it's waking up at 4 in the afternoon
making pasta for breakfast,
neglecting the dishes + laundry
and realizing that's okay.

it's looking in the mirror and,
instead of feeling detached
& looking away, locking eyes with the
parallel representation & feeling grounded.

it's swallowing back that metallic taste,
past the lump in your throat,
blinking away salty beads,
putting on some lipstick and holding your head high.

it's that feeling when a popsicle melts
all over you & gets you terribly sticky,
remembering more carefree times that entailed
scraped knees and many a sticky snack.

it's being able to miss someone
but not quite long for them.
it's remembering the good moments
instead of letting the ugly drown them out.

just today I found out that just yesterday
a girl I briefly knew died from leukemia.
not even 18 this girl that I spoke to once
possibly twice
has struck me in my core.
she has broken my month-long drought of tears.
she has united 500+ people that generally tolerate each other.
she has shown us at such a young age true bravery.
she has lived while dying.
she has studied, not knowing if there was time to graduate.
she has humbled me entirely.
(my problems that before seemed so earth shattering now seem so dimly irrelevant.)
she has reminded me to pray, and to pray about someone other than myself.
all I have to say is
**** cancer.

every night
i lay on my side
as miniscule tears
leak out the corner of my eye
stinging the skin
they seep down.
it's 3:51 am
and I'm realizing that
my body
is correlating
itself with
your vacant heartbeats.
i think of you
and all that you promised
and wonder if
these promises
remain,
and my body reacts.
i begin to overheat
and get worked up;
my veins jump and
my fingers twitch.
i distract myself
long enough to cool myself down
(to a more appropriate for the mood
frigid temperature)
but just as fast as
a rubber band
snaps back into shape,
you creep back
over the threshold
of my bruised thoughts,
and i begin to heat up
once more
thinking of how
the sun shines out of your ***
and that to me
the stars are
in your eyes.

prying my eyes open with some god forsaken force unknown to me
i blindly shove another sour patch kid in my mouth
choking down the harsh artificial sugars
choking back thoughts of you
rolling my eyes back into my head as i think
everything happens in good time
right?
neglected body hair and dry heat begin to scratch at my legs
it's an ungodly hour of the night.../morning
technicalities
a bead of sweat rolls down my forehead and i think
you'll come around
as i lay awake dreaming of the last subject of my writings
and pretend the excruciating ending
is a mystery to me

i get this sort of sickly feeling
every time july comes around
because with every summer day
that i realize that you’re
not here
comes the kind of sting that you feel
when you’re shaving your legs
and the blade nicks the thin layer of skin
on the back of your achille’s tendon.
you should be at my side
volunteering to herd the children
like cattle into the mess hall,
because you’re allergic to peanuts
and because i looked pretty.
you should be sitting across the
table from me at breakfast
not directly
diagonally; one seat to the right;
giving me a knowing smile every time you catch my eye.
you should be jokingly making fun of my
unshaved thighs
when really you don’t expect me to change them at all.
you should still be working with me
in the kitchen
doing trash rounds
in the garden, weeding in the blazing sun
while all of my insecurities drip down my skin
with the sweat beads that roll and race each other.
you should be trying to hold the camera steady
as your shoulders bounce lightly from your laughter,
deep chuckles and the occasional squeak due to a
voice crack
as i pick up chickens and sing to them,
and smile at the camera.
you should be apologizing to me
for your ex-girlfriend calling my phone
and requesting you,
even though it’s not your fault.
you should still be nestled against me,
your sad, fragile head resting in my lap,
as you ask me why you deserve what she does
and i tell you that you don’t
and gently rock your worries away.
you should be wrapping your arms around me,
not as a goodbye,
not as a hello,
not even as an i’ve missed you,
or an i’m sorry,
not as a martyr
or a lover,
but as the best friend you used to be.

july 16 2011
the air stuck to my skin,
clinging for life,
grasping for adhesion.
the cool, night air making minuscule mountains rise all across my arms.
we were far from alone,
yet all i could possibly be aware of was you.
feeling my head roll back onto the tweed, orange sofa, i looked up through the roof windows of the teepee.
i began to count and trace the stars,
only to steady my rapid heartbeat and abrupt breathing.
the breeze picks up and suddenly penetrates deep into my core,
sending out waves of shudders throughout my entire body.
shaking like a dandelion in a windstorm, you invite me closer and closer,
you can see the look of hesitation in my eye,
you understand it;
you feel it too.
ignoring your instincts, you envelop my frigid torso in your warm, big arms.
finally settling in, the others begin to disperse,
one by one,
until only we remained.
the beauty of this mid-july night was apparent,
and, all tucked away,
we laid there for hours
listening
intently
to the bullfrogs, to the crickets,
to the sound of the waves from the small lake kissing the shore, to the cool breeze mingling with the sweet warm summer air.
the morning crept along and we pulled each other
in and out
of the haze we created.
in the morning, it was cold again,
but i got only your jacket and a hushed
"don't tell".