Clouds of white fill up my chest when I see your face.
It’s an overflowing feeling of affection I can’t alleviate.
It won’t escape until I hold you,
Emotion purging from my heart into yours.
My open soul feels surprisingly full
Stuffed with love screaming to break through.
It pounds on the inside of my sternum and I wonder if
perhaps my body is too small a cage.
A belt tightens on my lungs like the old cliché.
We sing the words, but do they feel them like I do?
A ribbon binds my heart to my hands
But it seems more stuck to my sleeve.
“My heart is open to you” he says
And it’s true.
Embrace me, trust me, love me
We can be each other’s Only One.
The world can hate me for my love
But you could be my blanket
To wrap myself up in and sleep away the afternoon.
How the winter always reaches too far into March
And how the cold seemed to puncture my skin
I shivered at the thought and buried myself six feet below sea level
The words mean nothing after long
He lingered at my side
And drilled corkscrew shaped viruses into the back of my skull
Like a worm in an apple
I could tear him in half.
I stood in front of the twisted plant.
It seemed smaller, somehow. Different.
The dry scent of brown bark was faint in the breeze.
I closed my eyes.
My fingers found their way to the rough surface, sliding along the edges and cracks,
searching for a familiar face.
I remembered bright summers shaded
By sweet-smelling leaves, glowing.
I remembered climbing
Limb over limb
To the highest of branches, shaking.
I remembered…
I remembered.
I did not remember getting in the tree
But I found myself balancing, unwedging my sneaker where it once fit.
I found a branch shaped like me, and sat.
We were so warm…
We lounged, unafraid, slobbering our cones of ice cream.
Our little heads peeked through the foliage where birds kept their homes.
I remembered raising my arm and groping over my head for a sturdy branch,
And standing up.
We felt so big in our shoes.
“Couldn’t be more obvious”
She scribbled on a note
previously used for something better.
Everybody knows
and it’s all or nothing now
so head first is the way to go.
Apparently, though,
the way to go is too shallow,
at least before high tide
on a clear, uncluttered afternoon.
“Subtlety’s for suckers”
She thought
And who’da thunk a shy kid like she
would be so explicit?
Is it a phase?
Those teen-age drama days
when the sun’s rays
made her shade her eyes but
set her spectral hair ablaze?
“Exactly what was it I was saying again?”
She said in her head
as she drug the pen.
The words that twist round my tongue and then
bend, transcend your average blend
of syllables and rhyme. and I’m
not certain where I’m going with any of this
but I’m pretty sure I’ll get there
and obviously
you just couldn’t care
It’s 1 AM
You’ve gone away
I shouldn’t care
It’s too cliché
I’m waiting for you
Planning my next move
Why did you do it?
You broke a rule
Now I can’t help
But think about you
It was innocent
How did it turn into this?
Help me think things through
If you love me then I love you
Help me think things through
Put your mind away
I’ll toss mine in the gutter
Let’s speak of simple things
As if we were together
It’s out of hand
Prepare for crash-land
Do you deceive?
Et tu, my friend?
Don’t lead me on
You’ll meet your end
(I’m not so strong
But please do play along)
Help me think things through
If you love me then I love you
Help me think things through
And though you’re hers
And I am his
I hope no pain
Shall come of this
It only hurts
‘Cause I didn’t tell you first
And so I know
I’ll remember a time
When you cared about me
And I wished you were mine
Help me think things through
If you love me then I love you
Help me think things through
Reddish blue and déjà vu
Help me think things through
You gave me a reason to show up
I gave you a compliment
You gave me security
I gave you my homework
You gave me a reason to laugh
I gave you a suggestion
You gave me an onion
I gave you dry eyes
You gave me a reason to smile
I gave you a crude illustration
You gave me a look
I gave you less homework
You gave me the time of day
I gave you a story
You gave me a dollar
I gave you a piece of my heart
You gave me a reason to stay sane
I gave you my burden
You gave me some time off
I gave you a sideways glance
You give me a reason to wonder
I give you my nothing
If you’ll give me a moment to burn in Heaven,
I’ll give you a second chance.
Filed under: Bittersweet, Experimental, Good Writing, Non-Fiction, Reflection
broken treetops glow
in the orange morning light
broken and alone
In this box
Three by four
Alone with the sky and you
I hear the sounds
Of the hour
When I melt away in you
I hide away
From cats & dogs
From the blinding pitch of night
I lie down
And close my eyes
And drift into the light
You carry me
You carry me
To the white white birds above
You carry me
You set me free
When you’re all I’m thinking of
Your tranquil tone
Persistent beat
Your rapping at my soul
Rescue me
My one true love
You almost make me whole
I’m not here. You see that girl? She’s not me. Just flesh and bones and blood and tears, not a girl. No. Not really.
I’m not really here. I’m at home. I’m in my room and it’s Spring. It’s warm in here and I’m playing a record. I still have the bunkbed I don’t appreciate. I’m playing a record and laying on my bunkbed that I don’t appreciate, trying to read the lyrics to the song before “The Guns of Brixton,” but I’m too tired and the seduction of my fluffy white blanket is too great. It’s so soft and comfy and smells like childhood. The yellow incandescent light from the sun through the closed shade is warm and comforting. I close my eyes and succumb to the sounds of the Clash and my breath and I drift to sleep. I’m not here, I’m there. I’m warm and happy. So happy that I want to cry. I just want to cry, leak emotion. I think about where I am. Where I really am, not this place. I think until it hurts and then I think some more. Until I’m numb. If I think hard enough, as hard as I can, I might just slip away, slowly fading to nothing. . .
and i was supposed to have friends
growing up
in connecticut.
that’s what the storybooks
and the cartoons
and the made for tv disney movies
say.
kids have best friends
lifelong friends.
friendships that last the four years
that you’ve been in school.
known them your whole life
and not exaggerating.
kids build forts
in the woods down the street
to run away to
when your parents won’t let you stay out
past eight.
kids break stuff
and get in trouble together
and getting in trouble is ok
as long as you’re in it together.
kids have sleepovers
campouts
birthday parties.
i was alone
on weekends
tagging along with my sister and her friends.
“You can go if you bring your sister”
the frustration
and anger
and threat
in my sister’s eyes
after my mother turns her back.
i was alone
on summer break
playing nintendo
wishing for summer camp
for forts in the woods
for a birthday party at the beach
with someone my age
not my mom’s friends.
i was alone
at recess
always walking along
that same strip of curb
back and forth
to and fro
testing my balance.
once i fell
on purpose
and i scraped my knee.
and i was supposed to have friends
growing up
in bristol.
i was supposed to have friends
but i was too quiet
my socks days old
and my soul
too big
to bear.
