Survive this

Don’t worry so much over and about all the things you’d say to him

if only, if only you ever see his green eyes coming at you again some day

Because he’ll never hear them

all those words already dying on your lips

his ears may only be a few miles away (with the rest of what you used to love)

but his heart is with Atlantis

Let this one go

chock it up to childishness, fool-hearty innocence

anything at all

just know it can NEVER happen again

hold that knowledge closer than his memories and you’ll

survive this

there is no beginning, but there is an end

There’s a boy in a little blue boat, on an ocean, in a box, with a lock and the box with the lock, is on a little blue boat, with a boy, in an ocean, in a box, with a lock and that box with the lock and the ocean and the boy, is on a boat, with a boy in blue, in an ocean, in a box, with a lock…

and I’m trying to get to the middle, of the middle of the middle of the heart of the boy on the boat in the ocean in the box.  and that ocean is so vast and that boat is so small and that lock is so strong and most days it feels like my heart is at the bottom of the ocean with the boy in the boat with the box in the box with a lock.

speculatively speaking, we are fucked

Here’s what we’ve figured out so far:

You are: very adept at kissing me, pulling my hair, making me wet, using your tongue in various ways and insulting people. Less adept at taking my pants off, making me feel beautiful/sexy, holding my hair back, and human decency.

I am: very adept at getting you out of your pants, fixing your hair, slapping you, wrestling you, making you cum, and ignoring your harsh criticisms.  Less adept at getting you to stick around, controlling my emotions, keeping my mouth shut, and emotional distance.

Things I know about you: You are disturbingly close to your mother and your cat Mr.boo boo.  You are afraid of heights. You get angry a lot!  You drink too much. You have an over-inflated sense of self-worth stemming from low self-esteem in the past. You whine. You don’t like puzzles. Your favorite color is green. You’ve been with five women. Your favorite drink is a Gin and Tonic. You trust three people, your mother, your brother and your best friend. You will follow in your father’s footsteps. Your eyes are green. (though I still contend they are at least slightly hazel)

Things you know about me: My eyes are blue.

Guilty as charged

Don’t you come around here, opening up new wounds with old words.  Don’t you sit there and judge me for what I wanted.  I needed softness and a body to fall into. I needed eyes that wanted to look back. Don’t you judge me for that and tell me I’m no good. No one’s perfect. No one’s got it all figured out inside.  Maybe I set my morals aside with my beer and my taste in men.  But I got to feel like a real person for a few hours.  I had forgotten, didn’t you know?  What a horrible state you left me in.  And when the chance came along, when temptation leaned down and covered my mouth. I let it in. My god, I let it in.  because to be good is to be lonely.  Fuck having a conscience! I want long arduous make out sessions that leave me gasping for breath. I want fingers twisted in my hair and secrets whispered into my mouth.  I want to smile again. I had forgotten, didn’t you know? didn’t you know…tell me, still, didn’t you know?

making out under confederate flags

Stuck in a small frat dorm room with you

and four of your “brahs”

and I’m thinking Clan Rallies

have similar attendees

so I shut my eyes and remember

heads and faces so close

that our eyelashes knit together

your tongue is enormous and wet inside

my mouth

how did any tongue ever get so big

I long to scratch my face

along the dark hairs

on your chin

I know the tingling burn will not abate for hours

remember when you put your hand

on top of my hand

and pressed it to your neck

I could feel your heart beat all over my body

so I close my eyes

and press myself close to you

and let this be enough

for the sacrifice I make

for the company you keep

Bad Omen?

I’ve already decided how I’m

going to break up with you

already, in my head

I’ve decided you will be moderately

upset,

you will not want me to go

you might cry a little,

(no, no you won’t cry, but you might punch something)

and I’ll apologize and maybe cry

and explain that I’m just too fucked up

you’ll grab my shoulders

I’ll let you, because I don’t mind

the pain

and I even deserve it

It will be in the bedroom of

your frat house

there will be an animal house

poster on the wall

I will stare at it while you scream

at me

You will scream

“It’s not YOU! This is bullshit!!”

you will keep repeating it

like a mantra

“this is bullshit, this is bullshit, this is bullshit, this

is

bullshit…”

you will sit on your bed

head in your hands

I will stand over you

like the executioner

and I will sentence you to the

pain you don’t deserve

then I will run my hand

through your hair

and I will

leave

this is how it will be,

in my mind

we haven’t even gone on our

first date yet,

is this going to jinx it?

I’ve got ideas

I’ve got ideas for things that would be romantic and perfect for us,

the us of a year ago

when we were still wholly in love

luxuriating in the idea of us and our potential

I want to tell you my ideas

to see if they would still work

in a world that doesn’t have the possibility of us

but I feel foolish

and fragile and… and

not wholly able or willing to admit that

I still think of you more than I should

that no matter what I’ve said laughing at you

and your concern

I still want to hold your hand

I still want to see the world grow beautiful with you

your voice

Hearing your voice again

I wasn’t prepared

I don’t want to say I fell

…again…

it wasn’t a fall

to fall would be so easy

but I slipped and stumbled

over your words

and your chords

and I’m half holding myself up

with your laugh

knock me out

or pull me in

just don’t go

not yet

not while I’m still

unsure

An Accident

It was an accident

a slip

of the tongue

the hand

the lip

and now I’m here again

Here

where

I started this fall

don’t you sit there

like you never loved me

like I never let you see

Me

myself

and everything connected

I never wanted this

LIAR, tell the truth

say it

I’ve never

not wanted to be yours

and time has not changed that

I thought I’d beat it out of me

that sickness

the pain

but you’re here to prove

you won’t be forgotten

stubborn like a bloodstain

help me cleanse this out

I can’t stop

if you open the door

I’ll walk through it

if you say drink it, I will

eat it, I’ll chew

if you say lie down and die

for the love you keep inside

I’ll go willing

into the ground

leave me then

let me rot

the earth will give me dignity and peace

last chance that you don’t want

He looked like salvation. She thought. Like the last bit of green life in winter. Sitting there in the murky aired bar, he was her last chance. She was a picture of desperation. Overweight and under appreciated. She shifted awkwardly in the booth next to him. Not knowing where to put her feet under the table, or how to arrange her legs. She leaned back crossing her ample arms over her not so ample chest. Deciding this probably looked too closed off she leaned forward casually, letting her chin come to rest on the palm of one hand and the other stretch out across the table invitingly. Her outstretched fingers, just inches from his. And she waited. Waited for him to wake up from his beer drowned thoughts and realize how close they were. Waited for him to notice their mutual friend had excused herself from the booth just minutes before. Waited for him to move his hand closer. Closer. Closer. Until the tiny hairs on his wrist brushed seductively against hers. Until all he could think about was lifting a finger and stroking it down the soft flesh of her thumb. She sat staring at their hands, so close. And in her head she was screaming. “Take my hand, take it and save me. I’m so lonely, please.” But the seconds and minutes passed with a painful, empty slowness. Their friend returned with a smile and fresh beers and the moment was gone. She reluctantly, but decisively pulled her hand away from the table and allowed it to rest along the line of her neck. Turning away from the bar she stared out the window at a couple walking away into the neon darkness of downtown and she felt herself grow a little more hollow. How many last chances does a girl get, she wondered. Before she’s all used up, not even a shell remaining.