12.14.10
you look good in my shirt. you feel good in my skin and my skeleton loves you more than the lightyears it took us to get here. every minute that i’m awake is another mile between us and the day your cheekbones whispered stories to my clavicle and i fell asleep drenched in your scent. my pillows no longer smell like you, nor do they recall your name. but my my frame still remembers, and none of me is patient.
12.14.10 (II)
if this lovely chaos should ever come to an end, i want you to know that i am grateful for all of the seconds that your beauty has graced the earth with its presence; grateful for every glimpse you gave me to the inside of your skull.
12.11.10 you remind me of what it’s like to fall in love in elementary school. it’s the third grade and that crayon-carrying cutie pie just brushed my hand at the water fountain and lingered a bit too long, a grin on his face somewhere between devilish and nervous and embarrassed and sleepy. that crush may have withered when the next school year came around and there was a new kid with an even cooler backpack, but i will never forget that first love recess moment. i want you to take me to see a movie, awkwardly bumping knuckles in our bag of shared popcorn. you and me, we’re not even pg-13, no warnings of “possible nudity” or “some violence” here. but i like it that way. i love you from a place somewhere deep in my chest, not between my legs. we can fly kites and climb trees and ride bikes until we collapse in to a sun-streaked mess on the scratchy grass and i know that you will be maybe wanting to kiss me, but you are too scared, or maybe just polite. and so, for once in my life, i take the initiative and gingerly lift your head from its cloud-watching position and look at you a while. there are ants crawling on my toes and blades of grass stuck in my hair. the wind is blowing my bangs across my forehead and cutting up my vision so i only see you in bits and pieces. when i put that puzzle together, it is beautiful and i have to close my eyes in order to stop staring. and i squeeze them, tight, and my hands are shaking, still holding your face. i’m silently praying that you’ll lean just slightly forward and kiss me, because this is too much for me to take. and then, just like that, your lips press against mine. one thousand choruses from one thousand sappy love songs are playing in my head, fuzzing like static and blending together; an out of tune radio, but nothing has ever sounded so good. then it is quiet and your kiss is on my nose, my cheeks, my mouth again. there are no thoughts of what base comes next, no slippery roaming fingers, just this. we drove up to the mountains and i covered myself in blankets the sun’s been gone all season and i covered myself in blankets it can’t hold me like you do all i want is for you to touch me. but please, don’t look too closely. wide and teary eyed. i will not let you beneath my skin. i will not let you between my thighs. there will be no free tour of the far reaches of my mind. once upon a time, i let a boy, who made promises we both knew he couldn’t keep, pry me open. he made me feel beautiful when he cupped me in his hands and named my parts words with too many syllables. i am softer than that. the language i speak is made up of vowels; hushed whispers and sweet sounds were turned harsh and jagged at the edges, mixed in with letters like “W” and “X” that make every word sound angry anyway. but then, we do silly things for love. and i admit, i was a fool. i have seen enough episodes of law & order: svu to know when i am being screwed, but i turned the other cheek. my fear of being alone clouded my vision and so i let him touch me, and that was fine. physical contact was never the issue. the problem was where the lines of consent got blurred and crossed; i let him rape me of my emotions. i allowed him to rob me of my voice. and of all the diseases i could have contracted, i was left with the one i could handle the least. it seems that the sign of “intimacy issues” will be forever plastered across my forehead. i remember i told him once that he should have come with a warning, and now it’s me that needs the disclaimer: do not enter. do not touch me. do not get too close. i will only run away when we get to the best parts. i will only end up breaking your full and open heart. please do not allow me to spill your cup and leave you empty. all that my hands know anymore is how to take, trying to replace the things that were stolen from me. dreams turning broken like shards of glass, twisting in as i bite to break the skin that covers your wrists. i need the extra layers of love, and i am no longer comfortable in what i once called my own. this is no way to convey that all i really want is for you to TOUCH ME. love me, love me; i may as well be screaming out “use me, abuse me”. tear me in two. i am telling you that i will only cause you pain. i am telling you that i am trouble. a bundle of insecurities wrapped up in too many curves. a trembling little girl. i don’t know who to be or what to believe. branded: jaded. stigmatized. untouchable. it’s not you, it’s me. but i will always pretend that you’re the one who needs fixing. if he left me with one thing, it was the hard exterior of a girl much less fucked up than i am. if he taught me one useful thing, it was to never let them see you cry. never let them see you fall, never let them see you worn down, open and bleeding on the floor, tearing out your hair in frustration, on your knees praying to gods you don’t even believe in, in the fetal position; pitiful, pathetic. human. emotional molestation. just keep on taking, give it up before they get the best of you. so i remain tough. on the outside i am this brick wall, only breaking in the discomfort of my own bed at night, letting dirty pillows soak up the tears and swallow the screams, taking punches from balled fists that hold the parts of the heart of the girl that i love now. the girl that i will never be able to love the right way, the girl who is so passionate that she literally takes my breath away and sometimes that is just what i need. lightheaded and dizzy and not able to think clearly enough to keep my distance, i can wrap her up inside of me and i can tell her that i love her but the moment my feet touch the ground again, i take ten steps backward; close enough to keep her here but far enough to keep my insanity to myself. and every morning i have to ask myself if today will be the day that she finally gets sick of it and gives up on me. see, all i want is to be able to stop blaming her for the mistakes of this stupid boy who had no clue what he was doing with my heart. all i really want, is for her to touch me. but sometimes she looks too closely. when i am trapped under that magnifying glass, i have never been less curious or more closed. i am afraid to let her see my cracks. i am afraid to let her see my imperfections, blackened pores and bags under my tired eyes. because she will love me anyway. that is something i have never experienced; and i have always shied away from the unknown. i am beginning to crumble, though. my foundations were never that strong; built on things like mediocre sex and mistrust and always settling for second best. as the bricks fall away, she replaces them with cement and stone. she paints me blue to cover up the old cuts and bruises that were my own form of punishment for not being good enough for him. with every new addition, with every problem she solves, i take a half step toward her and her open arms. she is the embodiment of love, and it is because of this that i have decided to let go of the past and allow her to rename my parts. when i hold you, i think i squeeze too tightly. i press you too near to me and love you far too much, far too hard. somehow, suffocating you doesn’t seem to be enough. i want to pull you in to me. i want to cradle you in my hands and offer you to the heavens as a thank you, as a sign that everything will be okay because look, look what i have here. beauty in my palms. wrapped up in cracked and leathery skin, but you still smell like starlight. you still taste like moonshine and sip after sip i just can’t get enough. i want to drown in you. i want to bask in the glory of your invisible angel wings. i want to forget everything else in this world and wrap myself in to your arms. i will wear your affection like a suit of armor; i will be a savage ready for the war that is bound to happen when they come to take you away. i will not let you go. i will sew our hip bones together, gritting teeth through the pain, if only to stay close to you for always. and we will bleed, but we will bleed golden on to the dull pavement and give this life some color. i will paint you rainbows on the ceiling that keeps us from floating away together; i will break these windows and replace them with stained glass the color of your eyes, lighting our path like fireflies in the summer. i will steal away the winter so that you will never have to feel cold. i will be a thief for you, i’d rob anyone, anyone. or at least, i would try. for you, i would try. in the end, i’ll settle down where the seashells go to rest; underneath the pier where (in my delirious mind), you drive me to ecstasies. actually, back in reality-land, i haven’t been touched in years (no matter whose hand i may have been holding). the closest moment i’ve felt to passion was the time i lost myself in the confines of my shower, water beating down for hours. it was six showers, really. six in one day. my house smelled like a spa. i guess in the beginning i was attempting to simultaneously rid myself of fingerprints that didn’t match my own, and figure out just who, just who this girl is underneath all of the buildup. and i did. i reached a climax that day, and it had nothing to do with orgasms. and when i stepped out, there was no one there holding a warm towel. there was no one around to watch me put on my makeup and say, “baby, you look perfect.” but that was just fine. 2.8.10 you always enjoyed my strawberries ‘n creme scent i always wondered how you could love something like that hugging me was always an excuse to take a deep breath, now you have stolen a taste. 2.8.10 (II) unknown date unknown date (II) unknown date (III)
it’s the way no one could see me but you; the way i would fade in to white, too translucent for them to even graze with eyes only used to seeing what they knew to be true. it was you who taught me that sometimes we just need to bleed in order to be seen. sometimes i still try to catch a glimpse of myself in foggy windows, but the image is distorted and twisted and i wonder what you say when you looked at me straight, head-on; powder and painted lips, forward and right side up. could you see beneath that? maybe you were far more well-adjusted, you sure acted like it, and i could never see behind your surface. the image of you in my mind is still pixelated and missing essential parts. i have no idea who you are and you like it that way. still, i can’t let it go. i can’t let it fall and i can’t forget.
11.24.10
it was never easy but it hasn’t always been this hard. i remember nights spent wrapped in blankets, when hearing a single chord from a popular song could make me smile. nights when people i’d met five minutes before felt more like family than the ones i’d shared 16 years of life with. i was half in love with every pretty girl or fucked up boy who glanced at me, with their warm eyes and trembling hands and deep breaths mimicking the harsh smoke i exhaled. and none of those halves made a whole. i was cut in to thirds and the pieces didn’t match up, but when you’re only one-third in charge of your life, it doesn’t really matter.
the hard part comes later, when you try to fix your broken self and the stitches don’t want to heal. the hard part comes later, when you can only be half-honest and you don’t know which half is all-true. the hard part comes later, when you look in the mirror and you can’t remember what your face looked like yesterday or four years ago, and your hands are cold and your eyes don’t make sense. the hard part comes later, when you bite your nails down to the quick, searching for the answers you couldn’t find elsewhere but all you get is the bitter taste of reality: you can’t go back. not to 2006. not even to yesterday.
and you’re left with too many halves, and too many holes.
11.23.10
i am nowhere near the edge of fearless but i can pretend to be dangling there, holding on to whispers of “i love you” that are fueled by how good this moment tastes. i’m drunk and i’m clumsy and i’m falling for the person you are in comparison to who i am. you’ve been trying to teach me how to live this life like it’s the last one i’ll get but i know if it’s up to you, i’ll let go of your heartstrings and fall in to the unknown canyons and i don’t want to be cradled by tree branches. i want to be held by you, comforted by the song of your breath’s pattern against my darkest places, like you’re trying to breathe light in to me. i’m not as serious as you think i am, i’m just scared. i’m scared that if i try to catch sunlight the same way you do, i’ll end up shining too brightly. stars burn out and die all the time when the glow gets too harsh. i don’t want to be elusive. i want to be hard and loud and in motion. but i’m not fearless and i know this isn’t the last life i will live. i’ll let go of your edges if you let my fall take as long as i need. i’ll let go if you promise not to drop me. you can show me the canyon another time. for now, introduce me to the stars in the constellations that you’ve named after your mother and your dog and your first love and your childhood best friend. we can teach them to stay lit forever. i will let go of your edges and in turn i will love you, not for who you are in comparison to me, but for who you are when we buy cheap wine and turn off the lights and make up words to songs we’ve never even heard. i will love you for who you are when you press yourself in to my dark places without any fear. i will love you because these moments are too fast and empty without you. and because i’ve loved you in every life i’ve lived before this, whether i lived slowly or couargeously or recklessly, i lived every one for you.
11.21.10
i want to kiss your pomegranate lips and let our seeds grow together, giving birth to ruby-stone pixie girls in july. i want to take you berry picking in the summer, paying homage to the brothers and sisters and cousins of the fruit of your womb.
11.10.10
if you are ever hurting, i will kiss your wrists and tattoo affirmations of love over every bruise. i will soften your hardened pieces and teach you to be strong instead of scared. fall in to me.
9.10.10
7.16.10
to where the snow begins
just to catch the flakes on our tongues
you made me white angels on the ground
and whispered carols in my ear
while i watched, smoke clouding my lungs
but they could never keep me as warm as
wrapping myself in you
the winter chill has set in
the tree’s up on the lawn
and this fireplace won’t do
it can’t cradle me like you
it can’t hold me like you do
since the day you left
you promised the time would go by quickly
but every day seems longer than the one before
i’m starting to forget your face
can’t even hear your voice anymore
but they could never keep me as comfortable as
losing myself in you
the gifts have all been wrapped
none of them bear your name
and this fireplace won’t do
it can’t cradle me like you
it can’t hold me like you do
6.24.10
6.16.10
i store my insecurities in the back of my throat. it’s been getting harder to eat and yesterday these two stick figures marched up to me wanting to know how come they never see me consume anything, but the weight never seems to go anywhere. i wanted to swallow my pride and giggle at them, get down on their level, but i couldn’t. my insecurities were in the way - so i stapled it to the back of my knee. and when i went to the doctor and he tested my reflexes they didn’t work, and it hurt, you know, blow upon blow to my pride. i was like some porcelain doll, or at least that’s what he compared me to. i just bit my tongue and smiled but i was barely even there anymore. i closed my eyes and pictures played behind my lids, a slideshow of everything that had been. do you remember the day you made me this way? you wanted to change me and even though i knew you failed your sculpture class last semester, i melted into your hands and let you mold me in to everything you wanted. i needed you to be proud of me, see. your joy was always far more important than my autonomy. now i can’t understand my anatomy, can’t figure out what i was born with, what you took away or added later to fit your wishes. it’s so strange, almost like if i try to think too hard about what and who i used to be, i’ll shatter. i push it sometimes, to the point where i can feel my edges folding and little cracks etching their way across my flesh. those days, i can remember a tinkling, twittering sound escaping me… i used to laugh. i used to laugh at everything, it wasn’t hard to make me grin. it was even easier to make me cry. that’s what caused all of this in the first place. you needed someone who could be beaten without bleeding, who could be insulted without bruising. someone completely egoless and without a shred of self respect but who wouldn’t be too co-dependent. a porcelain doll (there it is again) that you could bend to your will and place back on the shelf when you were finished. you created me and loved me well. i was your favorite toy, until i wasn’t anymore. you cast me aside. we all have to grow up some time.
6.14.10
she is on a boat, she told me not to forget. how could i? it is the thing that is taking her away from me. well, metaphorically anyway. she isn’t gone yet. and when she actually takes her leave, it will be on a great skyship. i will never literally have to throw her out to sea (but still, she answers the siren’s call).
should i be jealous that her first priority, her ladylove, her everything, will always be her work- doing all she can to protect the country who does nothing to protect her; the country that forces her to live in fear, to be branded the government’s property.
stealth: they can’t ask and she doesn’t dare tell. but there are whispers, and every day her requirements of me grow stricter and farther away from this great big world of “out” that i have finally entered at the ripe young age of eighteen: freedom. which, ironically, is what she is fighting for (though if i want to be with her, i have next to none). but to be with her, i do, i do i do i do. even though she said flag burning is more offensive than book burning, i can forgive.
“with liberty and justice for all” except those damn homos.
and god, i remember, DO i remember, reciting that pledge every. single. day. of my elementary school career. i never cared to find out what it meant. i don’t think any of us did. then, my stepfather went overseas when i was eleven and i was practically bursting at the seams with pride, bragging about my big brave daddy off in some country whose name i would never learn to spell correctly, protecting me and you, and you and you and even you. each morning when that bell went off, signaling it was time to stand and face the flag, i was the first one out of my chair, head held high with perfect posture, pronouncing each word and still not having any idea what i was talking about.
now, i know. i understand the words that the majority of this country has had pounded in to their young, impressionable minds for ages. sometimes, i wish i didn’t get it, because knowing the dictionary definition of each and every one, makes it so difficult to be proud of her.
but i try, because she is a hero. despite what my beliefs may be and regardless of how anti-war anti-military anti-republican anti-almost everything i am, i can not deny that fact. and, if i am being honest with myself, i know that i am being selfish. i never had this much against our troops until she came along. because now i am in love with a soldier. with a female soldier, who is in love with me. a female soldier who says she will do her five year contract and then leave, but somehow, i don’t think it works that way. i know she loves her job. she loves this country, she loves the service and i am torn. i know in my heart, i love her enough to stick around through anything but the thought of being her secret girlfriend forever, the idea of a non-wedding and unborn children and all of the dreams we have for our future being taken down rapid machine-gun-fire style, kills me.
the notion that she would leave something that means more to her, perhaps more than i should, because of me is even worse. consider me buried, six feet under (i’ll even be bitter enough to say this war was the death of me).
6.7.10
5.18.10
now, not so much. i don’t burn quite so brightly on my own anymore. i don’t think you would have to run away these days. i sing myself memories and slip in to fantasies far too often lately, and sometimes it is a bit difficult to tell one from the other. i leave my phone turned on for ages and eventually let it die because i know, i just know that you won’t be calling. eventually i will plug it in. i feel bad, letting it die that way. it’s not my phone’s fault that you won’t say my name anymore. or even look at me, really. oh, but i have seen you. time and again i have seen you, latched on to one girl or another. (and yeah, i’ll admit it, they are all far prettier than i am.) each time has been different. once, you dropped your eyes to the floor. could you not bear to look at me, or were you hoping i hadn’t seen them slipping past lids, catching a glimpse and pulling away? but even those few seconds weren’t the worst.
the worst, the worst was when i saw you and you saw me. we were alone in “our” diner. not alone alone, but seperate and lonely alone. and you looked up from your menu (we both know what you were planning to order) and saw me seeing you. you gave me that vague half smile, like you knew me, maybe… but you just couldn’t figure out from where. that was the hardest. i smiled and waved. i wouldn’t let you be a coward. you nodded and went back to your menu and i swear you didn’t look back up for your entire twenty six and a half minute meal. i know because i was watching.
i left before you, dignity intact. i didn’t invite myself to squeeze in your booth, to try to talk things over one last time. i didn’t look at you again, or brush your shoulder on the way out. it took all of my guts. and when i got in to my car, i couldn’t help but laugh. you can act like we’ve never met, but i have seen you naked. i know all of your parts, and what they add up to. i know your secret scars and crevices and every single curve of your body.
in the end, you will meet me at the diner. you will apologize for the way you behaved that day, and every day before and after up until this point here. if i let you, you will take my hand and lead me to the pier. i will build a sandcastle. i will dig a hole in the sand. and we will rest with the seashells, between grains.
maybe i am finally learning to do things the right way. i’ve let the bad parts in but now i have to cast them aside. i’ll pack your heart, soul, the memories we’ve collected in to this suitcase. i’ll drive out to where sand meets sea, to where the creatures from the stories you’re so good at telling live. they’ve been waiting for me. they’ve haunted my second childhood. and even though i never believe in them, i can’t say i’m shocked to find them here. it’s been a long time since you told their stories, but they are static. so much like you. for you are the ocean, constantly in motion but never really going anywhere. i guess i like the consistency, the stability. the one thing in my world i can always count on.
but you know, there used to be a glass table in my old living room, from before when i was welcome. it was sturdy, reliable, unbreakable. but when she made me leave i smashed it to bits. i guess what i’m trying to say is that sometimes it only takes a bit more emotion to get the blood flowing. to get the immovable object to move. i have always been the unstoppable force and lately i am starting to think that i have moved you. so now it’s time for me to go - because once your feet start to pedal, who knows where they will lead you. and i will not be left.
5.12.10
i’ve watched you drowning for far too long; my little mermaid-prince best friend being swept underneath the current, struggling against a storm that is far more furious than the muscles in your arms can handle. gravity is working it’s magic and you can’t stay much of anywhere but down while the whirlpool of her harsh words and blows swirl and stir the shitstorm of incoming insults. and i’ve thrown you about sixty-two life vests by now but i guess most of them have gotten lost in the tide. because i know if you had seen them, you would have grabbed on and come back to me, right?
4.1.10
tonight i’ll watch you sleep, my wistful words and tone of voice creeping in one ear and out the other, begging you to unbreak broken, pleading for you to fix what’s torn. please, please mend these mistakes, the ones we’ve both made. i’m far too weak to be reborn, not nearly strong enough to do this on my own. carry me for once. press me in to your pocket, my body against your chest, humming in time and singing in tune with the rhythm of your heart, beating away and breaking apart.
i never thought things would end here. i never thought things would end at all. maybe i should have been more prepared. nobody ever warned me about the fall.
autumn’s come and gone, my favorite season is over. the dried leaves stick to the ground and to my feet, following me inside. fallen and unaware that they are dead - there’s nothing i can do for them. there’s nothing i can do for you. i tried. i tried to reattach them to their former limbs, just like i tried to reattach me to your cold and jaded heart. sometimes things break and there’s no way to rebuild them. i have to begin again, have to find a brand new start.
3.29.10
the difference between them lie somewhere along the lines of winter versus summer. for a while, i trailed footprints in the snow and i made angels while he was looking away, because he would think i was silly otherwise. but the chill has crept under my sweater and the fur hood of this coat is worn. i long for the embrace of the sun beating against my neck, leaving me soaked in sweat - but is it from the heat of the weather? or from the warmth she emits when she strips me of my winter layers and wraps me up in her summer breeze.
3.12.10
last night i brushed my teeth until they bled buckets over my faux-stone bathroom floor, grinned crimson in to the showertearstreaked mirror and left the stains for somebody else to obsess over. this morning i woke to my mother’s cock-a-doodle-fuckyou crow and sat up, only to begin rippingtearingshredding my limbs. sorry mom, you’ll have to walk the dog today.
3.12.10 (II)
you make me feel a bit more sane, or perhaps… crazier(?)but far less alone. i guess the only way to make sense of it is to say, well hey, you feel just like home. like i could open your door and walk right in and there would be a low-calorie frozen cardboard meal waiting for me and no mirrors anywhere, anywhere. and grizzly bear would be playing on a constant loop and there would be no oven to speak of but plenty of plath to lose myself in. maybe i wouldn’t always be happy but i would be forever brilliant and filled with emotion due to the everlasting supply of those beautiful whitebluegreeneverycolor pills that leave me in ecstasy (see what i did there?)
no troubles no worries no pain
just you just me
homehomehomehome
(the store-brand purchased kind)-
you always smelled of filth and sweat and speed
(don’t you remember, those talks of amphetamine-induced body odor?
all signs pointed to you)
drink in as much as you could- as much as i would allow.
i finally understand the cliche of the forbidden fruit.
check one:
[male] or [female]
but what if you’re
either
or neither
or just,
not?
i met my boyfriend on a dating site where he was forced to identify as ‘she’ because of the built in confusion that lies between his unshaven legs. this manly man of near unwavering heterosexuality was described as “19/female/lesbian”, hoping that maybe if he was categorized as such, he would meet a nice young woman who doesn’t mind her guy having a vajay.
i love my boyfriend’s pussy. and if he were instead an xy-chromosomed she, i would love her dick;
sex is sex is sex and so what if your clit doesn’t fit perfectly in to my slit? you still got me screaming your name, oh baby, and maybe you’ll be calling me daddy this time if we’re so inclined. you be girl and i’ll be boy and vice versa and everything in between; it doesn’t matter because this silly little thing called gender is just a word and it’s even more fluid than the cum that runs down my thighs when i pound my man’s cunt with that eighty dollar strap on cock:
the only thing i need to become the boy of his deepest dreams
bending the binary as i bend him over my knee.
i am saving your place as if i were a marker in the scrapbook of we, a dog-eared page in the novel full of fantasy lands you created just for me. sometimes pages unfold, business is left unfinished. love stories are left untold. but i will wait, saving your place, saving your page, until you find the time to pick me up again and write us an ending.
you find the light in the deepest of my dark, and drive away the things that haunt me when night falls. you trade the madness in my affection for passion and as for my faults, you collect them while i do my best to reject them, turn away, leave them for another day. our friends all say “you’re so young” but oh, look what we’ve done, see what we’ve made. it’s all aglow, baby; the love that chases those monsters who claim they can pray this away- but they can’t. so instead they’ll try to destroy this home we’ve made together. can’t they see you’ve already broken down my walls? your heart answers those missed calls that the others just declined, leaving me lonely and ring-ring-ringing off the hook. speaking of rings, i think you should buy me one. you’ve already hooked in to me like a line cast to sea and the metaphorical ring wrapped around my finger is growing dull. get me something shiny and new so i can show off this “you” part of “we” wherever i may go. and oh, wherever i do go, i hope you plan to follow. don’t just leave me hanging, ringing off the hook. i still need you to chase away the monsters when i’m too afraid to look.
i hate the sound of windchimes. i hate this rut that i’m in where i’m digging for dimes and quarters just to get a bit of sustenance. i hate this existence where we’re not even being just to be, we’re being to do some earning and we’re barely learning a damn thing. the little we do earn is nothing we want. i hate that you can’t love me in public for one reason or another. i hate that they’ll never except you as their son or their brother. i hate the fact that you are definitely the one, but how do i introduce you to my family? i hate it even more that i don’t care what you are. what matters is you and what you came here for - and i know that’s me, but i know that you know that just isn’t what they’ll see - and i fucking hate it, because you are the one thing i just don’t, the one thing i just can’t hate.
