i am

broken,

begging for you to come near

(please come here).

i am

yearning,

yelling at you to stop ignoring me

(i want to hold you all night).

i am

desperate,

demanding that this will never end

(i don't want it to end...)

i am

lost,

loving you so endlessly

(i lose myself in your eyes)

and i am

full,

forgetting that anything else exists

(you are all that matters).

i am

drowning gasping

in

flashing

lights

and

candle-lit

nights

of

darting pulsing feverish passion

that

pulls

forcefully

on

the

nerves

of my mind

and

gently

tugs

on the strings of my heart

sending me

twirling into dizzy spells

of

imperfection

(gosh, does it feel good to be in love again)

I'm a blind idiot that can’t be dragged down no matter how many things go wrong or how many times it becomes obvious that they. don’t. like. me. back. because I’m on cloud 9 and on the rare occasions I get there, it’s nearly impossible for someone to get me down to Earth and back to reality.

Niagara Falls

in winter;

frozen

heart hangs

in suspense.

Clinging to

the former,

water pours out

in past tense.

Rain-kissed

in golden hours;

desert dust

that’s

diamond-drenched.

Sugar

in the raw,

turns sour sweet

like fruit,

condensed.

Sea and shoreline

coexist;

joy lapped

by sorrow’s tides

and clouds

(we all are but a mist)

of all the tears

love cried.

She’s that girl who sits

in the coffee shop

and talks to the man

she loves

like the fool

she is

only to find out

he’s breaking up

with her

like she knew

he would

She goes home and

cries

and asks herself

why

but it was

her the whole

time

like she knew it would be

rinse, and repeat

and there are others

for whom

she’ll do it all

again

and

again

and

again

and again

My heart pounds,

My palms shake,

My mind races.

Every cliché schoolgirl response.

My walls were built

With solid stone

And years of work.

But one look from you and they crumble.

My cheeks flush

When you smile

And I smile back.

But then I remember the last time.

He smiled at me

Like you do now

But it wasn’t long

Before that turned into gnashing of teeth

His arms comforted

Like yours do now

But it wasn’t long

Before he used them to imprison me

His hands were soft

Like yours are now

But it wasn’t long

Before they left me bruised and broken

You scare me

Because I want

To love you

But love terrifies me.

I left him for somebody else

I don’t regret

Our relation was just pain

but is no more

I try to forget

But here he is, again

Standing at my door

Why don’t you leave me alone?

Why don’t you go where you belong?

I have already tried you enough

I don’t wanna be your drug

I can see the pain

in your eyes

maybe it’s yours

maybe it’s mine

And he say

'Listen,

It’s not your pain, its mine

And I know MY pain pains you more

But you are my only drug

And I am your only cure

You can break me

use me

tamper me

reuse me

I won’t complain

Cause I belong with you

I belong with this pain’

My parents subjected me to Bambi when I was a child.

While there was much trauma to be had in this supposed family film, the most traumatizing scene for me was not the matricide of the prince of the forest, but the horrors described by a friendly old owl on the condition of being “twitterpainted.”

Granted this was meant to be humorous, but the scenes following most definitely were not as poor Bambi and his friends were all inevitably zombified by the end of the film.

Growing up I watched many of my friends fall victim to this disease and realized early on that friend owl was right - losing your head was simply not worth it. Hence I quickly put up all my defenses and bunkered down into curmudgeonhood at the tender but intelligent age of twelve.

Eventually they got me on pity. I was set up on Valentine’s Day a decade later by coworkers and thus ended my single streak. Yet I eventually ran from that and other potential relationships, as the seriousness of the situation kicked in. Did I really want to tie myself up in something so permanent? Lose sight of my own life?

One New Year’s I found myself the inadvertant victim of what I’ve since learned is called “car therapy”; people have discovered its best to talk about uncomfortable subjects with someone while driving in a car. The idea is that within the confines of a moving vehicle it’s easier to force folks to talk things out - mainly because they can’t escape, but also because the soothing motion of the vehicle and having a destination drives home the idea that by talking it out you’re moving forward. Frankly, reading the description to myself out loud, I wonder if Americans aren’t friggin’ twitterpainted idiots when it comes to their cars....

Anyway - back to this late night January drive: the weather was awful, with pouring buckets of rain (never thunder, though, blasted California) and my current paramour drove us northwards towards the home of friends far away to visit on our holiday weekend off. I hadn’t exactly relished the idea of spending my New Year’s Eve stuck in a car, but since I didn’t have to drive I relented. Yet no one had told me that the driver expected me to keep them awake the entire drive with cheery conversation.

Normally that’s not a problem for me, as typically I’m babbling about whatever nerdy topic I’m enamored with at the time. I am not prepared for the sudden -

“So, what are your goals for the next five years?”

“Do you see yourself getting a house?”

“How about kids?”

“Retirement?”

For reference this particular relationship was about three months in; we’d met around Halloween, and were now spending all the holidays together like good lonely people do. If there is a time frame for when to talk about these issues perhaps three months isn’t too early, really; but for me, pretty sure any time was too early given I seriously considered how hard I would hit the pavement driving 55 miles on wet road.

The truly sad thing was...I had no answers to these questions. I hadn’t thought about what I wanted to do in five years. I’d never considered buying a house - gosh, that was a pipe dream in this state - and kids? Come on! If you can’t even afford a house what’s the point of filling it with little debt-mongers? At this point in my life I wasn’t even sure I’d ever afford to retire, let along support other mouths to feed.

Needless to say my lack of responses / optimism did not go over well. We argued, mostly about the necessity of having something to live for - an argument I fought mostly out of pride, not any sort of principle. I figured this might be our last holiday trip together and wondered if it was too late to find a drinking buddy for St. Patrick’s Day.

Ten years later that person still drives me crazy - in rainy weather or otherwise. I may not have had life goals, but apparently that didn’t mean losing my seat in the car it just meant being a passenger on someone else’s ride until I figured it out.

Being “twitterpainted” hasn’t zombified me; rather it’s injected life into the mindless living corpse I’d been before.

Should we ever hit the kiddos mark we are never watching Bambi.

(and you thought Disney princesses ruined romantic relationships - ha)