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Circa 1994 Mar 2014
I never want to forget the fear associated with being completely in love with someone
Or boat rides I took with my dad and sister where we all lied to ourselves for thirty minutes.
The salty air demanded our smiles, stole the laughter straight out of our mouths.

I never want to forget the new years eve when I drank so many mimosas I couldn't stand up and watched you fall asleep in the closet of a stranger's house.
We were both so drunk and it was perfect.

I never want to forget that I promised myself I'd be happy, and that the opposite of happy isn't alone.
Circa 1994 Mar 2014
Hello.
You already told me that.
You're so pretty I kind of hate you for it.
Stop talking.
I don't care.
Do you wanna hang out?
I miss you.
Please don't go.
I'm sick of crying over you.
Is it something I said?
You're just like my father.
Sorry.
What do you want me to do?
You're mean.
I thought you'd call.
What you said kept me up all night.
I'd rather you didn't do that.
You're good at hurting me.
What happened?
I don't believe you.
I hate you.
Leave me alone.
Stop.
Goodbye.
I hate being around people because it reminds me how lonely I am.
Circa 1994 Jan 2015
Ghosts of arguments passed.
The harsh echo of words that linger
In the coldest corners of your mind.

Foggy apparitions that slither through your body without permission,
Like the way a hurt can enter and never leave fully.

Acidic taste of ***** spouting,
Burning through good memories.
Now they're tainted with chunks of food you've forgotten you ate.

And all that's left
Is shoulders hunched forward,
Back and neck stiffened
As you brace yourself for the pain.
Circa 1994 Nov 2013
Not the kind that requires
Repentance.
Or 20 hail Mary's.

I feel like Oliver Tate
From Submarine.
You're Jordanna,
Reading through
The pages of my diary.

I want you to know
My innermost workings.

Would it hurt you somehow
If I were to say it?
Is it selfish of me to want to?

Tell me it's unconventional.

I know.

But so is breathing fire
And having a three legged dog.
And both make for a great story.

Our story would make for a great
Indie romance.
The kind where you don't cry
Until the very end.

Is the distance enough to soften the blow?
I'm afraid to be close to the things I love.
Circa 1994 Nov 2013
I don't like anyone.
Mostly, because people ****.
I want to go home.
Circa 1994 Nov 2013
riffling through my old journals
I stumbled across some unsent letters I'd written.
You may not have read what I wrote
but I feel I still owe you an apology
for the nasty, hurtful things I said.

I was such a ****.
I can hardly believe I wrote them.
I don't want to believe it.

But maybe it's good that I don't recognize the girl I used to be.
Maybe it means I'm changing...

for the better hopefully.

I suppose I've forgotten my past
intentionally.

Ignorance is bliss?
in this case it is.
Circa 1994 Nov 2013
your* poem.
And how it inspired me to write that one poem.
and now this one.

I don't think you believed me when I said it was good.
But it was.
Usually I hate reading other people's work.
I guess that makes me a bit egotistic.
But every once in a while
I stumble upon something wonderful.

I reread it several times.
And probably will again after I finish writing this poem.
It was honest.
Most people are too afraid of what others will think to be honest
and therefore I find most of what I read to be lacking.
I used to be afraid too.

I've always stayed true to the first basic rule of writing,
Write what you know.
So this poem is about you.
Circa 1994 Jan 2014
I just want
what everybody wants.

It just took me a while to realize I can't have it.
Circa 1994 Dec 2013
It's okay.
One day I'll leave this town.
This rundown city
of mundane madness.
This place where they know my face
and forget my name.

I'm endlessly restless.
Every Wednesday is an existential crisis.
I clock my time card
to earn the currency that promises escape
but I can't seem to leave.

Dreams won't come as easily these days.
And soon I fear I will have missed my opportunity
to put them into practice.

I don't want to be alone
but I always find a reason to be.
I've given socializing some thought
and I've decided that I'd rather be a no one
than a "plus one".
It's just not for me.

I'll keep chipping away
my broken bits
until I'm a pile of shards.

Even when you think you've cleaned them all up
there's one lingering.
People don't piece shards back together;
they throw them away
and buy something better.
Circa 1994 Oct 2014
Waiting.
There's no negating the fact that I hate it.
Because it seems to end in
A change of plans.
Promises made to me have to wait
For those made to others.
Last minute rejections
Lead to further reflections
About time
And the things I spend it on.

Fool me twice
Shame on me.
Circa 1994 Dec 2013
Wind me up
And let me go.
Like the childish toys
You got rid of
Long ago.
Circa 1994 Sep 2014
The fastest way to my heart
Is through my fingertips.
But first my love,
Let's start with a kiss.
Circa 1994 Jan 2015
Sad because you feel too much
Or mad because you can't feel a thing.
Greener grass beckons,
And you wave to it longingly.

Love the rise,
Hate the fall.
Melodramatic monotone of monotony.
Perishable Plateau.
Whisk me away into infinity.

Dead on arrival.
Dead to the world.
Dead as a doornail.

Stuff me back inside my body
Like clothes in a suitcase.
I fit. I promise.
Circa 1994 Jan 2014
And that's as close as any of us get
To touching happiness...
Contentness.

But it's never enough to satisfy us.
Only enough to make us miserable.
Circa 1994 Feb 2014
I flattened my palm against yours to see if we were compatible.
My hand was dwarfed by yours.
                                                          ­         

                                "Are we compatible?" you ask.

"You feel familiar,
like a memory.
Comfortable.
Like shoes,
with worn in soles.
Like a dream,
that became reality."
...............................................Yes.
Circa 1994 Feb 2014
I give you permission
To dream of me
In something that comes off easily.

I consent to your hands
Trailing down my body
Until my vision goes spotty.

Touch me at every red light.
Make me feel right.

Don't make me ask again.
(This is the poem's end.)
Circa 1994 Mar 2014
"Trust your womanly intuition."
But what if I don't want to?
What if my tuition says:
"you can't break the cycle."
Or:
"you're a **** up."

I'm tired of these things.
These things my mind does
To sabotage.
I'm tired of protecting myself
From me.
I'm tired of not having the words
To explain how I feel
In a way that makes sense.

**** intuition.
Can't trust it
Because I can't trust myself
To do the things I say I will:
"Be happy."
"Be productive."
"Be better."
"Forgive."
Circa 1994 Oct 2013
We're not hardwired to mean it every time we say
I'm sorry.

We save most of our sympathy for ourselves
and give the leftovers to those who have earned it.

We're hardwired to say
Fine.
Or some variation of it, every time someone asks
How are you?

We all know the apologies aren't sincere enough.
We're well aware that if we truly cared about someone's well being
they would tell us that they're
Scared.
Because they don't know how they're going to pay the rent.
Because their mother has cancer.
Because
I
made
myself
vulnerable.

I'm sorry.
I'm fine.
I'm a
l
i
a
r
.
Circa 1994 Jan 2014
Hi.
Hi.
I can be more interesting.
talking
about
nothing
in
particular.

Bye.
No
Conv­ince me to stay.
My feet are cold.
I'll warm them with mine.
My hands are cold.
Put them in my shirt.
*As long as you return the favor.
Circa 1994 Jan 2014
and you're perfect for all the wrong reasons:
you like cats more than you like people
your favorite days are ones that don't involve putting on pants
you can't seem to chop onions without cutting your fingers.

and we work despite the distance:
we hate the same things
we have synchronized Netflix dates
we like each others' frequencies.

you are perfection that fills up an empty bed
you are everything I want

and you are
**missing from me.
Circa 1994 Dec 2014
Conversing,
Conversing,
Conversing -
seen 11:05pm
Typing,
Typing,
Typing.
Delete,
Delete,
Delete.
Too busy to say bye.
Leave,
Leave,
Leave.
*******.
Let me cool down.
I don't want to talk with you right now.
Exit in the middle of an exchange of words.
I'm forgotten.
Replace apologies with "brbs"
Circa 1994 Mar 2014
i'm a bad investment.
a fixer upper
that you'll be lucky to break even on.

there's mold in the attic,
water damaged floors,
but worst of all:
I'll never feel like *home.
Un.
Circa 1994 Oct 2013
Un.
I think a lot of people find silence scary.
Is is because we're afraid of ourselves?
I wish I hadn't removed my blindfold.
Circa 1994 Feb 2014
the manifestation of love
as she liked to call it.

if you lost you voice
would they be able to see it?
or have you given the words
all the responsibility?

can you touch the object of your affection
with something other than your hands?
or are sensations mere physical interactions to you?

have you forgotten what it was like
*before you had your first kiss?
No.
Circa 1994 Mar 2013
I remember the precise moment I stopped loving him.
We had gone out to dinner.
I was just getting back from the lady's room.
He looked up at me and smiled.
His eyes, I noticed, were dead and lifeless.
Not even a dull glimmer of light remained.
I blinked
thinking eyes would appear in the two gaping holes in his face.
They only grew deeper.
He looked at me quizzically.
Perhaps something in my expression had given me away.
I sat down beside him
avoiding looking at what had once been a pair of chlorine blue eyes.
It was as if something had changed in the time it took me to use the restroom.
When I left everything was normal.
But when I came back he was no longer the man I loved.
I denied it for a while,
dismissing it as a feeling that would pass just like indigestion.
But it never did.
It only worsened.
An unexplainable bitterness began to build up inside me.
Today I looked through some old photos of us
and realized that I'd imagined those chlorine blue eyes of his
because he'd never had eyes of his own to begin with.
Funny howI was the one with the eyes and I was blind the whole time.
Maybe I should pluck my eyes out.
Circa 1994 Feb 2014
Advice is a funny thing.
Always given, but never taken.
Advice is obvious.
"Don't do that."
"Trust your heart."
"Sometimes you have to learn the hard way."

Everyone is qualified
to tell you things you already know.
But I'd rather someone unqualified tell me something I didn't.
Circa 1994 Dec 2014
Self destructive
Is my middle name.
I forgot its not safe to be in love if you're not numb
Circa 1994 Sep 2016
our perfect little bubble has popped
to make room for other people
and adult responsibility
and I feel the impact of open space.
im not used to air that doesn't belong to you.

im alone
I extend my limbs in all directions
waiting for something to catch
a preoccupied lover
a friend at work unable to lend an ear
a friend that's not a friend is choosing someone to bed instead.
he is coping,
the way I used to
in a way that would hurt more than me in the long run.

and there it is, right where I left it -
i s o l a t i o n      
---
and the worst bit is
it's me I have to keep my own company.
Circa 1994 Mar 2015
You calm me down,
When you
Call me baby.
When you don't disappear.
You excite and delight me
Encourage and nourish

Keep doing those things
That you do to me boo
Circa 1994 Jun 2016
Waiting at the airport.
But i was waiting long before that
For him to show up
For him.
To show me something
That thing
To remind me
That we're in love.

Waiting.
He is late.
Waits.
He's not coming.
Waiter.
He is busy.

He arrives
But I am gone.
At least I wish I was
Circa 1994 Jun 2016
My boyfriend is vanishing
Right before my very eyes.

I can reach right through him.
He's as hollow as his i love yous.

It's not his fault,
He's in a new place.
He can't help it,
The nobodies are more interesting than me.
Don't be bitter,
But I tell myself: "they couldn't **** a **** like me."
I tell myself: "forgive him"
And then, more quietly: "let go."
I want to touch you,
But there are consiquences to touching strangers
Circa 1994 Nov 2014
Excuses.
My vice.
But I'm quitting cold turkey.
Circa 1994 Apr 2017
I'm a destructive mass of passions
and I will never fall in love the same way twice.
the first two were easy
but the third was my vice.

he left me
while he loved me
and I swore I left my body.

the ocean never seemed so vast.
Circa 1994 Mar 2015
Trying too hard.
That's why your legs are covered in bruises.
Smiling too wide
That's why he doesn't want you.
Crying too often.
That's why you're so good at making people laugh.
Circa 1994 Feb 2017
he played with me
like I wasn't this delicate
beautiful thing;
because he knew I didn't want to be.

people take caution around beauty,
people fear this intangible thing.
they have it
or they want it
but it's not to be understood.

your steps are lighter
when you can't breathe.

and beauty brings forth
great suffering.
you're trapped in it
like lance through your heart
that puts you on your knees,

but you're still all  alone
you beautiful thing,
Circa 1994 Aug 2014
And even if you didn't want me anymore, I wouldn't regret wanting you.
Because who can blame me for wanting to touch something perfect
Circa 1994 May 2015
And to think,
I just started writing you a story of boy meets girl.
But I forgot to add the part where boy leaves.
Circa 1994 Apr 2015
I've run out of things to say
That don't weigh more than you can lift.
Circa 1994 Mar 2015
My prince
My liege
My ephemeral love.

I wrote this happy poem for you
So you can sleep.
Circa 1994 Nov 2014
Sleep soundly
And dream of our legs tangling
Together beneath the sheets.

I'll snuggle closer to my pillow
And inhale your smell on the sweater you left behind.

You're my only source of warmth.
Circa 1994 Nov 2014
Torturous.
Surrendering yourself.
Being brave enough to give someone the power to hurt you.
And loving them all the same when they do.
Circa 1994 Apr 2017
the boys that try and save me
don't know the damage my daddy did

the boys that love me
don't know how foreign that love is

the boys that know me
don't know everything
prayers are my new favorite currency
Circa 1994 Nov 2013
I don't know how to deal with things.
When I don't know how to deal with things, I write.
I write about the way I wish things could be,
the way I wish things were.

It's like I'm on auto-pilot,
watching as a series of events unfolds
with no real control over how they happen.
Or when.

And why?
Maybe Karma.
Maybe bad luck.
Maybe no real reason at all.

Maybe I don't matter so someone else can.
Circa 1994 Jan 2015
It's funny how things work out.
Even funnier how they don't.
Life is a funny, whimsical little thing.
It's even funnier when you're dead.
Circa 1994 Jun 2014
Why would you love a girl
that needs to lie next to strangers to cope?
Circa 1994 Jun 2014
Where's my inner beauty.
Rolled up in a spliff.
Where's my peace of mind.
Jumping off a cliff
Circa 1994 Aug 2014
and i'm not sure what's worse;
to be lonely with someone, or to be lonely without.
Circa 1994 Apr 2014
maybe I misheard.
happiness is(n't) a fluke.
Circa 1994 Mar 2014
And I can't stop this thing my mind does.
This constant battle of what I want versus what I need.
What I want versus what I get.

I used to write down the things worth remembering.
The things I'd rather die than forget.
But now those things are in a box;
a box I don't open.

I've remembered enough.
Circa 1994 Oct 2014
Be careful with words.
Don't toss them around.
You may not realize how heavy they are,
And heavy things hit hard.
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