And in the darkest of nights,
In the darkest of nights when not even the moon dares to peak out from its nebulous slumber, the ocean and sky have no beginning or end only black from earth to heaven.
Unlike us, neither ocean nor sky find fault in each others blackberry hues, unlike you the ocean never stopped kissing the shore line no matter the light.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
have an oil spill of hair, eyes blacker than night, but you,
you are not like me
you with all your mattress springs for locks, rusted brown combed back
you with your mahogany irises
and if I could I would give you my calluses
something to help you hold on
I would give you my hips, though you dance pretty good for a white kid, you might need a little more wiggle room to get by on in the city
I've got a quick tongue, not made of sugar like yours, or of marmalade or melodies but you can borrow it if you need it
and maybe one day you'll leave here and never look back
maybe you'll stay away from all suburbs or small towns that remind you of this one
I hope that even once your name is incandescent, you will still remember how it was at sixteen
I hope that you do not forget that you were not alone
I hope that even after the spotlight finds you, you will be kind to those that remind you of people like me and places like this
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
you do not think about it often
you do not want to think about it anymore
the thought is still a fleeting one
the same one it has always been
so you are making coffee, or waiting for the microwave, or hitting the snooze button
and suddenly there is he is standing in front of you, right where you left him before you left all of him,
right. there.
he is not smiling,
neither are you.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
we don't dance, not tonight
tonight, we are all looking a little bit more fabric than body
and I've got that sort of forced smile, awkward pose, first month of high school kind of look
the one with the wrong shoes, and the sweaty palms
the one with his older brother's suit, and no corsage
the one where we carpool
so we don't dance, no, not tonight
tonight is about feeling small next to the speakers
about the heel breaking, the uncomfortable laughter, and the sunday school slow dance
tonight is before the attitude
tonight is more dress than hips,
more dirt road than runway
no swagger, not the middle of dance floor
just a long line coming from the bathroom, and a mean homecoming queen
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
the lights are turned way down low, so we drop it accordingly
like dance baby dance cause we have never looked this good
because I bought this dress for this moment and it was worth every penny
cause most of this make up is my mothers but it feels like it was meant for me
and I pull at your tie like its taffy,
see my lips taste like candy, my eyes look like chocolate, and you twirl me around like caramel, so I feel just as golden
tonight life is sweet
like dance baby dance cause right now your feet aren't hurting
like dance baby dance cause a beat won't ever feel this good
like dance baby dance, tonight I am all brown sugar, legs, and liquor in desserts
so dance baby, they can't take their eyes off of us,
dance like no one is watching
because god knows everybody is
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
dear freshman class,
1. It doesn't always have to be the love song or the funeral march
you are not obligated nest yourself in extremes
believe me, they will tell you how classrooms feel like caskets but you are by no means decomposing
2. You are but children in a linoleum jungle, young wild things at play, you are fresh fruit, ripe but not yet forbidden. Do not rush to grow into your bones just yet, we all want that kind of wiggle room back.
3. the seniors will leave, your boyfriend will dump you, your friends will change, but the sky will still be the sky, the sun will still be the sun, and the world will not end. With any good day comes skinned knees, bruises and dirt, remember that.
4. Maybe you'll try out loving with an open wound, come out bitter with your teeth knocked out, come out damaged or guilty. Fifteen is an awfully inconvenient time to love someone, I'm not telling you to be afraid, you already are, all I'm saying is learn to let go as fast as you learned to hold on, accept defeat, know that people can only ruin you if you let them.
5. It will feel like getting beat down sometimes, but you too will find good use for your knuckles, for your hands, your lips, your tongue. It will feel like getting beat down sometimes but you too will find people to patch you up. People to find comfort in, people to text at 2 am, people that stay.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
One.
She said it was gonna be tough
I didn't know it was going to be 1am still awake kind of tough
I thought I would be old enough now, strong enough now to stand up straight and on my own but I've never been on my own like that.
We were in this together from the beginning but he always ****** at keeping promises, and keeping it together.
And I always wanted to fix everything.
But we weren't broken, we began unassembled and we were to naive to even glance at the instructions so we put together this unbalanced time bomb of a thing, called it us. Called it trust, called it innocence. Calling it everything but the truth until we started calling each other out on our mistakes.
it just hurts man, it hurts like not being able to breathe, like being punched, it just hurts like I didn't think it could
I don't want to cry about him anymore, it all just hurts
Two.
It snows heavy and it snows quiet here
The light leaves this sleepy little town without a trace, without even the smallest of goodbyes to hold on to.
How heavy are these burdens that we carry on our shoulders through hallways, into classrooms
we crumple and fold our heartbreak and failure between textbooks and notebooks and pencils
I have lost myself in more places than I have lost hairbands
There is no cheat sheet at the bottom of my book bag for this kind of broken
I play music loud these days, I put on headphones at 1 am so I can forget every angle of him
I don't want to think of him anymore, he has run me dry
Three. I wake up every morning hung over from the times I kissed him in my dreams
Four. And then come the nights when I think about him like crazy
These are moments I cannot escape. Nights where I lie awake.
Five. It is an unnerving cycle of my heart wanting so bad to put it all into words, and my mind thinking he doesn't deserve them.
Six. The distance between the reality I want and the reality I have is so great that when standing between them equally, it is impossible to tell which is the lesser evil.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
In one month, I have been lucky enough to breathe far from the small town sometimes hesitate to call home
In Rome, the street lamps were endless and oozed romance like handsome strangers serenading in front of restaurants, and my name bouncing off all those brick walls, even the alleys begged my glance for just a little bit longer
On the nights where the rain beating against the brick walls blended in with our sleepy chaos, I could see myself crumbling into every corner of this country. I could melt into the rain, and ******* did I ever want to.
And I think I left my heart somewhere between the crumble of Pompeii to the rooftops of Sorrento, maybe somewhere on the cobblestone of Orvietto or the puddles of Rome , on the bridges of Florence, between all those hushed conversations, maybe while all held on to each other, honestly at this point I can't say I care to remember.
Now south where it taste like home, and this altitude high swings my hips like nothing else I've ever known, I walk with the rhythm of my family's stories on these very streets, and I like the bit of grown I've only but tasted. And this all too latin warmth could swallow me up if I let it.
And I just might let it.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
I used to miss him so much it hurt, so much I could feel it on my skin, so much I felt completely empty, so much it kept me awake, so much I could cry,
and I did
and I'm not sorry for that
The heartbreak hit the hardest on the third day, and it shook me up more than I knew it could, I didn't think I would ever feel so broken
and I did
and I'm not ashamed of that anymore
Wanting someone so much, it stings is the most exhilarating madness I've ever known
There is something that makes you whole, when you're with someone like that
but loneliness is a cold heartbreaker, and it leaves you breathless and bruised
It takes every bit of logic from you, its the kind of madness that you cannot write yourself out of
And for a while he was my favorite person, and all I ever wanted to do was kiss him
for a while he was someone I could not let go of
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
To be in your arms again would be the most satisfying mistake
the sweetest of all sins
And my chest fatigues at wanting the things I cannot have like crazy
Nowadays you look at me sparingly and with an exasperating fury I know must wear you out too
And I have heard nothing but barely there questions and cut throat silence from you
I am starting to believe that you really don't care anymore and I'm wondering, does that scare you as much as it scares me? Because I am shaking in my skin, in my bones, when you shoulder blades tense up at the mere fact of my existence.
Thinking of your gentle smile, of your chocolate eyes is the **** most poetic way I've known regret and self loathing. I remember how you and I used to melt into each other but nowadays it seems like you want me to melt into the cracks in the side walks, it seems like you want me to just simply dissolve into the pavement.
to disappear.
You shake your head every time I dare open this mouth you once kissed and I know **** well that I'm still pretty funny. So If my humor hasn't changed, maybe your taste in opinions has.
And I don't really know what that means yet.
To be on your lips would be the most enjoyable movement of my downfall
And you have established of being text book definition bad for me.
You could set fire to all the poetry I wrote of you with the remnants of your burning tongue.
We have already ran circles around our new routines, you sit on the opposite side of the room farthest from the aura of my perfume and I laugh almost every time desperately trying to numb the short tempered tightness in my chest that is too stubborn to ******* leave already. You hand her your jacket and I close my eyes, humming my new favorite songs, you hand her a whiteboard and I pretend I didn't just see that smile, I know that smile, I was that smile. I close my eyes and hum a different song.
I'm starting to believe that you really don't care anymore, and the sad part is that if I really want to move on I have accept that you aren't gonna say any kind words to me from now on. You see after the apologizing, after the anger works its way through you, and you get real tired of fighting, all you have left is sadness and burnt up words. And I've never thought of that as any version of beautiful so anything I say just sounds repetitive.
I'm starting to believe that your never gonna care again, and that your gonna keep hating me from an uncomfortably safe distance, and I keep wondering If that scares you as much as it scares me.
I am not impervious to your words and I hear them from everyone you've demonized me to,
and they burn.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC