She's like ink on parchment paper
Solid with faded edges
She's got a lot of weight while being light
Trying to make sense of the shape
At the same time respecting it
I respond in kind by being weightless, a feather quill
To her I am a threaded needle, continuously progressing into a seam
Starting from the beginning until the end
Making a garment without any shape or form
Responding in kind with a letter of my own
As cryptic as where we started
It has potential to end
If I continue our thread there could be a *** of gold that isn't a fool's
There could be a painting made for my frame
There is something about her skin that deserves solid lines
That stretches out toward the strobe lights
That makes its way toward the true light
If paradise was meant for the wicked
Then we are created to balance good and evil
I'm too nice.
I'm too aggressive.
Long, descriptive message.
I'm too wordy.
Short, succinct message.
I'm too boring.
I hope you understand this message.
We talked again tonight,
Not talking - messaging,
It's like people forget how to talk to one another nowadays.
Rarely such a thing of picking up the phone and calling a friend or an interest
We type, type, type, giving varying degrees of attention
It makes it so easy to misinterpret how interested the other person is
Every little thing is expected to have ten times more meaning than intended
And people wonder why relationships in younger generations often don't work very well
Modern relationships are pieced together like the modern Prometheus, with mixed intentions in all the right places but with conflicting commitment tearing it apart
Strange how my mind wanders this way
I know exactly what I want to say
Every letter, syllable and comma
So I’ll type it down
Polite and eloquent
But I’m getting my **** point across
Emojis, gunky gifs and text speech
**** & SMH
**** that’s not what I want
But that’s how you reply.
Just one more message,
And the night disappears.
In ones and twos the messages appear,
Replies within the minute.
One more message,
Then I’ll go to sleep, one more.
Just one more message,
And the night slips away,
Out of reach.
I ask you
'how have you been? Isn't this your favorite drink?'
'I hope I'm not trying too hard'
I know I probably overthink
'I had a great time with my friends. We had so much fun'
Sending a picture
'how was your weekend?'
Isn't that a strange mixture?
I grasp for something deeper still
Aren't you too?
I can't be the only one here that wants and will
Clearly you want to share as much as I do
So shouldn't you be willing also?
Why claiming, wanting
but then feel distant
Why do I feel like I need to be hunting
for anything resembling something subsistent
I don't want to feel like constantly being insistent
Didn’t really know why I felt the way I did
When I saw her
it was like nothing made sense
She coordinated chucks and black nail polish
with Lacoste polos
She belched and smoked
but she hated profanity
She was only in high school but she was wise
beyond her years
She was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,
but she was lonely
Only thing that made sense
was that I liked her
Did she reciprocate the same feelings?
I already knew the answer
And I was content
In the back of my mind
I knew I had a chance
when I first made her laugh
I smiled when she told me
she was into the same bands as me
I fistpumped when I heard
she dumped her boyfriend
But then I remembered
Who I am and who she was and I stopped myself
Because she was the wild child
And I was the awkward guy
We didn’t belong together,
we weren’t right for each other
I stopped calling her and slowly I left her life
Next day I turned on the television and I saw a couple
Walking down their street
Talking about how nice the weather is
And I thought to myself
Why can’t the weather be good in Seattle?
I called Elizabeth.
Talking to you is God's gift
Because if I thought I had feelings I know now for sure
And when you say
You gotta go home
I hate it.
Because I don't like being alone
The music grows quiet and the food gets cold
And the night has nothing to hide anymore.
You were the reason I stayed up to see the moon.
Talk to you later, see you soon, say goodnight
But this time
I can't say goodbye.
I'm not sure why.
we don't exchange too many cute messages anymore
yet i open your contact and look at you often
watching as your profile picture provides a glimpse
into your life and state of mind
seeing when you are online and thinking if you are looking at mine
but the words "typing..." don't appear
neither on my end nor yours
effectively our two lives are behind two different closed doors
I hear myself talk
In parenthetical echos
From your downward eyes
While you text
Yet closer than I;
I hear myself grow silent
As you smile,
Then look up,
Surprised I'm here.