There are still times I reach for my phone to start texting you.
When I see something funny or find a new song, you’re still the first person I want to share it with.
Sometimes I go days without thinking of you, but then you show up in a dream. Or a memory.
I’m not over you, and that’s okay.
Happy Birthday.
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 5:45 PM UTC
I just want to say thank you
Thank you for the kiss in bed
And the eggs in the morning
I just want to say I miss you
The way you type with your thumb and forefinger, I was always confused how you managed to hold on, not drop your phone in mid text conversation.
It’s been months since we last spoke.
But the idea that we can still be friends is comforting.
Like using canola oil instead of butter to fry an egg. No matter how much oil you dump into the pan, it’s still going to stick to the bottom. Come out broken and drenched.
The oil is a good substitute. But it is not the real thing. And I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-butter is just a replacement for my feelings.
The sky is not falling, I wake up in the morning and still brush my teeth.
But it’s night now. I lie in bed thinking about slam poetry, thinking about if only I had the right words. The right metaphor to make you feel like me...me thinking about, thinking about, thinking about, thinking about
Losing you.
And I know you aren’t lost. At most you can use the maps on your phone. To guide you to the nearest grocery store. Pick out a fresh new dozen.
I just want to say thank you, you’ve laid down the recipe, spoken it into existence, but I can’t find the spatula to take it off the burner.
What is left is stuck between my teeth, the taste of char replaces expectations of nourishment. It lingers as I am forced to swallow.
I know you were trying to minimize the pain. But the stove was on high and my arms are covered in burns.
I don’t love you any more. But I’m out of butter, and my toast is burnt.
I miss the way you made me breakfast. And how you loved me.
Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 10:21 PM UTC
what is it that sits below my eyes?
It is there,
but yet I can't see.
It is felt,
but yet I do not know.
what is it that sits above my smile?
It can't be heard,
It can't be smelt,
and yet I can't ignore it.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
I don't like initiating every single conversation
hangout
text
It's not that I don't have friends
It's just that they have friends
other friends
more important friends
It's not that I don't to people
It's just that they only talk to me because they see me
five times a week
It's not that I spend friday nights alone
curled up watching netflix
I still keep my phone by my side waiting for an invitation
Because it's not like I haven't tried
I'm just not the friend you invite to a party
to hangout
to eat
And it's not like that doesn't hurt
finding ways to mask the excuse of always being along
introvertism can only go so far.
It's not like I don't ask to be included
I'm just not a part of the core group
the group chat
the skype call
Look, I understand. I get it, I really do
You have other friends, priorities, drama,
and I just fade into the background
Maybe I'm too independent or laid back
Maybe I'm not engaging enough and don't text back
It's not that I'm lonely
It's not that I don't try
I've just learned not to have to charge my phone over night
I've just learned to expect a phone call from my parents
or a text from my sister
I'm not in a friend group, but I have friends
I'm not in the group message,
the skype call
the table in the mess hall
And I would be okay with that
If I didn't know
But you let slip, without warning,
the meme that someone posted in the group
something funny someone said during lunch
the craziness of friday night
But I know
And I care
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 12:34 AM UTC
Curled toes
body heat
there is no snow
only cold air pushing in
closed eyes
big blankets
there are no lights on
only dawn breaking through
shallow breathe
eyes close back again
good morning
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
I once had a dream
where I was told that I was blind,
but I could see just fine
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
Hello...
Hi...
I um just happen to notice that you're a person. And I also happen to be a person.
By this, I see that we have something in common. **** sapiens, hmm, right?
No?
What do you mean by no?
You aren't a person?
But, but...
those eyes.
That nose,
and those genetics.
You don't associate your self with humans?
Hmmm,
I see.
Well I do,
I guess that means we can't be acquaintances then.
it was nice meeting you.
Good bye for now
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
I wish I could make everything better,
But, I know just as much as you.
I wish I could heal your pain,
But, I cannot see what you have been through.
I guess...now, I understand how I am the better half.
Yet, you don't see the contempt.
I don't believe it so,
halves are suppose to be equal.
I wish you would talk to me,
but I growl back instead.
You hit my foot as a way of love,
and I tap your knee in return.
I wish I knew what to say,
I wish I knew what to do,
I wish
and I wish.
But, all it is is empty.
So, I'll just stand by you.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
Voice
is what I see,
it is what I hear.
But, what is voice?
All it is is air.
Air
air vibrating to more air.
to things that run on the oxygen.
To the throat, to the neck, to the person.
Who was once star dust, and will one day return to the stars.
When I think of voice,
I think of my own.
The one in my head, not the one that you hear.
Because that is my voice, it it does not change through time,
harden with the wind and twisted in the cold.
It never gets tired, it is the only constant reminder
that I am my self.
Not anyone else.
I don't hear it in my ears. Or see it through my eyes.
I can't because
voice is only made up of air, vibrations of air, traveling through more air.
Now, I'm afraid. I slow down my speech pattern so that the rubble in my head can be heard over the screaming pain that echoes in the back of my neck,
wait no, I mean head, the front of my head. The back of my head...
my brain.
Why are you only electricity when I wished for air?
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
It's
it's
it's a collection of thoughts
cough cough
a
a
a collection of things, things that don't want to be seen.
Seen by the likes of you, with your nosey eyes and pointed up chin.
Look at all the disgrace that you placed on them.
But, don't be sad, happy, or crossed between both.
It's
it's not about your emotional pain.
I am the star of this show, do you not see the bright lights that glean out of my checks?
But, now they are turning meek and red from the heat.
The show slowly turns to you and
I fade out,
sitting alone not because I have no one,
but because they are in places I don't want to be.
in places that I don't want to see,
Now, what am I trying to say?
Oh yes, listen to me.
I am me.
I am not the ocean, or the sun.
The moon does not crave my call.
You are not the earth or the world,
you do not deserve my attention, nor I yours.
What is observed and deserved...
it's
it's
it's called being kind,
because maybe I can help, if you let me.
I hate you, you stole my shine.
But, don't be discouraged when I still hold out a pencil for you to use on your final exam.
I do not intent for this to be a threat or a regret. I am just trying to help,
my own opinions do not hold true.
You do not have to trust me or love me,
Because I will not.
The difference between us is subtle, yet I see it.
No matter, if I can make your day a little better I will try.
Or make you laugh rather than cry I will still try.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC