early morning heavy bag with nothing else but hopeful they said theyd be there soon you say youll be there later catan at engineering noon was bittersweet flavored
water in the kettle barely touched the mech on the table last day tears in the after shelter mental i was in the ceramics studio when you arrived when it all came together rivers of slip and clay and dip and dip and swing
keeping printing lately squinting we helped to bring the paper you disappeared concerning feared but just for shoes in your backseat
sparkled nails on the church's floor behind the curtain essay typin ping pong flyin wild story improv timin next to those shoes scrollin and the topic was ace so i dont know if its my place but as we left the lack of open doors was odd/ so then came back to the front lawn of god to give you a plastic bag of support keepin rapport in some way of some sort gracious hospitality that it wasnt raining though when we were waiting there were trains and there was dogs/ but soon hes gone and hugged and loved
and now im in the front seat; and then im in the drivers.
back window fogged, behind the wheel with you beside me reel and keel my necks still sore two days later just like my brain that needs a stapler because i couldnt look at you im scared of being fake but then/ music's meant to sing i went to bed at 1 am i dont regret a thing
ah. its been a minute been around the block with my train ticket travelin wicked fast with it in my hand missin all the scenery but bland cause it not much train dont stop for no **** but its your choice to go sit to stay put and know this that you can jump ship itll keep you in hold you down whisk you away make you forget why you just woke up today just chuggin along takin its time but speeding for fun got you rugged but calm, just restin in some methodical thoughts it could sweep you in routines hypnotic youll not remember the windows again hear yourself in your head but instead coast through life leaving living on read you gotta open the door lean out feel the wind but keep it open for sure the grounds whippin by but youll be just fine one step more tuck n roll, breathe.
He goes on to write me a paragraph about how he hit traffic on the way to work and then work was fine but he had to do some extra cleaning to make up for his coworker showing up late and then he went home and did his volunteer work and his roommate's cat did something cute.
Then he stops.
I respond to each part of his recap. I'm glad he told me and I'm happy to listen.
But I don't say "Aren't you going to ask me to elaborate?" I don't say "I set you up to ask me again." I don't say "Don't you care about why my day was 'up and down'?"
I don't say this because then he would ask me again. But I don't want him to ask me again because I asked him to ask me. I just want him to ask me. I know he already asked me. I don't know why, but I need him to ask me twice.
Blame it on the way I was raised. Blame it on him not knowing how to have a conversation. I didn't even know this was bugging me until I was writing this down.
We never have conversations. We both just make comments and then return to silence. He doesn't know how to ask questions And I won't allow myself to say anything unless directly requested.
So I leave my hints and he doesn't take them. I make my jokes, and he just chuckles like he's trying make a bad comedian feel better.
He asks me how my day was and I say it was up and down and he doesn't ask me what happened. I know he meant that in the first question.
a city made of plastic ******* with elastic torn between a tourist trap and locals who just want it back
i thought you cared the most guess i held too close you fell like sand through my fingers i couldn't see you any clearer loved you with all my might guess i held too tight i knew you'd crumble from the start like a blade straight through my heart
when sorrow is safety and joy is fear everything is wrong here one fleeting moment is wrecked just because i realized what i felt i'm so tired of being lonely and so scared of intimacy i'm an open book that's terrified scared of what you'll see inside
want to have a whole committee but i'm not that kind of city i'll welcome you with open arms and then i'll sound the alarms
I lost the plot and that's fine I lost my mind within the lines of my aquamarine journal oh the feelings it holds under lock and key oh the feelings I keep just for me the pages filled with my metaphorical tears the pages filled with my realistic fears describing my intrusive thoughts outlining my dreams of yachts It is so distant yet so near my journal is where I disappear it houses the memories, my souvenirs my breath that you took, the lyrics to my next hook all lies within my aquamarine book