1.
a letter in the mail,
a three, four, five, or even six digit number meant for you to repay, sooner or later. but we both know the answer lies later than sooner
2.
in bed during broad daylight wearing his clothes,
missing, missing, missing
an empty space in your heart, vespers of fingerprints across your body
crying into your pillow til your eyes turn red and angry, bloodshot
defeat, the smell everywhere, damp.
where do loved ones go when they still exist, just not in relation to you?
3.
unfixable,
irreversible loss.
and finally, 4.
the screen.
tendrils of hair bunched into angry clumps in the palm of your hand,
blood dripping from eye to mouth,
a bored lumberjack with a garish mask flanked by black branches, auburn leaves
all of these things and a doll at the end of the dark corridor are nothing to worry about.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
i can hear it when i'm walking down the street even if it's silent.
gazes fall over me like watchful crows, i try my best not to boomerang their stares. fearful, always fearful.
once an anecdote to share over a cup of coffee or a raised hand to gain participation points in women and gender studies classes,
sometimes (hopefully) taken seriously but above all if i was with the right person, a palpable tale.
i can hear their voices flood my mind even when they're not talking,
all backwards baseball hats and oversized shirts, pants that sag too low, purposely belted in the wrong place, or if not them then a construction worker sneering twirling his screwdriver in hand, an uneducated high schooler stepping off public transit, sometimes even a brazen-mouthed father holding a young child's hand.
i hear the unwanted coo that eclipses that of the humble new york pigeon or harmless night owl,
i had once thought "sonorous" to be a beautiful word but now i just associate it negatively,
for i hear it, the stream of "hey mami"s,"god bless you", "hey **** "hey gorgeous how you doin?"
effortlessly tangible like the condensation on a glass of water.
i hear it when they don't speak, it comes naturally to me.
every man i pass by, i give him a voice. i say the words for him in my mind before he even gets the chance to speak or look at me. i've rehearsed it so many times because i've grown to expect it.
constantly fearful and hyperaware.
it's getting to the point where i can't even remember not being like this.
i hate myself for it because, and i repeat words in my head "honey, it's your fault for what you're wearing." who's on your side really? who's on your side when it's 100 degrees on a summer's day and you don't want to wear pants because you don't want to feel the burn on your legs?
"it shouldn't bother you so much."
"just listen to music."
"boys will be boys."
again and again and again
who really understands?
thankful for fall not only because of the pumpkin spice lattes and the countdown til the giant christmas tree is set up in the city, but partly because it'll give me a reason to dress frumpy, unflattering, shapeless.
hopefully it'll help me appear unknown.
that's all i can really hope for.
for now.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
i can't pinprick the moment when something in me snapped and instead of being fully confident and carefree i decided i needed more.
more reassurance
more security
more.
these days i find my hands reaching out to grasp things i can't carry, and even though i hear the same three words over and over and repeat them back like an old favorite song, i still shiver out of nowhere.
perhaps it's a combination of the passing time being spent on things i can't control, be it work and routine conversation with throngs of people i'd rather not see
all of which underscore the fact that i can't touch you because you always seem too far away.
my childish habits have been chasing after me, these days i find myself skulking all the way home after work because i'd rather not entertain, i'd rather hide under the warmth of the covers and immerse myself in fresh or tattered pages. live a different story other than my own for a bit.
tired of the fear but unable to change it.
complacent with the quietude and stillness.
missing the past and you in this silly way.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
you asked for a sip from my straw but i just let you have the whole drink because i wasn't going to finish it anyway. respelt every word as "give" even though the meaning no longer applied to the situation. til whatever felt like an obligation morphed into a little something resembling friendship. harmony. camaraderie. i'm a sucker for those types of things. we could paint our nails and don heart-shaped sunglasses in the summer time together. lay in the grass and i'll remind you to stop biting your nails if you remind me to be better at saving my money. i have really great memory so i'll never forget--and sorry in advance if this haunts you--but i'm always willing to forgive if it means it'll bring me a happy memory to write about.
it's way easier to open up than it is for me to close.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
i saw an elderly man today at war with gravity. i watched him tumble on the time-made incline of the pavement. he laid there with his cane in one hand and a crumpled ball of tissue in the other and wiped at his bleeding nose. we didn't know him but we stopped being bystanders and rushed over to help him up. nameless characters peeled off the backdrop like paper dolls in a children's activity book and everyone's faces were fraught with worry for the poor guy. he couldn't speak english so our barrage of questions likely confused his bedraggled and weary state even more. eventually a woman who spoke his tongue came to his aid and we later walked in the same direction and saw her tugging onto his arm, leading him where he needed to be. he still looked as detached from the scene as he did earlier.
i wonder if i'll be like that when i'm, let's say, 72. i don't want to be helpless but i'm scared that's all it comes down to. sometimes i feel burdened by the thought of time constantly passing, by the stolid fact that the progression of time will always be continuous. a never doesn't exist, and some things have to be inevitable.
i can say i wish that time would just stop even briefly but even then i'd just be wasting time.
what does it take to chisel time?
what does it take to structure a fully lived life?
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
in words that come after "i'd never thought i'd"
in the instrumentals that give me time to digest the lyrics that remind me of you
in my smile as i'm coming up the stairs for the 67th time at work that day
in the color of the sky that i look up to distractedly thinking of you when we're apart
in the 2 am creeping up on me as i try to write something that even remotely captures how fleeting the moments we have together are
in another contented sigh
thank you.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
girls like me are built small
some might say fragile, even
but our hands are tough and strong
always clutching broad swords and shields
our lips: ruby red, from lipstick and/or taking the occasional wrong turn once in a while
our hips: like vases for flowers you sometimes forget to water when you're too busy (somewhere along the line i became more of a wildflower than a wallflower though)
our noses: so cute and buttonlike and perfect for those little lost and found kisses
our mouths: hopefully or hopelessly unabashed, through speech and silence
our willpower can crumble mountains
the dexterity of our hands tries as best as it can to reach you
but sometimes you're just too far away
on top of hillcrests in timbuktu
or in another woman's arms
or lost in your own thought
but it's alright, i laugh and you can still see the glimmer in my eyes even in the shadows you left behind
i am stronger than this
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
while waiting for the next girl in barnes & noble you can pull out an anatomy book and trace my bones like you wish you could have done before when it was still a viable option
you inched her name into our conversations because it tasted like honey and devil's food cake on your tongue, looked away when i begged for answers
left me writing you letters you never read and calling your name and wishing you good morning like the good girl i wanted to be even though i’d grown so weak
behind your frames who did you see when you saw me? i want to know, i want to know if the guy before saw the same wide-eyed half-smiling half-crying picture of naivety
i hate sensing patterns
you knew
you knew
you knew
but you did it anyway
i knew
i knew
i knew
the ending very well
and i let it happen anyway as if i didn’t know any better
i kept waiting for the broken traffic light to change.
i shivered because my cardigan was too thin,
high-low chiffon skirt pulling an unwanted marilyn and sending chills as i stepped onto the platform,
phone in my hand at 63%, got texts from everybody but you
body trembling on the walk home under the moonless sky.
from now on trusting is going to feel like an olympic sport
i've never been that athletically adept but i'll learn to pole vault the hell away next time when i see the signs loud and flagrant.
third time's the charm right?
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
you can find my head in the clouds if you look up the residences of bored angels who have made us pawns in their games
you can find my heart under the faucet, i've rinsed it already and it's nearly done drying if not for the occasional drip here and there,
but hush your mouth because it's progress, it's migrated from the hamper where you tossed your sweater after you realized you wanted to get "that piece of dirt" off your sleeve
you can find my soul when you shut your eyes and take a walk through the city in your mind, tracing our ghostly footsteps,
the pedometer refuses to start on the grounds of how impossible that number seems
you can find the rest of me every time you break off eye contact because you don't really want to have that tedious conversation,
in old letters
in music
in lonely 2 ams
in frustrations
in the leftover spaces your distractions and routines don't quite fill.
it's ok because i'm sure i'll reach out for you too somehow,
there has to be a yellowpages lying around my house somewhere.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:54 AM UTC
today while waiting for the train a woman with a voice so immaculate it sounded like a recording sang "at last" and i felt the final slivers of disillusionment scatter,
i felt love the way carrie bradshaw would type fervently about it late at night in bed,
i felt renewed faith in love surge through me.
though the tunnel i then walked through reeked of incense, i marveled at my own rebirth of innocence. wide-eyed once more.
today while on the train a girl in maroon pants tippy-toed and kissed her boyfriend and he sat next to me and she sat across from him. a couple of people stood in front of me, bustling along, but i shifted positions to meet the girl's gaze and gesticulated, "do you wanna switch seats with me?"
the look on her face said it all.
do unto others, right?
when we met it felt like he was speaking to a corner bookshelf of my heart that needed a little bit of dusting. he swiftly picked up one of those books and read from it and it made me feel good.
or at least that's what it says, according to my new journal.
i hope a fellow starry-eyed soul switches seats with you on the train so you can laugh at inside jokes with him,
i hope you can hold hands and marvel at the street performer
i hope you call your best friend and tell her about it while you're walking home,
i hope this happens to you, over and over and over,
repetitive but you're so happy you shed the cocoon of routine and burst out: untethered, fearless, maybe even into song.
cheer up, don't give up.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:30 AM UTC