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745 · Mar 2014
the same wavelength
Valerie Weisbeck Mar 2014
i am so terrified of heights that i cry,
but if i were to kiss you,
i would do it at the top of a ferris wheel in august
and i would not stop
until my feet were on solid ground
and until the mountains got jealous
because the sunrise never kissed them that well.

one time, at the top of a roller coaster,
my eyes blacked out and my knuckles-
well, they were white;
i gripped onto that handle as tightly as
your mere existence seized my mind,
and i think that the sand on the beaches
were jealous because the sea has never clutched them so closely.

the message that i'm trying to convey is that
with enough time, i overcome my fears.
one day, i'll hold your hand
without you taking mine first,
because i know you'll revel in it.
and i know that the deserts will be jealous
because the tantalizing rain is never so dauntless.

(v.g.w.)
confidence is key. // for t.s.m.
491 · Apr 2014
letting go.
Valerie Weisbeck Apr 2014
sixty or so days ago i set a countdown,
waiting for the day i wouldn't frown.
thirty or so days ago my heart burst,
i loved you so much because you were the first.
fourteen or so days ago you stopped replying,
so i told my pillow i was sorry for crying.
seven or so days ago i looked at the countdown
and realized this is what it felt like to drown.
but two or so days ago all i could do was bid adieu,
because there were two days left
and no longer did my heart pound for you.
could be better. // for t.s.m. as always.
466 · Mar 2014
3:13 3/13
Valerie Weisbeck Mar 2014
my palm fell in love with your pinkie and the part covered by the cuff of my sweater fell in love with your shorts covering your pale summer thighs.

and my mind fell in love with loving you and the idea of you loving me back and my eardrums fell in love with the sound of your voice saying my name and "little bird".  i fell in love with your perfection and then i saw your imperfections and i cried because the sun had finally come out, and i still loved you.

and i know that we hugged once but i don't remember it because i was too focused on trying to feel us become one, and as i write this my hands shake because this pen is like asphalt and this paper is like the ocean, breaking my fall.

and i remember when you bought me a slushie and my face and tongue turned strawberry red and i sweated under the sun and under gaze and you held me, like a giant, within your fist.

every day i wake up with your name taking a casual stroll down the channels of my conscience the way you casually strolled into my life and altered me forever, and you shook my ground the way vesuvius shook pompeii and destroyed it forever.

and i turn my phone on three times during school like a ******* routine to see if you've texted me, and if my phone vibrates in my hand with your name on the screen, my heart falls into my ribcage and disintegrates as though it was submerged in acid.

because i know how bewilderingly terrified you are of rejection and there is no way for you to ever know i will always be here and you can fall into me and i will love you until the earth falls out of revolution with the sun, and i will probably still love you after that.

because i am jealous of every solar ray that has ever warmed and burned your skin, jealous of every feather of grass you have ever uprooted from its soil, and jealous of every single highway you've ever cruised down.

and in the everlasting plan of the universe, we equate to less than blips, but the thought of you soaks my mind and controls my day in the style of a rainstorm quenching a plant's thirst until it drowns.

(v.g.w)
for t.s.m.
425 · Mar 2014
small numbers
Valerie Weisbeck Mar 2014
you say you call me when you can
and i tell you 3 times not to apologize
when you can't,
but you listen 0 percent of the time.
because there are 40 minutes
and 4 parents between us
with only 24 hours in a day.
but you've turned me into someone
who does not sleep at 2 am anymore
because she's writing poetry about
your curly hair and blue eyes
and everything in excess.

(v.g.w)
short but sweet. for t.s.m
353 · Mar 2014
souvenirs
Valerie Weisbeck Mar 2014
"my biggest fear is being rejected by a girl."
"what makes you think you would ever be rejected by a girl?"
"past experience."

i furrowed my brows at that
how could any girl
look at you and say to herself
"i can do better"

i know i shouldn't put you on a pedestal,
but i go insane
in love
with the smallest details about you
that you probably don't even notice.

how good you look in purple and blue shirts,
how goofy you look in your yellow work boots.
the sight of you from the behind leaves me breathless,
your hair is longer in the back than in the front.
your deliberate but small sighs in the middle of conversation
when you don't know what to say next.
the suppleness of your fingertips when you toy with rubik's cubes
and how you tote two around in the bottom of your bag
because they're stress relievers.

but
i wanted you to know me in the smallest details
(coffee-stained breath, the lack of separation between r's and e's in my script, broken hair where i shove it in place behind my ear)
and i wanted you to love me in the biggest way
(endlessly)

and i wanted you to know that
there isn't a single person in this world
that i would rather be with than you.

(v.g.w.)
this is a blending of a few poems i had started but never finished, but since they're about the same person i put them together. not the best, not the most cohesive, but wholly the truth. // for t.s.m.

— The End —