I have always been a fan of love stories. Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love. Girl lives happily ever after with boy. The end.

There’s one moment that made me think that I’m going to have my Love story.

I was going through a bad time in my life and needed someone to talk too. We met up at the store and after walking around talking and talking in the parking lo, he invited me over to hangout. We’d never hungout before and I was so excited.

We sat in his house and talked for what felt like hours. He let me rant and cry and offered advice.

Unforunately it came time for me to go home. As I was getting ready to leave I saw the dock that was behind his house. I asked if we could go out there and see the water. It was 4 am by this point. He said yes and gave me his hoodie so I would be warm. Then he got a blanket and we walked out to the end of the dock.

He put the blanket down on the table and we laid there looking at the stars and tking about everything and nothing at all. He didn‘t kiss me or “make a move” and even though part of me was dying for him too, I was glad he didn‘t. The wishing for a kiss helped make it unforgettable.

As I laid in his arms that night I couldn’t help but think that this is what Nicholas Sparks was writing about. The Perfect Moment. Where nothing feels like it could go wrong.

Even though the moment ended and we went on to end things, I’ll never forget that night. He gave me my Notebook Mmoment.

I’m at a loss as to what to do.

This game plays towards no end.

Intentions are clear, from both of us.

Hurtful messages we subtly send.

You post. I post. With impure aim.

Just trying to keep this going.

What once was love and tender thoughts,

Is shrouded in disdain.

I force myself to forget your face,

For a moment here and there.

But then you come across my screen,

And I do nothing but sit and stare.

So play your move and post your best.

I’ll follow and do the same.

But don’t forget,

that it’s me you’re playing,

And I’m better at this game.

#poetry #poem #poet #lesbian #lgbt #writer

Sometimes I think I've lived too long.

that humans should be more like butterflies-

living in full splendor for a month.

death is what gives life meaning-

to know that your days are numbered-

that there is no time to waste.

generations flying by in the years.

there would be no mass deaths-

no one would waste their limited time on making a gun just to get

what would be meaningless money.

things would be easier-

The earth would still belong to its creatures.

and we would make the most of our numbered days.

I really don't feel like getting up.

I really should get up. It's 6:00 am.

But the bed is so warm...

I'm going to be late!

Nah...you have time to sleep in just a little bit...

.

.

.

HOLY CRAP IT'S 6:55!

So what! Just I just won't go today. I'll call in sick...

But I have that important presentation today...

But I didn't sleep that well last night- maybe I could sleep a bit longer and make up the presentation later...

No. I'm too busy. I have to get up. I'm going to turn on the lights...

AH! NOPE NOPE NOPE! Lights off feels so much nicer...

Ugh! But I have to get up!

Is it truly worth the sacrifice I'd be making on behalf of my health? I'll probably pass out if I go out like this...

But think of the consequences...

Think of the consequences if I force myself awake when I clearly need more sleep...

Right...I'll just sleep in today...

I'll just resume my comfortable sleeping position under my toasty blanket...

ignore all my responsibilities...

annnnd....

UGH. I have to pee.

!#$@%$^%&*^*!@#$%

When you’re older,

You will fall in love,

Is all they ever said,

But no one ever prepared me,

Of such heartache up ahead,

No one told people cheat,

Or lie right to your face,

I guess this is what they meant,

About learning the hard way,

But I’ve yet to meet a soul,

Who has shown me what it’s all about,

So where’s this love they spoke of,

For now all I do is doubt.

I sat, looking around me with blank, empty eyes. My mind a jamble of wires, all electrocuting me, frying my head. But i could feel a stillness inside me. Not that of an unmoving petal on a sunny day but the stillness of a body that ceased to function, a corpse if you will. It was eating at my core, at my edges, and my cries of agony were so muffled that even I struggled to hear them. I got up. Maybe I stumbled, I'm not quite sure. I think I didn't mind that either.

(this is still unfinished but i'd like to hear some opinions)

#numbness #tired

When I was a kid I OD'd on jellybeans. The town Easter egg hunt was hyped up on brightly colored fliers tacked to lamp posts, taped to corner store windows. When the day came, cool and promising, all the kids gathered on the rec center steps. I remember the butterflies and little else.

The other competitors didn't unnerve me- I'd sized up my opponents and the odds were in my favor. The limitless potential of victory is what sent my stomach tumbling, my fingers dancing. I wasn't considering the prize- had I even known what it was? I was imagining the utter joy of being the best, of giving it my everything, being so completely consumed by the thought of winning that I could feel victory before my sneakers even hit the grass.

I don't remember the exact egg count, but I can tell you that victory tastes almost as sweet as candy. Butterflies gone, I dove sticky hands first into my prize- a ceramic bunny full of every color jellybean. With the recklessness of a child, I threw caution to the wind and ate every last bit of candy that afternoon. When the bunny was empty, the joy of winning was replaced by the bitter realization that the thing I wanted most was now making me sick.

The most poignant memory from that day isn't the victory. I can't tell you how many kids were in the Easter egg hunt or if they announced my name for all to cheer. I can't even tell you if I collected my eggs in a basket. What I remember is the sickly sweet smell of sugar and the scratching of my fingernail on ceramic. How my tongue was stained an ugly green color. My dad telling me to 'use my head next time!' How I threw up every single one of those jellybeans until I never wanted to see one again.

Love. Hmmm.

Unexchangeable.

Undeservable.

Indescribable.

Always there.

Here.

Now.

Forever and a day more.

Willing.

Knowing.

Understanding.

Hoping.

Feeling.

Whatever the cost.

Always.

That's Love.