today i sat on the roof with the hottest boy in my class as he smoked his hand rolled cigarette, & we talked about how you would be proud.
& when i told you, you said you always regretted not doing that.
someday kid i will act without caring whether you would approve.
(but not quite yet.)
i want to ask you if youre happy now that youve gone back, away from this broken city. i know you would say at least its better than home. i want to ask you what it would take to make you happy.
but you always hate when i ask you that. because its one question you dont know the answer to, & one you cant look up in an encyclopedia when i ask.
you have to use your heart for this one.
he doesnt return my calls. when i walk over, he leaves me with his friends. we havent talked in three weeks. he was going to talk to me when adrienne yelled to him for a ride. he said "see you tomorrow?" "yea." & he left. i didnt see him tomorrow.
i dont know where he decided to go to college, i dont know the whole thing with his siblings different last names, i dont know any of the answers to the questions i wrote in a note & slipped inside the case of the mix cd i gave him, the one he said he liked.
i dont know who hes taking to prom. i would rather not find out when i see him there & try--try--to look happy. try not to spend the whole night wishing i was prettier, smarter, funnier, more talented. wishing i was everything, anything he could want.
but mostly wishing i didnt feel that way at all.
i want to get drunk with you & all your friends so when you lean back on the couch & fall asleep, i can write across your forehead:
i love your sorry ass.
. There is an idea I have about the world.
. This idea states that misery is people not dealing with their issues.
. This idea means people feel deeply (I feel deeply), feel immensely (I feel immensely), feel powerfully (I feel powerfully), because of all the wrong, all of the injustice served to them (served to me).
. This means, that I feel this way because I am not forgiving, I am not accepting what the world has given me, and being happy with it. I am looking over to the other side of the fence, and saying that the grass over there, why, it... it MUST be greener.
. And it may be. There is no denial to what has happened in my life, and to what happens in other people's lives, but it is their place to learn and experience what they learn and experience, and my place to be who I am. And my place to learn what I learn. And also my place to experience what I experience.
. It could be said that it is, in fact, God Given. I have been divinely selected to do what I do, and be who I am.
. If it is divinely given, then why should I be miserable over it? God may be misery as much as Joy, but surely only because these are perceptions of what God is, and... so... Why would I not preceive the Joy in everything, unless I was looking for something other than Joy?
. Why would I look for something other than Joy? What would the purpose be?
i knew you didnt mean it & i told you myself that you didnt
know just what you were talking about.
if you find the truth condescending well then im sorry dear but
youll only find it impending if you keep running away.
i just thought that maybe we could make things a little brighter
for each other but clearly you disagree.
i know now that we will never understand each other even if its being
screamed out loud in our ears. i said i would wait forever
& i said i hoped it mattered but im sure by now you know that
i changed my mind. & isnt it too bad, isnt it so sad
that we will never change? we will never change.
(at least, i know you will never change.)
its the smoothness of your hands, the cadence of your voice; its the scent of your clothes, the amber flecks in your eyes.
its the way you feel in my arms, its the way i feel in yours; its the feeling of your fingers wrapped around my waist.
its the way your arm is too long for mine only it isnt at all. its the way i could hold you against me for hours (and did).
its the things you speak softly into my ear, then lean your face next to mine waiting for an answer.
its the fact that our friends were there yet i pretty much kept forgetting. its the way neither of us wanted to be the first to move...
that makes me think that maybe you mean it.
he said "i feel like youre really...intense...tonight"
i said "the ripping inside my ribs feels pretty damn intense."
he said "so...what are you looking for right now? are you honestly attempting to find a way to end the ripping? are you looking to complain to others and get shit off your chest? are you just wanting to sit and let the ripping continue and be kinda paralyzed?"
i said "i always do the last one. i tried the first. he made it worse. now i just want to rip his fucking chest apart, so he can see how real emotions feel."
& right now id like to rip your goddam chest apart, love. i really would.
all these paths i traverse are littered with your footsteps
every turnover of my shoes reverberates your sure stride
monarchs flitting in my wake like tangerine dreams
sweat from your brow fertilizes the dense weeds
every tone of your laughter echoes off the leaves
like a frightened deer i run, frantically, clumsy in my grace
nowhere here can i escape your memory
the sun blinds me like the glimmer off your music
while these eloquent words flow through my mind as if
someone else were speaking them
they were much more articulate before i tried to remember them
yet i keep them firing hoping the burn in my heart
will overpower the searing in my calves
i mimic the soft rigidity of your form so as to improve myself
but i can walk in your footsteps no longer
i made a picture. bold bright, the opposite of our misty drive back home but if he saw it...his silhouette against the window. funny if you look at that little rectangular piece of paper, you wouldnt know how close i was to him. & although ive decided its good for both our sakes that hes gone i still...would like if i could have that chat he promised me. just so i could ask him about that car ride. why he did it. why he did everything. i know he said he didnt notice, but he always says that the first time around. maybe thats why he made sure i couldnt get to that second one. maybe thats why he keeps popping up on my computer screen, saying hey & sorry i havent responded to your e-mail. ive been stressed out & homesick. it would take him 5 minutes. what is it hes not saying.
made me smile last night. as soon as i took my away message down. maybe 10 seconds, his was up. oh what to do on a saturday night. almost sent, talk to me. but i didnt. & he took it down. went away. as if he suddenly remembered he had plans.
but i dont really believe that. like i didnt really believe he meant nothing by lying down next to me. i put it all in the pictures. 3 of them. the first was best, second alright. i tried too hard. to make them vivid, so realistic but then i remembered it was a dream. one of those weekends. where nobody talks about it afterward for fear it was only in our minds. we just smile about it.
& in my stupid pictures maybe its obvious. i miss my someone to smile with.
