"Dry Clean Linen Pants"

A note, a promise
a then-future, now-past version of someone I wanted
to be.
it all seems so silly now
dry cleaning and linen pants belong to generation I haven't grown
into
these things belong in the routine of my grandmother, muttering her to-do list as she wakes. A woman of rhythm.
a note on a whiteboard underneath the word "thursday"
it reads: *dry clean linen pants

more of a promise
to take care of yourself
or at the very least
maintain your
armor.

I never quite  noticed how many places a single person could be at once
until the day you were gone

my hands are slightly colder,
without yours intertwined to keep them warm

my bed is a bit emptier
without you to take up all the room

the crevice between my neck and shoulder
where I used to feel your warm breath now hangs with stale air

mix tapes overflowing with rhyme and melody
play with echoes through my car stereo
there's no one listening anymore

He was a crossword puzzle in the local paper
and a raspberry danish with coffee on Sunday mornings &
an extra pinch of salt at dinner
or two.
He was a constant battle of Grampy vs. the squirrels
that raided the the birdfeeder
He was a top drawer candy stash and show tunes playing through the house
And 10 over when hitting those speed bumps
He was the only man I knew that would take his dentures out at DiMillos
& for those of you that don't know DiMillos, it's not the type of restaurant for such things
He was a broken belt on Thanksgiving,
but that wouldn't stop him until his pants were around his ankles
One thing always told me, "I'm gonna fall asleep before my head hits the pillow!" Which always left me in a state of curiosity
I can still hear his voice saying that one line from that one movie..
'You're the guy who overfed my goldfish'
and I'll never forget the way he replied whenever Nana scolded him
'Yes, lovey'
For all of the things my grandfather was, and always will be
He'll be remembered as a neighbor, a father, a husband,
And an amazing grandfather

we expose tiny pieces of ourselves
shards of bare skin, constricted by vulnerability
as if sharing a blanket in a snowstorm
and in order to help your other half stay warm,
one must expose tiny pieces
bear with the bad, to
share the good
warmth

too tired to write poetry for tonight
eyelids are falling the way I fell into your lap that night
you were on that "home-made ****" as I drowned in something exotic
I laugh when I think of it
because it seems ridiculous that two people
on opposite ends of the spectrum
can share something so moonstruck

when something wonderful is happening,
you notice the small details like time and the way his laugh skips a beat on his hurried breath
As time goes on, the newness of what was wonderful is gradually slipping away
instead you start to see things in a way you never did before
like the way he talks about his sister, with a twinkle in his eye
or when you hear his phone go off, but he doesn't check it because you're telling a story
"her voice is getting loud again.. and now with the corny jokes? she's something else
and you know he's only putting up with you because
it's worth it

and it's wonderful again

I have come to memorize the simple things like, your face or the way you look at me when I laugh
it's your voice I'm trying to find
I see your lips moving
and your sculpted teeth
and the way your eyes crinkle up into a smile
but your mouth omits those sounds of a stranger
a blend of noises I have heard before
but where's your voice? I can't hear it but
I can see it
                                                              ­             [you are lovely]

1 year, 1 month, and 17 days later, here I am. There you are.
I had seen pictures before, but none of them spoke to me in a way quite like this one
maybe it was your smile; the crooked one that hides your imperfect teeth because you're too ashamed to be unique
maybe it was your expression; one brow slightly raised above the other in a permanent look of bewilderment
almost like that "I-know-you're-mad-at-me-but-I-love-you" look you used to give me.
you always told me you hated the way the hair landed on the back of your neck, so you kept it short
and ****** hair made you itch, so you kept a clean face
but now your cares have gone to the wind, I see
with your shaggy hair and scruffy face...
But I bet she likes it

I can't shake the memory of you or
remembering the feel of that cold black leather couch
on my back
or your breath on my neck
asking questions I didn't have the answers to
Shh.
our friends are asleep
Shh.

you left just as quickly as you had come
but you still kissed me goodbye
you told me what my name was, and the town I lived in
like you cared or something
you didn't want to forget me,
or something..
I didn't even know you
but I loved [what] you [gave me]
that one night.
you said that you wanted to see me again,
that you weren't going to forget
but I'm the one who can't seem to shake you
a kiss at 6am is just as deadly as the one at 2am
two kisses was all it took, to permeate yourself into my heart
now you'll always be that boy
from that town, just out of my reach
who gave me, in one night,
what some girls crave for a lifetime
my love~

Just when I thought I'd forgotten how to feel
You jumped into my life
no, you took a swan dive into the deep end
You've taken me places I've never seen before
like the back roads of this town
or the bridge you used to jump off during the summer.
I've learned things about myself, that I never knew
until I met you

she wasn't thinking straight; her thoughts flowing with images of you*

a drive to the ocean on a day too cold for beach-going, you two still walked the sand
there was talk about things neither of you really cared about
but it was too soon for the conversations about things you did
or that night in the in the field, while your friends searched the sky for shooting stars
she was busy searching your eyes, her own set of stars.

i'll tell you things about myself
that don't really matter and
you'll tell me things about yourself
that I already know
because what really matters is
what doesn't at all

show me who you are, every nook and cranny
but wait,
don't take your pants off just yet.
I want to strip you
of your fears
and your worries
and your doubts
until all that's left are the bones that comprise your being
and the networks of dreams and ambitions
that run through your very core

I loved you in better weather
when the days were long, and the nights even longer
since then I've waited
and maybe the good only comes with better weather
until the day when the rain fell
and you told me you loved me

everything is empty
my hands, now searching for something to hold
my sight, where your grace is nowhere to be found
the passenger seat, where you'd sing under your breath
because you didn't think I could hear you
I still don't seem to understand how my head is an overflowing mess
yet a hollow heart remains
because you took it
with you

midnight has never tasted so sentimental
the cool, damp air of a fresh rain
lingers on my skin.

I am awake because of her
the rain, she whispered to me,
her harmonies gently shook me
as if she wanted me to feel these emotions

emotions only one can feel on a night like this
cold. alone. nostalgic.
1:31 seems to be my time lately
to muse over my thoughts
gather them together and put away
for now
till later
when she comes for me again
another night
when the rain falls

[1:31am]
they say that drunken words are sober thoughts
I was never one to believe such a thing
until my phone rang and it was you

you have a way with words, slow yet satisfying
I held on to every slur and stutter.
as if it meant something
because to me, it did

maybe you'll remember
but even if you don't
I'll know you were still thinking of me
in your toxic state of mind

with nowhere to go, the streets were our canvas
and we were going to paint them gold.
my mind was racing, heartbeat fast-pacing
with all my cares left out in the cold.
one twenty-six in the morning,
current location: somewhere between fearlessness and the cinema parking lot
destination: midnight

my body is a map
lines and dashes leading to the treasure
that lies in my chest
not a chest of wood and brass, bolted together and sealed with a secret..
but more of an empty cavity where the ultimate gold is finding a heart
that beats with such fire and passion that even the roughest and toughest of outlaws
secretly hope they do not have to come across such a prize
for what do you do with love?

it's one of those nights where no amounts of
raw cookie dough or
ed sheeran or
fuzzy blankets
can block you from entering my mind

there's a song that plays for her
over and over
but each time
something changes;
a note is forgotten or
the rhythm is off by a beat or
it drops off and never finishes
she won't lose hope,
because one day
her song will be completed

blanket my sorrow under pretty white flakes
freeze the memories beneath cold waters
carry away my heartache on frosty winds
oh, dear snow,
fall until there's nothing left
swallow me whole
help me to forget
just a bit longer
maybe come spring time
I'll be just a little stronger.

I saw your hand
reach for mine
in the back of the car
on a late night ride
elation consumed my head, and
crushing disappointment followed
when I opened my eyes
to the ceiling
of my bedroom

I thought about you
and I texted you
the floodgates gave way
and I knew right then
I was letting go
and giving up
for just one night I could cry
again.

a rush of wind,
gazing at stars high above
chemical substances just don't cut it for me
the thrill of secrets at 2am
is enough to send shivers down my spine.

I stand in front of this mirror;
your thoughts, on the other side.
it's not just any mirror, no,
it's clouded and unrefined.

I try to wipe away confusion,
but all my efforts go to waste.
for when I've thought "I'm nearly done!"
the fog is soon replaced.

what are you thinking, over there?
I'd surely love to know
"not today" he sweetly said
"for I have got to go."

the silence of an unspoken word
occupies the mind.
questions swim around,
"what if" and "how come"
what if I tried harder?
or maybe less,
then he'd miss me.

it's not the way you'd kiss me oh-so nervously for the first time, or
how your hand would secretly find mine, during a lazy day movie;
it wouldn't be the way you'd say my name with a lisp on the "S",
or hearing that laugh of yours or looking at your strikingly-blue eyes
that I'm falling in love with

but it's the thought of someone coming along
and giving me the time of day, and tensing my nerves
or my heart flutter  
or my head spin
the idea that I would feel something again
is what I'm falling for the most.

This boy that you've never particularly given a second thought, suddenly engulfs your thoughts. Always friends but never anything more. Sure, he was always cute and funny but it was never the right time or he was with her or you were with him. Now both of you have grown; his long shaggy hair turned into a short, perfectly-tousled mess and you, now moved away with a few broken hearts along the way.*

Here you sit in a room full of friends, yet his hands are the only ones that yours long to be held in.
10 minutes
his arm finds it's way around your hips, in-between couch pillows and small talk.
it's all right, nobody's watching. part of you doesn't want them to. a secret shared by body language, a secret hanging in the air between the two of you.
6 minutes
excitement is building, tension in the air growing heavier with each anticipated sideways glance.
your hand slowly inches across your body, blindly stumbling onto his. finally
2 minutes
your mind is racing with impossible thoughts as your fingers intertwine, still hidden,
a secret to be carried over to the new year.
:15
your muscles tighten, stomach fluttering
:11
new beginnings and second chances, spontaneity right?
:06
his arm pulls you closer, tighter.
:04
your body is overwhelmed with shivers and anxiety
:00
the television is flashing images of couples with their lips meeting, midnight kisses.
he turns to you and thats' it. emotionally, you're a goner.
he leans forward and he hugs you. and that's it. and you're okay with that.

mothers and fathers, without their child.
siblings, without their brothers and sisters.
the young and the innocent, killed in an act of anger and hatred
by a man who didn't even know their first name.
26 families with presents under a tree, never to be opened.
futures and potential, never to be fulfilled.
promises, regrets, last-words and mistakes.
these are the things that 26 families will be remembering this holiday season.
A time for joy and celebration, only a reminder
of the deepening hole in their hearts.

one is such an innocent number.
soon enough, one becomes two.
two slips into three,
three mysteriously becomes four.
soon enough, you've got an addiction on your hands.

In over my head as if I'm the little kid doing a nosedive in the deep end, because I'm invincible.
Why do we do it?
Why are we constantly putting ourselves in situations that ultimately end up hurting us?
It's only human nature to crave love. To need love.
In the end, no matter how badly we get burned, we still have our memories to hold onto,
carefully choosing the ones that make us the happiest, the ones worth remembering.
Late night texts that we read and re-read, smiling at messages from a boy through a touchscreen.
Elation, giddiness, emotions creating such a high that we cling to every moment of it.
To experience the feeling that someone out there, even for a second, cares about you...
Nothing beats that, because invincibility cannot be beat.

These daydreams, they remind me of a sunset,
with blurry beginnings and abrupt ends.
You see, reality can be so easily blind-sided by imagination,
a wonderful thing actually.
Reality is dark, and when it wants a turn,
nothing goes down harder than a shot of real-life.
Next thing you know, the sun is gone, replaced by night,
and you're left in a daze, desperately trying to
reach back into your mind and escape for just a few more seconds.
*because you're afraid of the dark.

And just like that
my heart is racing,
with things I don't yet know
people I have yet to meet
and places I long to visit.

You and I are like summertime;
You are the warm breeze that brushes the hair across my back, tickling.
I return the favor by tickling you with silly faces and sarcastic remarks.
You are the stars that come out late at night, twinkling against the navy sky.
I am the pair of eyes that light up when they meet your own.
You are the butterflies that have found a home in the depths of my stomach,
like the same ones I watch flutter around so beautifully innocent.
You are the sand that becomes so accustomed to being kissed by my salty waves, and then..
Then, low tide arrives.
The warm breezes turn chilled, leaving behind goosebumps instead of laughter.
Stars that once shone so bright become blurred into overcast skies
All good things must come to an end, and they do just that.