What are you searching for at the bottom of that bottle?
Any message to be found, I'm sure you swallowed long ago.
I lose sight of you with every shot glass emptied.

-watch as you grasp at the shadows of the charisma upon which you rely.

You commit to the role of comedian perfectly; ironic
Your wit dulled along with your senses.

- like a court jester with no head to lose.

But someone like you should never play the fool.
"I love you's" mean less when tainted with tastes of whiskey.

And I just want you to want me like I'm that last drop...

I'm not asking you to let me be your sobriety.
I understand dependency...
I know I complicate recovery...

with my red wines and reminiscing.

- and I just want to clear your head like coffee beans...

You tell me I'm intoxicating
- and I don't know how to tell you I don't want to be just another drug.

Laying next to you is like sliding a cotton crew cut over bare skin - and looking into your eyes is a lot less like homework - trying to add and subtract all the ifs and ands and buts - to get an answer. It's more like looking through old photo albums and seeing how far you've come... While the neighbor's dog barks and car doors slam only dozens of feet from the bed in which we lay for hours - tasting each other's tendencies - both spoken and other forms of oral. And I just want to bask in a moment with you - but moments bleed into minutes bleed into memories of clock faces and LCD screens for time checked - time lost? But I wouldn't mind being lost a time or two with you.

Reading back through diary entries...
Old narratives of true love
Before pino noir and paychecks...

I've never felt so far from myself.

I've realized: Writing has become my profession, and no longer my pastime.

I don't want to write about pain anymore.

Forgiveness trumps anger.
Love trumps infidelity.

Compromise trumps all.

...

Life becomes less about being in love, and more about being sane.

I stand still in this room, to look across at you, and grin.
You don't have to understand what this means...
You make me re-evaluate my values.
I'm not sure what this feeling is without the butterflies...
And the heart-stops... and the blushing cheeks.
I don't know this girl who lets you scrunch her face.
And laughs... and plays... and doesn't plan every single second...
I don't think you understand the significance,
Of my words, of my relaxed disposition...
I don't look at clocks when I am around you.

I don't need your affections every minute...
Co-dependency has become enjoyment of company.
Sleeping alone isn't empty, next to you is simply a perk.
Sleeping with you, not a demand, but a pleasure.
Who is this girl, grinning at you across the room...
Letting you tickle her sides... telling you truths
TRUTHS... I don't think you understand the significance of that word...
Of MY words. There are no walls in my words. (only in my chest)
And "I Love You's" aren't spilling from my lips.
And I don't think we understand the significance of that.

I fall hard, blindly, way too quickly.
But I'm not falling right now. I'm standing here, eyes WIDE open.
I see all of you, and I wait... and patience is not a characteristic of mine.
And I don't think you understand the significance of this...
I feel something is happening here...
A realization; one I had read somewhere in a Jonathan Safran Foer novel.
About falling in love so ordinarily, that you begin to think it isn't love at all...
But something much more ordinary.
And.. this is different... but what it is evades me.
I can't diagnose this as "the real thing," because I only know what the "real" thing is not...

Being away from you isn't painful, it just isn't preferred.
I like that I don't have to hold my breath when we're apart.
But, I feel my facade fall away when I walk through your door.
As if there is no need for pretenses in a room with you...
I'm not that girl, and I don't want you to think I am...
I want to use big words, and giggle at their superfluity.
Let you laugh at my pretentiousness- a misnomer- as I'm not faking anything at all.

I like that I look at you... and I don't know exactly what you're thinking.
And I don't think you understand the significance of that...
Control, let go... and I'm not terrified...
And I don't feel like a half, not quite a whole...
But, I'm learning how to be, and who to be...
And I simply have the pleasure of having you along for the journey.

I'm afraid I don't understand the significance of...
    these words, of the realization that you will read them...
        that you will try to qualify each adjective... and understand each verb...
And dissect me...
    and I will try to explain, a kindness I so rarely attempt...
        and I might not make any sense, and I might not know how you feel...
And... I might just be fine with not knowing.

I might just stand, and grin, and not tell you why.
But, not for not knowing,
But... for not needing to understand.

Yet.

*******.





for not realizing what you just lost.

Real love is too realistic to bear a name: true, enduring, forever.
Romance is not romantic, for love letters are dull to read, and flowers wilt, and butterflies cease to flutter.

Love, you'll never be further away than when you are lying next to me.
When I can hear your heartbeat, and know there is no guarantee that another night will pass in your arms.

I lie to myself to keep the pieces aligned.

And miles from where you are, I lie in bed, sleepless, unsettled.
Solitude: my closest friend, my last resort, my life support.
When you, my legs-my love, are not there to support me.

For foundations settle, walls crack, paint chips.
And fires will consume what the winds leave standing.

I wish I could have stood with you.
Planted deeper our roots.
Made a one from a two.




But fairytales don't always come from “dreams come true.”

Which is better-

to be let go

or

pushed away?

I want to know what love without endings feels like-
see expectations met.
live to love an old man- an old woman, myself.
I want to know what love without conditions looks like-
see endurances tested- proved.
live to die another day- or never at all.

(Feb 5, 2012)

pretty picture in the globe
miss when it used to sing
you sang along, you sang to me.

but now, it's just a broken thing.

on the shelf, in my room
cobwebs clouding up my June
missing summers spent with you

but, sun don't shine when I am blue.


(now...)


blood stained feet
'cross broken ground
our earthquake tore apart this town

the ground shook as we waged wars.

our picture's not so pretty anymore.


*darling, hush, don't say goodbye
amongst the rubble, I'm sure we'll find
another love; a stabler life
our love was one born to die

tell me everything is going to be alright when he cries.



pat my shoulder. squeeze my hand.
sit by my side.



give me the strength.


the strength not to cry.
the strength to tell him everything will be alright.

let's cut to the chase.


stagger through barely unlocked doorways
tripping off jeans over still-tied shoes
falling onto unmade beds, a mess of belt buckles and baffling buttons

scrambling hands and hungry mouths
exploring every surface within reach

teeth tugging, hair pulling, air- gasping

I want you to want me so badly you forget to breath.



collapse into covers, inviting embrace.
but make no mistake,
boy, let's cut to the chase.


we know where this stumbling, tumbling, fumbling leads.
and it isn't marriage ceremonies.
or happy endings.



inevitabilities.


soon, distance will destroy this life we both lead.


but why would I lead a life of misery
when I can have what is sitting right in front of me?


each second lost, is resolve gained
perhaps if we pretend you're not leaving, nothing will change.




. . . if we can just tell ourselves, May will n e v e r come . . .
                   . . . winter will n e v e r  end . . .
                          



if ignorance is bliss, and there is no escape...
let's lie to each other; let's lie to ourselves.


let's not waste our time; let's cut to the chase.

I need someone to come break my heart.

for the very last time.

uninspired by empty beds and unturned sheets


I need bodies pressed against me

suffocating


stimulating




people are much better companions than pillows



lover, come alleviate these lonely nights

don't love me.

**** my brains out.


don't look into my eyes.

don't tell me I'm beautiful.


just wrap your hand around my throat.

knot your fingers in my hair.


don't wrap your arms around me afterwards.


show yourself to the door.

and please, God, don't say goodbye.

serenade me with silence

...

I look for your affections between the lines...

on napkin corners...

in notebooks, worn with age

...

unclothe me to the metronome of your latest rabbit trail

I won't mind if it is meant for someone else

...

love, I'm asking for nothing more than to share your bed

...

play muse, for a night

or two

...

darling, I think I could be poetic for you.

Oh love,

we're drowning in the monotony of motionless.

forget food, air, coitus

Maslow forgot something- movement.



not even, relocation.

simple movement.


Oh love,

let's pack a bag- buy a map

I feel like falling asleep to east coast sunsets tonight

waking up to Rocky's



wind through hair

sand between toes


let's fly a kite

ride a bike



*let's move *


seated, we die a thousand times


let's break in a pair of new shoes

to an afternoon hike

pack a picnic basket of pb&j;'s


move, darling, move


until our legs give out

and slumber wraps us sweetly in her arms...

in one another's arms...


somewhere far from where we began



move.



conclusions and origins are separate for a reason


life may have symmetry, love

but let's make sure not to mistake that with stagnation.

I'm a risk
Dynamite in the hand
Shake me- to explode

I play with words
-a handful of calligraphy
spill me out
now, let me fly

voice like razorblades
(eat your hear right out of your chest)
and hands of steel
-to keep you still
Boy, move with me

I read you aloud
I've heard your story
Now, write me in...

fill in the blanks with my name
then kiss me 'till I overflow
-let's collide.

(2008)

I fell in love with a place called Rome and an object named the sea.
They caught me up within their arms and ran away with me.
We saw the wonders of the world and kissed the midnight skies.
They crowned me with the mountaintops and spun stars into my eyes.

I needed someone to call mine; I was a Queen without a King.
I found no love in treasure chests filled with diamonds and golden things.
I stole a map to take a trip and found I didn't have a clue.
That all the splendor in the world I'd find when I met you.

( June 24 2009 )

If I never saw the sunrise,
or the dawn of another day,
If I never caught another
longingly look my way.

If I never made my fortune
or earn my claim to fame,
I'd still love you like no other
'Till God took us both away.

April 27, 2009

listen

I don't expect a reaction,
sympathy,
empathy;
a solution.

I don't need your love,
care,
devotion;
or shoulder, even.

I just need your ear.

Perhaps only for a few minutes.

While we're sitting at the bar,
waiting for the bus,
riding in a cab,
or even standing in a long line.

listen.

You may not change my life,
heart,
soul,
or even my mood.

But you will have changed the course of one day.

ONE day          of          MY life.

If only you could understand the significance of just one day.

Cities have been leveled. Towers have fallen. Ships have been sunk.

And though I may not be a Hiroshima, a 9/11, a Pearl Harbor.... I matter.

You don't have to tell stories about me to your grandchildren,
follow me,
attend my funeral;
or remember me, for that matter.

You just need to take a couple of minutes out of your day...
while you're sitting at the bar,
waiting for a bus,
riding in a cab,
or simply standing in a r e a l l y   l  o  n  g   line...

whether you be a stranger,
friend,
lover;
or mother.

listen.

"We all hide behind our wit," she said.

(She had wanted to be Jane Austen, but wound up being Sylvia Plath instead.)

She would never again trust another word. For who would trust a word? More so, a word without action to make sincere its cry? A fool; and she was not a fool.

Her rib-cage, cynical, read: "Love is no longer in vogue, better left to the history books and the firing squads." It wrapped its way around her lungs, a permanent reminder never to hold her breath for anyone. Suffocation was inevitable in this day and age.

Never let down your guard. Never let down your guard.

Steady. Repetition. Her anthem.

...

She found his existence maddening. He made her skin crawl. Made her blood rush. He made her a fool. He had taught her that falling in love and falling were more alike than different. He had shown her that broken hearts were far more painful than broken bones.

She was a pond, and he was a willow. He would create ripples...
She would make waves.

Drowning was more of a promise than a potential. Not a matter of if, but of when.

...

These days, she drowned in seas of laughter.

Wit had become her constant companion. A guide to survival. She had survived him. Had surpassed him, even.

Two steps ahead- always looking back.

She would be the court jester; he, merely, the material for the next good joke.

I long to live a life
worthy of war stories and old western movies.

I hope to have a home
filled with forgotten treasures and faded maps.

I aim to attain an anthology
collect the earth and capture the stars.

I dare to dream of danger
mountains, snow-capped, and moss-covered falls.

I seek to survive a stagnation
poetic poison and perpetual "sub-par."

I please to pursue a perfection
inevitable failure, imperfection- an art.

finish me.

the story begged.
the notebook, barren...
screaming...
of pages yet to be filled.

of ink yet to be spilled.

finish me.
and feed me to the little children.
their greedy eyes and growing minds.

finish me.
the canvas screamed to be clothed.
feeling desperately exposed.

finish me.
finish me.
finish me.

cries drowned out by the everyday obligations of a writer's life.

bottomless.

I never end.

I never began.

I give
           a n d
                      I will keep on giving.

...

repetitive.

dry.

eternally cloudy skies.
with a chance of rain.

no more sunny days.

simply,

superficial.
reeking of worldly successes.

failing to fail at anything at all.

endless.

listen:

"young. promising. driven."

the truth:

empty. silent. a puppet. puppeteer?

...

drained.

But,

no one can stop me.
no one can save me.
no one can stop me.
no one can save me.

save me.

no one can save me.
no one can save.
no one can.
no one.

bottomless.

I give
           a n d
                     I will keep on giving.

after.

after?

wars.
disappointments.

even after this broken heart.

...

no one hires for the heart.
salary isn't determined by sincerity.

no one can stop me.
no one can save me.
no one can stop me.
no one can save me.

no one.

not.
even.
myself.

silence is survival.
distance is determination.

they say that if someone is truly yours, they will come back to you.

they say lots of things.





I
      say
               nothing.