sometimes I don’t want to look for silver linings or talk about timing how things work out as they should
sometimes I want to simply sit down with rejection look it in the eye acknowledge why it’s there without assigning it some universal meaning I want to tell it, I wanted that so badly without hearing reasons why it couldn’t be
it is what it is it isn’t what it never was and I am disappointed
I finally learned how to feel good alone and pull up barstools on my own and that love comes from many different places
then I saw a grey-haired couple on the street he looked at her like you once looked at me I didn’t know how much heartache could come from unfamiliar faces
we learned in science class that pressure makes diamonds out of coal there is so much pressure to be perfect I don’t want to be a flawless cushion cut bought from a velvet case where I was kept on display
I want to be the seafoam green smooth center edges sharp ocean tumbled piece of sea glass someone discovers on the shore and says, she is imperfect but she is exactly what I’ve been looking for
You slide into my inbox and I roll my eyes thinking how our ancestors would roll in their graves under wildly blooming roses the kind of fragrant bouquets they gave one another on a first date a gesture of courtship and respect
they would be so disappointed in the way their Shakespearean love has devolved into self-involved narcissistic lazy digital foreplay
you can save your DM for someone else; I will continue waiting for my rose.
My throat closes when I think of you now I loved you once— I wanted you every day— and part of me loves you still but it would **** me to have you
isn't it funny how something that was once good for us can become the death of us a design by God— or science— who knows
we wake up one day and our bodies have evolved to reject even one taste so violently that it would be a delicate tango between life and death— Russian roulette— to ever have you again
Sweat runs rivers down the planes of my face drip dropping to the asphalt and sizzling there;
I wonder if it's true that I could fry an egg on the tarry New York sidewalk melting under my feet
I think I'd like to try I think I'd also prefer to be that egg in the cool air of aisle 9 where someone will pick it up and take it home and make pancakes laughing with the person they love
Half an orange to help me sleep to help me not think of you to help me shut down my brain like a laptop that's been left on for two weeks straight
I break an orange pill in half tonight I hope it's all I need to help me sleep I toss it back I hope it doesn't get caught in the corners of my throat like all the words I cannot say out loud
I take pills because there's not enough wine to drown out my thinking not enough meditation to quiet the constant hum
I long for a day when sleep did not escape me the night before