipped out of your reach and spoke to her, in a hushed tone, as she ate gingerly at her french fries. "Relationships," she said with a smack, "They should be..." she paused, "Easy. and reciprocal." And she continued eating, so sadly, so incredibly sadly, and it's been a while since I've seen anyone reach for ketchup so unhappily, so disappointed in long distance, so downtrodden on love and ready to give up.
And for a moment I tapped into her, I tapped into everything she was feeling, I tapped straight into the loneliness and lost feeling of being alone and not being okay with that, and not wanting to be, and trying to reach for a specific hand that wasn't reaching towards you at all and I remembered what it was like. I remembered what I was like. I remembered.
my.
And for a moment I tapped into her, I tapped into everything she was feeling, I tapped straight into the loneliness and lost feeling of being alone and not being okay with that, and not wanting to be, and trying to reach for a specific hand that wasn't reaching towards you at all and I remembered what it was like. I remembered what I was like. I remembered.
my.
How far I have come.
Friday, March 30, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Eight
It happens, you know.
it
I mean it does
happen.
some people
not everyone but some
some people wake up beside the same person every day, still just as if not moreso in love as they were the day beforehand. Some people are wonderous and lucky and so aware of it.
isn't that enough? It should be.
it will be.
for me.
I will wake up every morning,
luckier than the night I just passed in warm arms.
it
I mean it does
happen.
some people
not everyone but some
some people wake up beside the same person every day, still just as if not moreso in love as they were the day beforehand. Some people are wonderous and lucky and so aware of it.
isn't that enough? It should be.
it will be.
for me.
I will wake up every morning,
luckier than the night I just passed in warm arms.
Monday, March 26, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Seven
I remember this one time you wondered
why two people who loved each other
enjoy being physically close.
And I smirked
and wrapped an arm around you
bringing you closer
I'd think of an answer another day.
I think
maybe
as naive
as horrendously sappy as it sounds
maybe
I think
I mean I guess I
I think maybe
it feels like
Yes
Maybe because it feels like
there's a little piece missing, a dip in my heart, a little curve on the side, a missing piece, like it's been chipped off. And there's the same kind of..missing part in yours, too. And when we get closer..it's like they link together. It's like they
fit
together.
And suddenly it's like we can breathe. I mean we could before. But now we can breathe in..in a different way. Like breathe..in a way that we were always meant to, maybe.
is that silly?
it sounds silly.
i feel silly.
why two people who loved each other
enjoy being physically close.
And I smirked
and wrapped an arm around you
bringing you closer
I'd think of an answer another day.
I think
maybe
as naive
as horrendously sappy as it sounds
maybe
I think
I mean I guess I
I think maybe
it feels like
Yes
Maybe because it feels like
there's a little piece missing, a dip in my heart, a little curve on the side, a missing piece, like it's been chipped off. And there's the same kind of..missing part in yours, too. And when we get closer..it's like they link together. It's like they
fit
together.
And suddenly it's like we can breathe. I mean we could before. But now we can breathe in..in a different way. Like breathe..in a way that we were always meant to, maybe.
is that silly?
it sounds silly.
i feel silly.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Six
I had a dream about you last night.
You walked by me, in your bright red/orange coat.
Now's about the time you would start wearing it.
Fall/Spring.
You wear it tight around your waist and loose below, loose above.
Never a scarf.
Maybe you've never found one you like.
You walked by me, in your bright red/orange coat.
I wonder if you'll ever do that.
Walk by me
and we can just
be
around each other.
You walked by me, in your bright red/orange coat.
Now's about the time you would start wearing it.
Fall/Spring.
You wear it tight around your waist and loose below, loose above.
Never a scarf.
Maybe you've never found one you like.
You walked by me, in your bright red/orange coat.
I wonder if you'll ever do that.
Walk by me
and we can just
be
around each other.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Five
You know what though, if I were being totally and completely honest?
If one day you just walked across the campus and set aside all the eye flirting, just had an off-day, or a weird day, a day for action or just a really great day, and you decided to just go for it, once and for all, cos I'm graduating, cos it's been quite a long time, cos you've grown quite curious
If one day you just walked across the campus and set aside all the eye flirting, just had an off-day, or a weird day, a day for action or just a really great day, and you decided to just go for it, once and for all, cos I'm graduating, cos it's been quite a long time, cos you've grown quite curious
for whatever reason on whatever day,
if one moment you decide to walk over and grab me and kiss me, only to walk away immediately after with that strut you strut, that smile you smile,
I'd be all for that.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Four
I can't do that.
I can't be that person, anymore.
I can't be this person who puts work in front of everything.
I can't be that person, anymore.
I can't be this person who puts work in front of everything.
everything
everyone.
I can't.
It's exhausting.
it's emptying.
it's exhausting.
it leaves no room for feeling
for reality
for happiness.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Three
The one thing I have never doubted
though
is the limit of audio in writing.
There is something about hearing
about listening
there is something about noises and sounds
that words can never capture.
The sound of sobbing. The sound of someone's heart cracking open, the sound of trust being broken, disbelieving gasps and cries of agony, lost in turmoil.
and the sound of love. The smacking of teeth and laughter. Laughter, relaxed and unforced. Smiling, the slipping of top and bottom lips when you can hear the smile on a phone, eyes being pushed together, you can hear them being pushed together.
The sound of trust. Comfortable sighs and unhurried yawns. Fumbling hands and firm grips, and easy bodies and loud agreements of inside jokes and conclusive sounds.
No, words can only capture so much.
I have never doubted this.
Words cannot capture what ears can do.
I have never doubted this.
Words cannot capture what ears can do.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Two
I often wonder what the age is.
I wonder what the number is
when 'young love' becomes 'real love'
when 'young love' becomes 'real love'
What is the age
when feelings become valid
when do I become old enough to have a right to feeling
when do I become old enough to have a right to feeling
how I already do
Monday, February 20, 2012
One Hundred and Eight One
I do wonder though
why they're all religious.
I mean that's an odd 'type'
isn't it?
Of varying levels of faith
and practice
and initial belief.
But still.
all religious.
I mean that's odd
isn't it?
why they're all religious.
I mean that's an odd 'type'
isn't it?
Of varying levels of faith
and practice
and initial belief.
But still.
all religious.
I mean that's odd
isn't it?
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty
I waited a really long time for you.
A while ago
I honestly didn't think you existed.
But I kept waiting.
Monday, February 13, 2012
One Hundred and Seventy Nine
I had a dream the other day.
And they said to me, with their eyes
It
worked out.
Between us.
We worked out and
you followed me to LA.
I don't know why I was there. I don't know why I chose it. Maybe I had no choice. But I was there, and happy, filled with music and stories and inspiration left and right. Filled with energy, and a new found love for everything that is what I do, how I do it. You stood beside me, blonde, for some reason, every step of the way, complete with shoulder rubs and warm tea on harder nights, and supportive midnight kisses, and secret whispers.
everything.
And on an opening night, my parents came, to a smashing world premiere of lights and sound, and I stood at the dead centre, awaiting their applause. But instead they looked at me, so confused, and so disappointed. So
disappointed in me
in a way they've never been.
And I felt
so looked after.
And they said to me, with their eyes
What have you done? Where is she? Why did you do this?
Are you happy now?
Are you happy now?
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
One Hundred and Seventy Eight
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
One Hundred and Sixty Three
I can't help but think
you would know what I want.
If, somewhere along the way, we hadn't lost each other
if you hadn't stopped looking for me
if I hadn't dropped the white flag
You would be an immense help
right now.
You know me.
i still feel this way.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
One Hundred and Seventy Seven
I remember this one time
almost a year ago today
The worst day.
almost a year ago today
The worst day.
I texted you, when I knew I shouldn't have.
I wanted to see you, hear your voice, feel your arms around me.
I wanted to see you, hear your voice, feel your arms around me.
But
when I saw you at Atwater, waiting for me,
I just stayed on.
when I saw you at Atwater, waiting for me,
I just stayed on.
I don't know why, in retrospect. I could've jumped off the metro, but instead I pretended like I didn't see you. I stood you up, and you didn't appreciate that. I don't know why I did it.
I don't think I wanted you to see me like that.
As much as I thought I did. I didn't.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
One Hundred and Seventy Six
I remember this one time.
Walking home from the metro, a chilly rainfall aftermath. It was such a cold night. It had been a grey, grey afternoon, and a dingy, bleak night.
shaking fingers
hesitant breaths
one call
two call
three
It takes me three phone calls to finally get out what I want to say.What I really want to say. I want to say a lot more. I want to say something ungentlemanly. I want to yell. I want to swear. I want to drink. I want to say a lot of other things. But instead I say what I know I should. I say the truth, cos the truth is all that matters. "At the end of the day, I don't have you. I don't have a right to feel this, any of this; you're not mine, and I don't have you."
It is terrible. And I have never said it aloud to myself. Whispered it in dreams, written it, wondered it, yelled it at the top of my lungs tonight, but never have I said it, heard it, felt the words on my tongue. They are bitter, and they taste of jealousy and failure.
"You don't think you have me?" You say, instead of an apology. Instead of an accusation. Instead of an explanation or hang up or anything else rational or irrational, anything I could have prepared myself with, you instead answer with a question, a rhetorical one. Out of everything in the world you could have said, you choose to say "You don't think you have me?" in such a hurt voice. Then; "Not even a little?" with the kindest hitch in your throat I feel myself shrink down to the size of a pebble, like a fool, like a fool so stuck in my own world, like you must be kidding and it isn't funny, like how could I not know this, don't I know that, don't I know this, haven't you been paying attention to anything that's been happening, don't I know?
Then
in the softest of voices
so soft I imagine I hear it
but you say it
you say
"Not even more?"
I remember
pushing the phone away from my ear and mouth
just for a moment
just to swallow something in my throat
just to stop a clenching in my chest
I fail at both
I remember
i couldn't walk.
I just stood.
shaking fingers
hesitant breaths
Walking home from the metro, a chilly rainfall aftermath. It was such a cold night. It had been a grey, grey afternoon, and a dingy, bleak night.
shaking fingers
hesitant breaths
one call
two call
three
It takes me three phone calls to finally get out what I want to say.
It is terrible. And I have never said it aloud to myself. Whispered it in dreams, written it, wondered it, yelled it at the top of my lungs tonight, but never have I said it, heard it, felt the words on my tongue. They are bitter, and they taste of jealousy and failure.
"You don't think you have me?" You say, instead of an apology. Instead of an accusation. Instead of an explanation or hang up or anything else rational or irrational, anything I could have prepared myself with, you instead answer with a question, a rhetorical one. Out of everything in the world you could have said, you choose to say "You don't think you have me?" in such a hurt voice. Then; "Not even a little?" with the kindest hitch in your throat I feel myself shrink down to the size of a pebble, like a fool, like a fool so stuck in my own world, like you must be kidding and it isn't funny, like how could I not know this, don't I know that, don't I know this, haven't you been paying attention to anything that's been happening, don't I know?
Then
in the softest of voices
so soft I imagine I hear it
but you say it
you say
"Not even more?"
I remember
pushing the phone away from my ear and mouth
just for a moment
just to swallow something in my throat
just to stop a clenching in my chest
I fail at both
I remember
i couldn't walk.
I just stood.
shaking fingers
hesitant breaths
Monday, January 30, 2012
One Hundred and Seventy Five
I kissed somebody.
In a chilly rainfall, on a lukewarm night
with slush on the streets and a yellow glow overhead
I - we - waited until it picked up
and it stopped being drizzle
and started being rain
and then kissed.
How was it?
None of your business, really.
I wanted to say
I'm sorry it had to be right at your apartment.
I didn't plan that.
I know
I know because you told me so many times
when you shouldn't have
I know that you were so certain you'd be my first
my first a lot of things
but you weren't.
And you never will be.
I'm sorry. I don't mean to be happy to spite you.
I just am.
Maybe with time you'll learn to be, for me.
In a chilly rainfall, on a lukewarm night
with slush on the streets and a yellow glow overhead
I - we - waited until it picked up
and it stopped being drizzle
and started being rain
and then kissed.
How was it?
None of your business, really.
I wanted to say
I'm sorry it had to be right at your apartment.
I didn't plan that.
I know
I know because you told me so many times
when you shouldn't have
I know that you were so certain you'd be my first
my first a lot of things
but you weren't.
And you never will be.
I'm sorry. I don't mean to be happy to spite you.
I just am.
Maybe with time you'll learn to be, for me.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
One Hundred and Seventy Four
I wonder if I'll ever have to find you again, some day.
If I'll lose you. and have to find my way back to you.
I wonder if I'll lose you
and be okay with that.
I wonder if I can't do this.
I wonder if all my wonders are more than wonders, they are facts about me, not incapabilities, but mannerism, but character, but the way I am built. I wonder if I can't do this.
I wonder if I can
and think I can't.
I wonder if I will think I can't.
I wonder if you'll become a regret,
a very distant memory in this blog. (One of many.)
I wonder if one day
I will sit on the bed of someone
stroking their knee
kissing their cheek
caressing their hair
and tell them
in the most hushed voice and pained expression
about someone I knew
back when I lived in Montreal.
If I'll lose you. and have to find my way back to you.
I wonder if I'll lose you
and be okay with that.
I wonder if I can't do this.
I wonder if all my wonders are more than wonders, they are facts about me, not incapabilities, but mannerism, but character, but the way I am built. I wonder if I can't do this.
I wonder if I can
and think I can't.
I wonder if I will think I can't.
I wonder if you'll become a regret,
a very distant memory in this blog. (One of many.)
I wonder if one day
I will sit on the bed of someone
stroking their knee
kissing their cheek
caressing their hair
and tell them
in the most hushed voice and pained expression
about someone I knew
back when I lived in Montreal.
One Hundred and Seventy Three
You
are so passive aggressive.
You are hands down the most passive aggressive person I have ever met.
You are hands down the most passive aggressive person I have ever met.
It handicaps you. It literally prevents you from moving forward. You are so close minded, so dead set in your haughtiness, you are so certain of yourself that you are incapable of bending to reality, you are incapable of keeping your head focused. You are impossible to talk to.
If you are upset
be upset.
Be irritated. Be hurt. Be loud.
Do not smile.
I am not your friend.
Not today.
Not today.
And
and maybe not tomorrow.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
One Hundred and Seventy Two
I wasn't always like this.
and I know that's such a general statement, and not very specific, and unclear in its optimism, realism, security and reliability. I know that. I know this. I know me.
I haven't always been like this.
I think I liked it better, sometimes.
Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, I think I liked it better
I liked you better.
I liked me around you better.
I liked us better
cos we meant less.
and I know that's such a general statement, and not very specific, and unclear in its optimism, realism, security and reliability. I know that. I know this. I know me.
I haven't always been like this.
I think I liked it better, sometimes.
Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, I think I liked it better
I liked you better.
I liked me around you better.
I liked us better
cos we meant less.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
One Hundred and Seventy One
I've been having this dream lately.
After a few years of giving up on all of it, all of the work and writing and crowds. After giving in, and letting loose, I realize I'm lost. So lost, too lost in myself, in my ambition and drive, in the mess of these people, in the flashes of reviews and waves of criticism, it's too much.
It's too much and I lose myself.
I lose myself, still so young, with something I thought I was willing to give.
But it isn't a life I need to live. Not really.
I lose myself and come back
'back'
and you don't meet me at the airport.
But you invite me to your place, with the same smile, with a familiar tea in a familiar mug, and we sit and smile and talk of the stars and diaries and success. And when I get up to leave, you hug me, so quickly, so briefly, the briefest of holds, and turn away in pain. I realize I should say something, but I don't. Instead I take my hat and tip it, shrug on my coat.
And then
I say your name, softly. I don't mean for it to be a whisper but it is, and you turn back around and kiss me. You inhale and fall towards me, close your eyes and kiss me, your arms on my shoulders and fingers on my neck, I can only drop my bag and hold you close, with a fierce and desperate loneliness and confidence. It's familiar, and right.
Thank you for finding me you say
and I can't shake the need to say it back to you.
You know
I never meant to store a feeling of home in you.
But I think I have.
After a few years of giving up on all of it, all of the work and writing and crowds. After giving in, and letting loose, I realize I'm lost. So lost, too lost in myself, in my ambition and drive, in the mess of these people, in the flashes of reviews and waves of criticism, it's too much.
It's too much and I lose myself.
I lose myself, still so young, with something I thought I was willing to give.
But it isn't a life I need to live. Not really.
I lose myself and come back
'back'
and you don't meet me at the airport.
But you invite me to your place, with the same smile, with a familiar tea in a familiar mug, and we sit and smile and talk of the stars and diaries and success. And when I get up to leave, you hug me, so quickly, so briefly, the briefest of holds, and turn away in pain. I realize I should say something, but I don't. Instead I take my hat and tip it, shrug on my coat.
And then
I say your name, softly. I don't mean for it to be a whisper but it is, and you turn back around and kiss me. You inhale and fall towards me, close your eyes and kiss me, your arms on my shoulders and fingers on my neck, I can only drop my bag and hold you close, with a fierce and desperate loneliness and confidence. It's familiar, and right.
Thank you for finding me you say
and I can't shake the need to say it back to you.
You know
I never meant to store a feeling of home in you.
But I think I have.
One Hundred and Seventy
I realized I haven't thought about you much, this break.
For perhaps the first time in a very long time, I have not thought about you.
I don't feel as though that's a betrayal.
I know you don't.
It's just new. Not thinking about you.
I haven't done that, in so long, have I.
I miss you, though. Still.
I do.
But I think I'm letting go.
For perhaps the first time in a very long time, I have not thought about you.
I don't feel as though that's a betrayal.
I know you don't.
It's just new. Not thinking about you.
I haven't done that, in so long, have I.
I miss you, though. Still.
I do.
But I think I'm letting go.
Monday, January 2, 2012
One Hundred and Sixty Nine
Hey.
I'm sorry.
I made a mistake.
No one will ever love you
the way she does.
I'm sorry. I pushed you into the wrong arms. I see that now. It may be too late, it may be just in time, I don't know, I can't tell. But I'm sorry. I meddled when I knew I shouldn't have but thought it was for the better. I was silly. I was so silly. I'm sorry. I don't know how late it is, I don't know if there's anything left to fix. I don't know what more I can do. But I don't know how to not tell you this. I'm so sorry.
I think
I think you've made a mistake.
I made one, too.
the way she does.
I'm sorry. I pushed you into the wrong arms. I see that now. It may be too late, it may be just in time, I don't know, I can't tell. But I'm sorry. I meddled when I knew I shouldn't have but thought it was for the better. I was silly. I was so silly. I'm sorry. I don't know how late it is, I don't know if there's anything left to fix. I don't know what more I can do. But I don't know how to not tell you this. I'm so sorry.
I think
I think you've made a mistake.
I made one, too.
No one will ever love you the way she does.
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