you know how it feels to drive at night? how the

houses seem to change to shadows,

and, devoid of their daylight vibrance, they shift

in unfamilar circles around you?

think of all the places you've been. all the miles you've walked

filled with the sun, feeling one way

for one person all of the time, everywhere. and then

in the blink of an eye-- or, rather, over months of

distance and what your friends call growth,

it all begins to look different. but why?

you are lost in a crowd; you do not look for him

you are listening to music;; you feel far from him

you are writing;;; but not about him, now

you feel

less than

whole

& then you choose to let the sun back in,

through a different window. or you

learn to conjure it within, all by yourself.

but you cannot shake the feeling that something has changed.

that without him, there is a piece of the puzzle

you lost along the way; a piece of yourself

eternally stuck between couch cushions

and impossible to find.

dear ex,

i know you don't care, but it hurts to call you that. it slits my throat, blood d r i p p i n g down my chin as the one -syllable word forces its arrival. i contort to the pain; i convulse to sight of blueberries at the store because they were your favorite. i was your favorite. what happened to that? fall-

ing

was never my thing but you made me trip over the cracks slip between the rocks

of your abusive behavior, blaming me for everything but you had me so captivated

by your mystical eyes your enigmatic love your complicated history that i tripped & slipped over it all and before i realized it i was fall-

ing

in love with someone who refused to kiss me because i didn't say yes to sex one night

in love with someone who forgot to love me because he was busy loving someone else

i fell in love with someone who treated me like i didn't matter even though he knew

that i already feel like i don't matter and all i wanted one day was a hug but i guess

you were too busy to love me i guess i wasn't worth your love i guess i'm not worth love

but i know that's not true because i know i deserve the sun&moon

you gave me the sun but forgot that it was burning me

you gave me the moon but forgot that it was blinding me

i don't know why i make excuses for you still like when i saw you kiss her

i just said "he must be drunk" as if that's a reason for your lips to be on anybody's

but mine i don't like being your ex because it reminds me that once i was your love

once i was your everything until you decided i wasn't worth it anymore

until you concluded i was only worth a sorry love of lies

i don't like being your ex because god,

i still miss you.

you burnt me and you blinded me and you hurt me. but i miss you because i hoped (hope) you would change maybe i would be worth that.

but clearly i was worth less than five-dollar blueberries because i still see you buy them in the store with a smile as if i wasn't the person who told you to try them.

loneliness sits in a chartreuse space, it

feigns happiness, its yellow-green brightness

weighs me down, I cannot hold it.

I rejoice in the dark red of alone

the nights to myself, oh the writing, the talking

out loud when no one can hear, but tonight

it folds in on itself, becomes a new color.

I cannot call it “mustard” or “dandelion”

for that implies it also has a shape, or a flavor,

when really it is nothing more than

years of empty heaviness and an impossibly ugly word:

chartreuse. I have begged for a comfortable gray,

but it does not hold comfort, holds only

all of the nights I wished that you were there

[with your sky blue shirt & worn black shoes] but

you weren’t. I’m afraid you never will be. not since

I’ve painted my house all the same shade of ambiguous yellow,

locked myself inside, told you to stop looking

for the chartreuse eyesore that sits just beyond

every neighborhood.

Though, it depends upon which

part, which section your lips

choose to caress first,

we dare not show the

entirety of ourselves at

once, we are a constantly

contradicting entity

Of the arms that hold

it is a sweeter taste,

one that exudes the

familial love between

blood and bond.

Of the legs it holds

a firmer, stout flavor

humming of the bark

that sheds from the

All-Mother's trees,

it is our love for this

world and beyond.

Of our head is a

sharp taste, akin to

our ability to think

and dream, we must

always be grateful for

our wit.

Though, that is not all

there is to a human soul,

each individual has its own

variation, a promise that

each of us are unique

and worthy of

existence.

While floating in this dreamless space

I discover that time is a multi-faceted beast

too fickle to hold the weight of my many dimensions

disappearing continuously, melting, solidifying,

creating an unrecognizable blur

I have promised to live unapologetically:

done my best to eliminate regrets

erased the most disgusting parts of my past

but in nights like these, what else is there to ponder over?

I want to put a solid image to this feeling,

to evaporate into the comforts of a metaphor.

but tonight there is nothing left but honesty; I have no poetry

left in me. tonight there is nothing but a singular fear:

that I will die without having ever lived;

that I will fall asleep without anything beautiful

to dream about.

the art of giving is 

in the silent 

unsuperfluous "k—"

hidden... 

that extra special 

attached

to the ever generous,

"now," like a kiss—

sound that seals

and makes acceptable

the entire gift,

in whole and in piece

addressed to the Who

that apprehends in thanks—

all there really is, to "no,"

with double jointed arms

that open, instead of fold...

like a partner, variable and

formulated as shown—

the too ambiguous other

character n...

in whose shoes to be candid

any figure can aptly stand

but then again...

there is only 

you—

and your mirror...

to receive in silence

"o!" the thing 

desired...

yet immaterial—

the unenunciated

secret tied in black

satin ribbon...

We need more things.

OK, no prob

Let's build this bot

Let's turn this knob

A rush of industrialism my friend!

We'll make things faster

We'll progress, in the end

We need more hands

OK, no sweat

Let the labor force study

Let them wallow in debt

A surge of willing workers abound my friend!

We'll make things smarter

We'll progress, in the end

We need more power

OK, on it

Let's mine this field

Let's frack this $!@#

A bedrock of tappable energy my friend!

We'll make things harder

We'll progress, in the end

We need more supply

OK, right on

Let's drain this lake

Let's chop the Amazon

A motherlode of natural materials my friend!

We'll make things cheaper

We'll progress, in the end

We need more time

Uh-oh, too late

There's no more earth

To resuscitate

A graveyard of plastics await us my friend!

We'll make too many things

To progress, in the end

Bonjour..

You're familiar on my way of greeting people, especially at school. So, yeah. Hi.

I won't be taking long, hopefully. But, I may be wrong.

I used to have dreams, with you in it. Almost every night when the tide's good, but when the tide's bad, you were somewhat always there. It's creepy, I know. But, I'm happy.

I used to told you my realistic dreams, especially those who gave me a chance to feel in love with someone; to feel like I belong.

I told you that all of them are vastly different people, but honestly, I was with you.

I don't expect anything from you, and I am not optimistic that you liked me back also. I was just.. I wanted to belong. You get what I mean, right?

I can only live in those dreams, and I thank you that you were the one.

I hope that you could find someone better than me. Out of all people, you were the one I never even hope and thought, that I could be with. Impossible, really.

Not because I don't like you or anything. In fact, I adore you so, so much. But, I can't. I won't let myself own you. Because, out of all the people in the world, I should be your last choice.

I hope you find someone you truly love and could give you as much happiness, as you have given me.

I truly hope that you can be happy. That's my wish.

Happy birthday.

Thank you.

When you grabbed my arm and spun me around, cupping my face with your broad hands, I found out what passion was really like. Fire coursed through my body, and I realized that with him, I felt cold.

When you begged me to come back to you after I drove away, I knew what it felt like to yearn for someone again. I raced like the devil was on my heels just to feel your body on mine.

When you took me into that meadow after we snuck out and made me feel that burning again, I knew that I needed more than he could ever give. Thank you for caressing my body in a way that made every hair on the back of my head stand at attention.

When you made an excuse to come see me alone while I was napping, I understood how powerful desire could be with the right person. We were drunk on lust and short on time, and it was the most thrilling experience I had had for years.

When you broke my heart by pulling away and losing interest, I knew that I could never go back home to a loveless and faithless relationship. It hurt more than you would ever know, but I came to appreciate it.

Thank you for awakening in me something that I didn't realize I was missing. Because of you, I was reunited with the one my heart truly wanted. You led me into the arms of a man who wants me like you wanted me, but who loves me like you couldn't. I am forever grateful.

Formerly Yours,

The girl you didn't want enough to live in a yellow beach house with

P.S. Thanks for telling me about the beach with the wild horses. I think that he and I will go there someday.