What’s one more broken heart?
Theirs or mine.
It’s like taking another drink, seven and a half ounces of Stoli in.
It doesn’t matter at that point.
The taste of love has long since been dulled
burned out of my mouth.
It used to be a sweep of a hand made my cheeks blush
but no more.
So simple a child’s mind is. A better understanding of love they have
than this fading soul.
And to friendship, the thing that makes all of this possible.
I have blown that bridge to pieces, the shattered remains lodged in my hands
my feet
my mind
haunting what I once believed I controlled --
I did not need some lover as long as I had my companions.
They deserve more. Deserved more.

I have betrayed forever

My poems are pure angst.  

Why can't I write a sentence more than ten words?

I gagged a bit re-reading some.

Actually most of them.

Okay all of them.

God bless you if you've read more than one.

This is writing about forgiveness.
It is about failure.
Do me a favor and think about a time that you have failed.
I can't think of one instance -
there's too many.
But this one will do.

I see the look on his face when I tell him I know.
Not acting.
A sadness created by a downward spiral three years ago.
And **** who am I to judge when I have not left mine?

And if it was an act he got me.
Things are complicated;
he can feel regret and still be self pitying.
At the end there was a moment when it rubbed me wrong, still.
He still blamed other people.
God I wish I knew what really happened
but only he does.

When an object is attached to a string and traveling in a circle it exits the path in a straight line ahead.
There are infinite points on a circle for the object to exit.

I see that same face on the girl who believed I stole her boyfriend from her.
I see that same face on the guy I told I didn't want to have *** with him anymore, on his birthday.
I see that same face on me, when the guy I had *** with counted me as a number. On a video.

Is the circle the person stuck in a spiral or is it the person looking down at the ball and string with a pair of scissors?

I am looking for confirmation that I am not crazy for wanting to forgive him for something he didn't do to me. He did it in the world I happen to inhabit but is it my civic duty, human duty, human right, friendship right to place him in a spot of an outcast? Everyone else has.

To your smile that lights up a room,
I curse you.
Because everything about you enamors me
To the point that I have not spoken to you
In months and yet I remember the last words of our conversations.

I cannot bear to look at those lips
That I have fantasized over time and time again,
That I’ve tried so hard to forget
On the mouths of other men.

How can I call you a man?  

Disrespect is all I hear when someone mentions your name,
But who can blame the blameless victim,
Of some tortured past that I know not?
And you just stand there and smile.
You know the part of me you have captured.

Should I feel so enraptured,
By the man who swoops in on innocent (?) souls
And makes them feel something
Special.

Is it all a game to you?

The nights I still spend sitting here
Agonizing over a fling of little proportion.
But I suppose that’s just the way I am
Falling for people all too fast
Paying no mind the inevitable gravity that will force me to crash.

It is all too familiar
This love that keeps me spiraling.
For it has happened once before;
Replaced by yours.

And I have not even graced your lips.

It was what I expected.
God, it was good.
Your words wrapped me like a hug. Again.
And I know I have to let it be,
never to talk again,
but just this once I'll admit it.
You are the most curious person I've ever met.
You'll always peak the curiosity out of me.

You
Your smile
Your arms.
Me.
One look
One confession
One acceptance.
Two weeks,
Love.
Long distance
Doubt.
Your voice.
Labels.
Intimacy.

Just all of you.

I have chosen what I think
Will be the right course of action.
Then again,
I didn’t really choose it.

So before I wrote of an other,
And he has chosen his path, so it seems.
He hasn’t actually confronted me.
But females do have this sense
Of where something should end,
Whether or not we choose to listen to
The little man inside our brains.

This little man
Will eventually be quieted
Which scares us even more.

The trouble is sometimes the little man only whispers
In our ears and so it is easy to miss,
Or hallucinate.

I cannot tell what is happening with my little man.
He speaks of grandeur and ruin,
But which he cannot predict.
Of which I cannot predict,
Because the little man is me,
And I am the determiner
Of my actions.

The only thing I seem to be sure of
Is that I know what I want,
But not what is real.
Am I imagining chemistry
With the one person who takes me for who I am
And doesn’t try to change or shape me into a certain kind of mold?

But then again have I been molded
By life and experience
Into a new person that is not confident,
But arrogant?

I expect boys to fall at my feet,
Like I am a ******* goddess of some sort,
But that’s not who I actually am.
He calls my bluff,
But he still thinks I deserve good,
Just not a God.
I don’t think he considers himself a God.
But also I don’t think he considers me
As his romantic love.
Just a love-stricken,
Love-obsessive
Girl.

You'll be amazed what she will accomplish

           now that she had been through it all.

It's you again.
Clearly I have
a short memory
Because, somehow here
we are. Roles
seem a bit
more reversed this
time. You have
the world to
conquer, and I
have the chance
to watch as
you grasp your
happy ending.

Congratulations, you deserve it.

I have
this nagging habit of
not saying what I
mean. You are growing
and that is all
good and well and
I have the small
problem of wanting to
steal away your time.

Excuse me I know
that's selfish but I
am making up for lost
time. You see, I also
need the reminder to
breath and take care of
myself. Unfortunately, I know
staying in a relationship
with an emotionally unavailable
human hurts more at the end. The
labels don't matter. The time spent in
the same room in each other's company
will ultimately lead to the same feelings
and if you are unwilling to spend the time
to do so we will drift apart. I'm not saying that
feelings are a definite, and I'm not saying that you
don't feel similarly but I am feeling vulnerable and what I
know is I am comfortable in your friendship.
But we are already past friendship. And you
willingly stepped into that role, but
what I haven't told you is how long
it took me to step into it.

I get attached,
and I bounce
from one human
to the next
but out of
necessity you have
closed off your
ability to be attached
for long term.
I was just
warming up to
the idea. No
expectations is an
arrangement that I
have participated in
for a long time.
That path only goes so far.
I am not afraid of an end,
but limiting the scope of what
we are allowed to feel
hurts the friendship.
Distanced, we are,
from human connection
which is what this is all about.
At least from my end.
Put your trust in me. When
it's over, we will know.

He stands at the sideline, cheering without a clue.

A smiley face becomes a sunrise on my screen.

He wears his cologne.

I catch his eyes, when we both weren’t looking.

Each hug lingers a few more seconds.

When I do something silly, a voice, a crazy dance – I find him right beside me, doing the same exact thing.

Conversation flows, tumbling over and over.

Nothing is out of bounds.

I remember meeting you last year,
you still had a girlfriend.

You sat in the corner of your apartment
while the party continued around you.

We talked a little bit,
you seemed nice.

Then I met you again this year,
and you made me smile.

I said you could stay with me for the night,
if you needed, so you didn't have to go so far home.

And I didn't know what to do,
it was just an offer, not an expectation.

So we both got changed into clothes to sleep in,
and we stood there like idiots.

I felt so vulnerable.
You felt lost.

And finally you closed the space between us
and kissed me.

You thought of someone else
who hurt you.

And you told me after
that she was still on your mind.

So I left it at that night
confused but not mad.

A few weeks go by
and there was one time randomly

I wanted to see you again
but you weren't ready, yet.

And it's the only time I've
cried while drunk.

Then one day you texted me - I know this is weird,
but if you wanted, you could come over and I can make you dinner.

We watched TV
and then I went home.

The next night we hung out again
and then we did constantly.

We didn't talk about what happened before
and it chewed at me.

So I asked
and you answered

that I made you happy
when you were so tired of being sad.

I knew that you still weren't there
but I was getting hooked

on the attention that you gave me.
Not the bad kind.

The kind where you texted me good morning
and knew what was important to me.

But she was still on your mind,
and I was just a filler.

There was going to be a span of time where we
didn't see each other.

I was going to end it there.
But that is not what happened.

After the time we still saw each other
and I knew I was getting to that point

where I was falling.
I thought I could just stop it.

And finally I had to,
because you weren't ready for more

But now I see I should've held on.
I'm leaving soon.

I know this is weird,
but if you wanted, you could come over and I can make you dinner.

For the first time ever I am going to say this.
I am in love with you,
Realized it four months too late,
Seven months now I am willing to say it aloud -
I ended the relationship.
It's all on me.

You found someone to love, it's what you do.
And from what I see in pictures she loves you back, too.

I am trying to hold myself back from loving you.

So far I have seemed to succeed
Except for the fact that I think of you everyday.

But then there you were when I wasn’t thinking about you.

A proximity that occurs due only to chance
Because we live in a small world.

Some call that fate.

But fate cannot change the entanglements
of politics and friendship.

I have alliances that cannot be broken just as much as you.

Neither of us wants complication,
Just a quid pro quo relationship that can end at our will.

It will end at your will.

I, however, am left strangling the misconception
That friendship is a precursor to love.

I wrote a happy ending for you.
You found this girl;
she was the bees knees.
I liked her.

She wrote the end of the songs
you had already been singing.

She liked the mushrooms and the spinach
in the omelets you made.

She watched baseball
and made videos
and bought the posters to cover the walls of your apartment.
That space was not home without her touch.

I wrote your smile that opened when she walked down the aisle.
I wrote the arguments which threatened to tear you apart.
I wrote the good times that held it together.

I’ve written this, for you.

If only this lusting would pass.
If only you would bring me.
If only I hadn’t messed up.

But that is a past I cannot afford to think about.
Enjoy the attention, she says. I can’t.
For a promise lingers on the horizon of some happily ever after.

What a load of



something?

They may be on to it,
this thing they call love.

If only I had any clue.

Stuck in a great divide of non-commitment and grasping at thin air.
(Is that even a sentence worth writing?)

For I haven’t made any great decision. A cop out. Or coping?

Laying in my bed
airplanes overhead
trains clack along
cars spout music I can't understand

Poster on the wall moved by the wind
drapes dance, tied to the souls
that still waltz among us.

The heat weighs down
constraining me to my thoughts.

Don't fall asleep, there are worse places than this.
Leave them to tomorrow.

Too many mistakes have happened these past few days.
Well months.
Years, actually.
        I meant all of it.
I laid against skeletons and believed in their words,
So I thought it was my turn to say those magic things,
and not feel the warmth spread over my skin.
Just let it be.
I missed out the most;
on this
person.
He didn't disappear,
or turn into an ****. I saw the end at the beginning, and my friends and I - we waved him off as a casualty of a casual time.
I cannot help but wonder.
Did a lack of butterflies mean he was not right,
or that I was not ready?
I was heading backwards, immature but not particularly dumb.
In fact a bit of maturity is needed in casual relationships -
Arguably more than a traditional one.
And that is where I faulted.
I was ready, oh so ready for something permanent
but unwilling to wait. Too ignorant to know
none of this is permanent.
He is a good one.
I wasted away.

I have to admit I am caught between storms -
Of friendship
Of love
Of lust

And I cannot imagine one without the other two,
A trifecta of an immeasurable soul.

Because I have a deep sense of attachment to each part of this
Relationship
That now has inconceivably doubled:
I like you both.

And now I am caught in this dichotomy of I think of the other,
I smile with the other,
Which one should be the other?

He wants me to give more of myself,
While he does more than I.

Which do I put myself out for?

What if, in this scenario, I gave a part of myself to the second,
That I haven’t to the first?
I did.

But the first has taken a part of me that is deeper,
Below the skin, the surface.
And challenges me to the extent that
He knows who I am and where I’ve been.

And what about today?
Disclosing his failed attempts with his last lovers,
Not making me one,
But taking my trust and putting it in the palm of his hand?

But then there’s the second,
Who in what small measure
Has managed to smear my concept of time
And gave everything in the palm of his hand.

A whirlwind of staying up all-night and sharing
These small hours,
Imprinting him on my mind.

Who is safer?

There isn't a person to call
here at 1am.
My person, significant other, partner, love, whatever you choose to call it.
Some friends
but I don't dare because
I've used them.
I'm sorry for that.
And I wish I could just be comfortable here
in my skin;
but I am not.
Craving affection, attention, assurance
but all I've known for the most part is a falsehood.
A lie crafted in the imagination, my imagination,
that these people I've trusted so fast
were as willing. I leap into fantasy.
And even though I know this each time I still do it, expecting a different result.
That's the definition of stupidity.
Perhaps one day I'll run into someone the same kind of stupid
and we'll be ready at the same time.
A fool's errand.

Finally, someone to stick around again.
Too bad we don't know what will happen in two months.
I'm graduating, you're just starting out.

Too bad we don't know what's going to happen in two days.  
Whatever these two weeks were is probably over already.

I hate Valentine's Day.
I'm angry with God for always making it
the worst time of year
in my love life.

Back to that thing that might end it all.
I find out officially this week.

Maybe you were carrying it, maybe I was.
Both of us were careless enough about it, so it doesn't really matter.
Perhaps you will surprise me, and come to the conclusion we can work through it.
Perhaps you have it, too. Then it doesn't matter.
Hopefully you don't.
I have to let you decide what you are willing to risk.
I can't ask you to risk anything for me.  

What's worse? Telling you or imagining the scenarios that will come of it
God, please don't let me cry.

It's only been two weeks. This may have been over in a day but now the possibility isn't even there.

**** this, **** that, **** my ******* habit.

I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for you. Why couldn't I just have been happy with myself, for once?

Tonight I wanted to be looked at.
So I did my hair
  washed my face
    lined my lips.
My *** hung out
  my rack pushed up
    oh, am I making you uncomfortable?
It's actually a classy jumpsuit.
Am I asking for it?
I asked for a gaze, but I doubt anyone actually saw me.
We are too adsorbed in what everyone is thinking about us,
so we don't see anyone.

Stay,
digging
and digging.

The rocks are sharp
and tear away at skin
until rawness
sets into the muscles.

The air is too thin
to fill the lungs to send the spark
that jolt bones into action.

Blacker and blacker.

Climb up?

The tunnel has turned and twisted, the way back,
collapsed because the structure wasn't strong enough
in the first place.

The new landing point is unfamiliar.
The darkness, however, is an old friend.

Opening a heart is ripping apart a cage.
People talk of keys, but I have
Been locked away without light.

And then I saw
Us walking down the street
Later than we should have been
And I kept hoping you wouldn’t notice how I stumbled.

It wasn’t much
But a fleeting time
Wasting nights and
Stealing days.

And then I --
Sitting in a stairwell
Later than it should have been
Hoping that you noticed how I stumbled
Upon you.

But it wasn’t much
But a fleeting time
Wasting nights and
Stealing days.

And I noticed that while I had stumbled upon you,
You didn’t catch me.

It wasn’t much.
But a fleeting time.
Wasting nights and
Stealing days.

The thought of you, and what had been.

And then I dreamed
Us walking down the street
Later than it should have been
For the kids
And you stumbled into me.

It wasn’t much
But a fleeting fantasy.
Wasting nights and stealing days.

Alice took him out to the mountains she had once driven, and they sat on a pull off in front of a scene that replays in memory.

“He brought me out here, and we hiked,” she started. “He asked if I was considering moving here. And I answered truthfully. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I have things I need to finish in New York.’ And I kept walking. But I remember pausing under the trees, and smelling the pine, and seeing his white cap placed backwards on his head as he drove, and the music that carried us up and over the mountains. ‘But then again, how could you not love this?’ I said as I spun around under those trees. What I meant was how could I explain that I had loved him enough to move, but really the winds were telling me that this is my land. That my soul had been here before, and that I had to return here. He is a love that propelled me to the things I needed to go to. And that was all that ever would be. I am grateful for that love that convinced me to move west, even if it wasn’t what I expected it to be. Even though that was never the love that was meant to be.”

She turned to him.

“But what I was meant to say at that time, and the times before to that love and chose not to, was that I loved him. And I couldn’t say it then, because I didn’t have the vocabulary to say what needed to be said.

What I mean to say to you now, new love, is that I feel softer when you are around. I have felt softer around you than I have felt in a long time around someone. I am grateful to know you, and to have known you as I have. And I may not be the love that you are looking for, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been happy to include you in my story, as I had with old love before. We are tapestries of that love, and somehow it is all tied together in ways we could never imagine.”

“How do you mean?” He asked.

“Oh well when I was home with Old Love for the first time, and woke up in the morning, we watched Indiana Jones and made food. A lot like what we did the other night. And you couldn’t have known where that film rested in my heart, but for some reason that is the one you had chosen to watch with me and make food.

So it felt familiar, like that feeling of slowly opening again. And on the way home I saw a coyote in the middle of the city, running around, telling me that it was a story that I had to revisit again.

The weavers of the universe are weaving some great story, and we sometimes just have to wait for the threads to continue to play out. I don’t know why our paths in particular have crossed, or if it’ll be greater than it already has. But don’t turn away from your story, just yet.”

The pair sat and listened to the wind blow across the valley, and watched as a spider dropped from a tree in front of them. A sports car flew around the corner, waking them from their reverie. Neither said anything more, but got back in the car and went back to their own beds.

Backwards seem things
First,
     Passion.

Second,
Research.
Third,
Develop.

All scrambled too much to go in queue.


“Who says there can’t be dialogue in poetry”
Pursuing without skill,
Bumbling batches of braying people believe in entitlement.

(It is best to also avoid alliteration)

Pursuing without skill,
                           People believe in entitlement.

All meaningless scribbles across the page

You like it?

I have no job.
No finances.
And less skills than I would have hoped
leaving college.

But I have that piece of paper.
A roof over my head, still.
Some prospects of potential things on the horizon.

Everyone expects that once you graduate you can leave.
But then scoffs at you when you get into debt
for putting too much on credit cards.

I am sorry I can't afford to go get an oil change.
But I know I can't afford not to.

When your family almost loses their house,
and can on a daily basis
be called by debt collectors on final notice of some bill
we cannot afford to pay -
suddenly life is a bit too real to think that downing a bottle of
your choice
will magically make it go away.

Surprise. I don't want to be dependent anymore.
I want to work 80 hours a week
knowing that in ten years I will be able to afford that one dinner out.

Not only that we have leaders of our nation that will change everything
you believe to be good
and will implement everything
you believe to be bad.

That bubble rises.

A noose around my neck
of money drying up
it feels like I should put some semblance of beauty to work
and find some person to take care of me

No. I can find a way to support myself
with the skills I have learned at school.
Other students have before me
worked off the debt of higher education
and so will I.
Jobs will open up.
Opportunity will knock.
Failure will happen, but so will success.

Just one step at a time
not in front of the train like I have thought about
but forward towards true uncertainty of the future.

Don't worry, I will be still be here tomorrow and tomorrow.
as a force you didn't realize was there.
One day you might even remember my name.

Each time I write an ending I am faced with my past failures.
The people I have put my faith in have not worked and really
that's okay.
But when you look at their profile and see them smiling with someone else, a little part aches.
I am happy for them.
And I remember why I was interested -

I hope they feel the same.
Perhaps I wasn't just some ink blot on this timeline.
But even if, at least I made some sort of mark.

I wonder what my first love would think if I told him I still have the lanyard he gave me hanging on the shelf of my dorm room.

I wonder what they think when they think of me.