take a gift, friend,
these violets, plucked
from your mother's
scatter your memories,
purple petals, borrowed
from the fields behind
the train tracks
breathe the air again,
amethyst heirlooms, stolen
from heaven's front
take a gift, friend,
these violets, so that
you may remember
- I am by your side forever -
the train tracks,
I will not leave you behind
Ripped jeans and a sweatshirt,
tapping the cap of the pen,
she sits, stare and paper
vacant, and you wonder what’s
behind her eyes, what plans
or dreams, concentration or
boredom she channels into
the incessant flick of her
pen, purple, as it happens—and
upright now, in rapid, pressed
motion across the page with
ink flowing thick as she
leans over creation itself and
I didn't ask you to call me -
but you did. Every night. At any hour - 1 am. 2 am. 3 am. You had no boundaries.
When I was with friends - at sleepovers - on trips - doing homework - sound asleep - you expected that I was available.
And, foolishly, I made myself available.
We learned to drive. Your car was parked in front of my house more and more. No matter who was over, you were there too, with your kidding insults, eager to make me doubt myself. And our phone calls lengthened. Your closing line became "I love you."
Did you notice that I didn't say it back?
I didn't know what you meant. You confused me, daily. "I can't risk losing you by dating you." You said it more than once, as you dug into more and more depth of who I was, asking for more and more of my trust, making yourself continually present (whether audibly or visually) in my world. These words were the most incomprehensible paradox. You were dating me, but without a label! Without that label, you were free to date date others, but my heart was yours.
Your mom saw it. She warned, "don't trust" - I didn't listen. Instead, I longed.
Idiotically, I ignored the wisdom of friends and family and clung to your words as a promise for the future - "I love you."
I shrugged off the pursuits of new men who liked me, who wanted to know me, as I waited for you. And waited, even when I knew I shouldn't wait. I was a simpleton. A ninny. A chump.
I tried to escape you. I asked someone else to prom, only to find you buried under a heap of red and black balloons, asking me to be your date. Like a dunce, I uninvited him and went with you . . . unsurprised when you left that night with another girl's number. But I was still yours.
I put over 1600 miles between us with my college choice. You still called - I couldn't escape your audible presence. I ran further, trying to quiet you, so I could hear my own thoughts and discover my own dreams. This time, nearly 6,000 miles and a seven hour time difference. And you still called, for three years. While I had the wisdom to flee, I didn't have the desire to click decline. So, just as i'd opened the door to my house, and my heart, I clicked "accept." I had so much hope; you fed that hope, and I believed you. I'm a dope.
Ten years later, you told me you'd met her, that you were proposing. I listened, feeling the tsunami-like tides of emotions, frustrations, confusions. Fueled by passion, I did it:
"Do not call me, ever again." "Will you tell me when I'm ready?" "I won't be." Click.
I meant those words. Other than a wedding invitation, I never heard from you again.
Did you notice that in the end, you lost me?
Almost ten years later, trust has regrown. I changed my name. I'm having his child. It took all that time to heal.
Words? Where are the Words?
The cursor blinks mockingly. I have so much to say yet the page remains blank.
It's weird when you can see your own breath. No, it is not my first venture. This coat isn't heavy enough, to stave the irritating signs of a stagnant winter. That damn rat didn't show up! He had one job! Instead, with heavy socks and boots, to a bus stop, I will walk. Milk and bread and something with cheese. Wait, not cheese, can't afford the luxuries. Car wouldn't start because of this darn weather. Screw that song about loved songs and sweaters.
I accepted a date from a man
He seemed ok
And an above average face
We went out
I had my doubts
And the I heard
Not about him
Actually, about me
Don't talk to her
Just too friendly
Found out who she was
So I walked up
Extended my hand
She seemed surprised
Extended hand, I smiled wide
I just wanted to introduce myself
I heard me say
Because you seem to know a lot about me
But I don't even know your full name
Kill them with kindness
In a world who breeds this violence
Rumors flow as grain in a mill
But if they were about you...
Wouldnt you mind it?
my fingernails hook underneath your rib cage as shower curtains rain onto tile floors
ear ringing silence overtakes in between the breaths that threaten to break us
chests that ache with overwhelming emptiness spew vomit into my lungs
and your words, ever so hurtful, repeat themselves when my brain gives up
White, Green, or Black?
Fill, ignite, await the whistle -
Select smile-making mugs, foreign flavors,
Pour, steep -
all i ever wanted to do was breathe
Homicide, She Scribbled
What are you talking about? Of course we had to kill him. How else was he gonna be a ghostwriter?