Wise men say, only fools rush in
but I can't help falling in love with you.
Shall I stay, would it be a sin
if I can't help falling in love with you.

Do you remember how I would sit up on the deck railing,
and you'd be standing.
You were so tall, my knees touched the side of your chest.
We'd stay like that,
Talking and laughing and laughing,
and kissing.

Like a river flows to the sea
darling so it goes
some things are meant to be.
Take my hand, take my whole life too
for I can't help,
falling in love with you.*

Do you remember that first cruise we took in my little Oldsmobile.
It was like five in the morning in June, but neither of us had any desire to sleep.

We both knew something special was happening.

I drank a bottle of magnesium citrate almost 8 hours ago and now I’m at work really regretting it.

There's a ******* fly that is taunting me in my living room.
I can't get the chance to **** it.
I'm on my second drink, and I'm bummed out that I'm alone.

I'm getting pretty toasted.
And yeah, it doesn't take much.
A joint would be great.
Sorry, I can't finish this poem.
I'm distracted by this documentary I'm watching about Janis Joplin.

I wish I could sleep.
But I hate being in this apartment alone.

When I hear that old school guitar
on the radio
as I'm driving with a cigarette
in hand,
I get that care free teenage feeling.
Tasting the rebellion,
and I remember what it's like
to really have no worries.
To feel free.

I sat and watched my
brindle pitbull
Sophie;
as she stood over the heater,
like the she always does.
Her head hanging down,
ears flapping.
And suddenly I thought about how
one day that will just be a memory
of a dog I used to have,
in my first apartment.
That, like all other moments I wish
I could have pocketed,
this will become the past too.
Maybe, next time she goes *****
in the house,
I won't be so mad.

I pause before I take another step.
"I'm lost." I say out loud.
"You're always lost!"
somebody shouts.

They're right, I know.
And then I take off again.

Sometimes I think about
the things that have happened in
my life.
Mostly, that night I sat on
a rooftop with a boy.
God, I get butterflies just thinking
about it.
It was one of those perfect moments,
like you see in movies and think,
"Nobody does that."
But.. They do.
The lucky ones anyways.
He had his guitar and he said,
" I learned how to play a song
that reminds me of you."
"hey **, by the lumineers."
"Will you sing?"
He asked me so nicely I couldn't say no.
So, he started playing and I started to sing,
and it became this magical thing and I didn't even care about how bad my voice was,
because I was happy.
That song reminded me of him for months after he left.
I couldn't listen to it without wanting to cry.

Sometimes I miss your friendship,
because it felt real.
I still remember some of our times together as some of the best days of my life.
If I needed you, you'd answer the phone.
If you needed me, I'd answer the phone.
We understood each other, and where we were in our lives.
You were my drinking buddy, we were party girls looking for a good time. Never knew where we'd end up.
But we loved each other.
I'd never had a girl as a best friend before.

And then our fun ended the way most does.
You found a guy who ended up making false promises, and you got pregnant.
I tried to stay connected with you,
but you stopped, so eventually I did too.

I found your class ring in my car when I was cleaning it out, a souvenir of my past.

I miss you still. I wonder how you're doing from time to time. Maybe you wonder about me too.
Deanna.

I said it last weekend when I was drunk,
but it will always be true.
You never take advantage of the time of your life that you're in, when you're in it.
And then you spend the next few years feeling nostalgic all the time.
I wish I could record everything about my apartment.
My first apartment.

The birds chirping outside every window, the sound of the cars passing on the state highway.
My loveseat that has become my favorite place in the house,
spending hours watching Netflix and smoking ***.
I turned the big 21 here,
got my Ford explorer,
lived with my first pitbull,
and worked at the first job that made it possible to support myself.

I am going to try to live in these moments. Even if I feel miserable sometimes, I know I will miss all of this some day.

I no longer sleep at night.
I take long naps in the afternoon
that go into late hours.
I smoke cigarettes, watch Netflix,
and eat chicken noodle soup in bed.
It really messes up my opportunity
to get anything done during the day.
But somehow I still managed to get up
around noon to meet my dad in a bar
across town to give him the money
needed to pay for more oil to heat my house.
I always have messy hair,
and I try to stay in my black sweatpants as much as possible.
This is my life as a third shift employee.
It's not glamorous, more dysfunctional.

Is it really a happy new year,
if I wasn't finished with this one.
I didn't achieve enough.
I didn't change enough.
You won't catch me making
a resolution;
life has yet to let me make one decision.
And forget nostalgia.
There isn't any here.
I am trying not to feel sorry for
myself as I sit here alone on
New Year's Eve.
No people, no drinking.
Just me, and a little ****,
and my hand still pulling out my hair.
Plucking away my bangs with ease.

Ah.

Do you know how sometimes you have this one thing that makes you happy, even for a little bit.
Like a drink. A certain kind that's your favorite. You'll drive to three different gas stations looking for it, because nothing else tastes the same.
No matter how hard you look for something else, it never measures up.
That feeling of momentary happiness is gone.
Even if one comes real close, you know it'll never be your favorite.
Well.
You are my sno berry peace tea.
You are it for me.
No matter how hard I try.

I've started to read before bed again.
Not just Bukowski either.
Last night I finished one
and tonight I'm starting another.
It feels good to sit in bed,
before I fall asleep
and go somewhere for awhile.
That's why I've always loved to read.
Escape.
It's Saturday,
well now Sunday.
No boyfriend tonight,
just me and the house
I stubbed out a cigarette
in my makeshift ash tray,
and turned back to the keyboard.
It's time for sleep.

Heavy eyes from the wine,
and the little amount of sleep I've been running on.
It's been a long day.
Went to work at 6 a.m.
Went to Sally's with my sister.
Dyed my hair.
Got ****.
Went to the store.
Home.
Then to my brother's for a little bonfire.
And now I'm home watching Netflix.
I'm sure I'll fall asleep any second.
...
Zzzz

I find poetic moments
in the most unexpected places.
Having this urge to write puts butterflies in my stomach.

It's Saturday night,
and my bed is made
while I'm under the covers.
My pitbull Sophie; is too.

I'm smoking a cigarette,
and my eyes are heavy from a long day, drinks, and ****.
The box fan sounds perfectly in the background.

All is well.

I will always be an emotional *******.
A hopeless romantic, no matter how many times I've been terribly let down by the men in my life.
An adventurous soul that longs for the open road because I grew up in the Midwest where people don't leave. They just go to high school, maybe college, have babies and get married by 21.
Selfishly independent, because I've never really had anyone take care of me the way I needed.
A writer, because I'm a coward who can't correctly say what I feel.

"We are who we are."

I'm still trying to figure out how to like who I am.

I remember a time when
I thought my dad was the greatest
dad there was.
Reading to us before bed,
always calling me sweet pea and
making sure my coat was zipped up,
or that I drank all of my milk.
Taking us to state parks,
with a packed lunch.
He always smelled of black and mild
cigars, a warm leather coat
and cologne.
But his breath held a hint of beer.
Which is why I can remember thinking
that my dad was the worst dad
on earth.
Spending too much money on alcohol,
not helping pay for my clarinet,
getting too drunk at any family
gathering and choosing to
drive.
But now, I accept him for who he is.
And I thank him for all of the wonderful things he taught me about nature, and music, and for allowing my childhood to be filled with adventure.
Now, I don't think my dad is the greatest or the worst,
he's just mine.

Remember the long, hot afternoons,
that turned into endless nights.
Hazy from the *****, and the taste of your lips.
You are so funny.
And you thought I was too.
Something about you..
something makes me feel dangerous.
If we got drinks, I'd be scared that I would flirt.
That you would flirt back.
And what would I even do if you tried to kiss me?
Watching a sunset, when the wind is warm brings me back to you.

I can't even imagine
you thinking about me.

I used to imagine you
dreaming about me.

I spent the first two hours I was awake, crying as I watched the news.
Every channel was talking about the massacre in Orlando.
I was surprised to find myself a sobbing mess, and apparently so was my dog, because she crawled up beside me trying to lick away my tears and let me hug her, but I couldn't stop.
I have no words to describe the sadness I feel for the victims and their families.
Also, for my country.
I am frightened because I know there is more to come, except there's no way to tell when or where.
It's so easy to not realize what's happening in the world, when you have every day problems that distract you from the global pain.
I wish there was something I could do, to save the people on this planet, to save my home.

No one knows how much I miss you.

How I have just loomed about from place to place,
since you've been gone.

Sometimes I imagine you are with me.
In the car when a good song comes on.
In bed, as I fall asleep.
Smoking a joint on the couch.

I always say I got sick of my exes and that's why it never worked out.
But I know I never would've gotten sick of you.

I carry those memories,
that are so far away, like a dream.
And you have just become a ghost.
Well, more like an angel that once visited me.

I miss you, you know.

Hey there love,
I've just stopped by to see how you are.
How's life treating you so far.
I've been good ya know?
But I've been better.
I'm looking forward to colder weather.
I'd love to sit and talk with you..
but I know that's something I can't do.
Although, that's okay.
It's alright.
I'm just a little drunk tonight.

Even when I was going through it,
I didn't think I was.
And even now, sometimes I forget that I made it.
About three years ago now,
I fell deeply, madly, in love with someone that I definitely shouldn't have.
I was only "with" him for about a month or two, but I was the happiest I've ever been because of him.
I was in love after three days of knowing him.
And when he broke it off with me,
it really felt like my whole life just fell apart.
I came over early in the morning, unknowing, and we sat in his garage and I just cried, and begged and finally said okay.
I didn't go home right away, we hungout and went to get some **** so we could both feel better.
But then, when I did go home and realized he wasn't going to text me, I lost it.
I started drinking all the time, stopped smiling, and the pain I felt was unbearable.
And I thought I would never get over him, I thought about him every day up until this past year.
And now, I'm proud of myself and know that I can get through any break up or bad situation and come out so much stronger.
I have done so many things that I never thought possible.
And even more good things are to come.
I turn 21 in two days, when I met him I was newly 18.
I learned a life lesson early on, but I think that I was supposed to.
I needed to become stronger to end up where I am today.
And I am happy to have had true real love, even if I never do again.
At least I got to know what it feels like.
Time heals everything. It's the only thing that actually does.

I saw myself in beautiful binding.
A hard, solid cover with medieval art
of a girl with blonde hair.
A long sad story lay within the wrinkled pages.
The story of a girl who could never
be happy.