I'm standing on a cliff by the ocean,
except this is a field next to the graveyard
where I'm realizing now that not all waves
are made by the sea.
I sink myself beneath the wind
in this tall grass that's ebbing and flowing
to see if it might help me think of everything
that made me love you.
but I can't drown in these kinds of waves,
just like I can't remember a love
made out of pieces of something.
high ocean cliffs and fields next to cemeteries
are not the same,
and I'm starting to see that maybe I didn't
love you based on different parts
of what I thought you were.
because as slowly as I understood that
waves don't exist in just one place,
I'm thinking it's possible that I just loved you
in more than a single way.
a.d.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
you make everything so ******* complicated.
you make me want to stab myself
in good ways and bad ways;
if there's even a difference.
I don't know what you want from me.
I think you don't want anything,
but then I think you want things
that I can't give you.
I've done enough of thinking
that I mean something to people,
because that's never the case.
I was mad at you,
but then I was mad at myself
for even caring what you thought of me.
I've done enough of caring about
things that I don't understand
so I've been trying to understand you,
but you make everything so
******* complicated.
a.d.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
so I might be ashamed to admit that
I've been reading up on you,
and I know how sad you are
because you talk about it a lot.
and I know how you try to play it off,
but really you just feel bad about things
that may or may not be your fault.
I wish I could be the person to tell you the things
that you believed in when she said them to you.
but I would actually mean it.
I get that you want to be hurt because
it's the only thing that you know,
but I could never be that for you.
at least not on purpose.
and maybe with every interaction to come
good or bad,
you would figure out some things about me
that probably wouldn't interest you enough
to look into what kind of person I am.
that's why I can't be any of the things that you want.
I'm not someone else that you know.
you don't even know me at all.
I guess someday I might have the courage
to say things to your face,
even if you were going to judge me.
but you seem pretty open minded.
I wonder if I could fit inside your thoughts
like the cigarette between your lips,
and I could be your nicotine for a little while.
but maybe I'm just saying these things because
I want you to want me,
even though you don't know me.
and I know you don't like heavy words
said without real meaning,
but I mean it when I say that
I may not be what you want
but I will try to be whatever you need,
even though you don't even know
my name.
a.d.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
one day I found myself hanging
from the edge of a grandfather clock
with nothing but time on my hands.
and when you've got that much time
you really start to think.
I wondered if memories attached themselves
to old things,
because they're part of the past.
and if we threw those old things out,
we would probably forget
most of the memories that went with them.
then I realized that people are old things.
we were new once,
when nobody had memories of us,
and we didn't quite know
the concept of time.
but as we cling to the grandfather clock
and the hands fall down,
we grow older with each toll of the
midnight bell.
and when people are tired of their old things
they want new ones.
new things that haven't been
taught the hours and don't
know what it's like to hold on to
the time they've been given,
and I think that's the appeal we get
with throwing out old things.
we get to break the new things in
and get a chance to make
memories without making
mistakes that can't be erased until
they're ready to be thrown out.
I think I'm hanging on the edge of this
grandfather clock
because its hands are tied to my own
with the last bit of connections
I have with the old people in my life.
and I'm waiting for everyone to sever
their ties with me
so I can make the decision to fall out
and be forgotten with other old things
or to grab onto the strands of
new things that will replace me
with newer things.
maybe I'm just going crazy because
I've had a lot of time on my hands.
a.d.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:49 AM UTC
the greatest advice
I've ever been given
was to try everything
at least once,
so I could form my
own opinion.
I tried counting
the constellations,
and sleeping
under the moon.
I can still remember
how much I loved
the pirouettes
of the fireflies.
I tried running
away from lions,
and stealing
wishes from the sea,
I remember
how I woke up
screaming.
maybe that advice
wasn't as great
as I made it
out to be.
because I tried
falling in love,
and I can tell you
right now,
that I'm still trying
to figure out
how I feel about that.
a.d.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
I've never understood benches in graveyards.
we sit on them and grieve over a lost life
that we can no longer see.
I wonder if the dead sit by us
and grieve over the life that we
are wasting as we sit next to them.
maybe the benches are for the dead.
maybe it's so they can sit beside us
and comfort us when we cry out their name.
I wonder if they sit there and think,
"why me? why am I here and not there?"
maybe the benches are for the living.
maybe it's so they can sit down when
their bodies are too weak to stand.
perhaps it's because it makes them
feel closer to their loved
one's permanent home in the earth.
I wonder if they sit there and think,
"why me? why am I here and not there?"
I've never understood benches in graveyards.
maybe we sit there next to ghosts
with common interests
and no way to comfort each other.
maybe the benches are there so
the living and the dead can
ask the same questions
and wonder the same things
and from worlds apart
not feel so alone.
a.d.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
He came to me one night
when I was cold and alone,
I was halfway through with it,
an inch from the bone.
He whispered so gently
as he laid me down on the bed,
"what aspect of life
put these thoughts in your head?"
"I don't breathe like I used to,"
I told him, as his image blurred,
"I ask for their help
but they don't say a word."
His vice like fingers
clamped onto my wrist,
"Not on this night, child.
You don't die like this."
Before I could figure out
what I thought he meant,
he opened his mouth,
"my dear, be patient.
For life is a hurdle
in the relay of death,
your time on this earth
is not over yet.
"When you reach the finish
then I'll come for you,
but until that moment,
here's what you'll do;
each problem that throws
itself in your sight,
promise me you won't
give up with no fight.
"The days when you
think you're over and done,
just look in the mirror,
you've already won.
Because you made it this far
through so many years,
you've conquered your demons
and outweighed your fears.
"The pills in the bottle
can wait a while longer,
because with each passing day
you've gotten much stronger.
I don't offer my help
to little girls who suffer,
I'll be breaking the hearts
of the ones that love her.
"Do you see now, child,
what I'm saying to you?
Your time is not up,
your life will ensue."
I bit down on my lip,
and nodded my head,
and just like that,
he disappeared from my bed.
That was the time,
that Death saved my life,
so if you ever want to end it,
just remember his advice.
Don't think of the pain,
and how it'll end soon,
because Death talks a lot,
when he enters your room.
a.d.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC