it’s large and soft and full of memories
now tainted by the thought of her
countless nights spent soundly sleeping side by side
comfortable and safe
but those nights have ended
will never return
exchanged for awkward glances
and menageries of bugs in my gut
i miss that bed though
i miss the closeness and the warmth
of her body next to mine
the routine
the sameness
the consistency

but life isnt consistent
unless the consistency is change

so i tell myself
there will be other beds
better beds
other girls
better girls
far better than she
better faces, better smiles
better memories
stronger feelings of comfort
and belonging
and acceptance
and love
for myself
and someone else.

it's cool nights like these
where i long for the taste of skin on skin
for the fire of kisses and affection warm in my belly
i long for arms wrapped tightly
securely
comfortably
around my waist
or my chest
or my shoulders
i crave the companionship
i need the comfort
i can't live without the love
i have been starved of for so long.

it's cool, clear, mild nights like this one
that ignite the blaze in my gut
where i need the intimate kind of love
that i have never been lucky enough to experience
on this side of a television screen
that i have been deprived of
my whole life.

Strike a match and I will burn
Becoming the fires that rage in Hell
With the molten ocean waves that churn.

My love is passion and I yearn
I must break free of this prison, this cell
Strike a match and I will burn.

Watch my heart as it begins to turn
I screamed and gasped as I fell
With the molten ocean waves that churn.

Maybe I will never learn
But what I've seen I will never tell
Strike a match and I will burn.

My heart claims it will not spurn
And that my feelings for you will not quell
With the molten ocean waves that churn.

These feelings I have worked to earn
I have finally cast my final spell.
Strike a match and I will burn,
With the molten ocean waves that churn.

its a pattern
its a pattern
its a pattern
with you
its always a pattern

you change and grow and learn
but something about you stays the same
i cant say what it is but it draws me for a loop every ******* time
i get my hopes up and!
things are going great and!
i feel myself allowing myself to become comfortable again and!
then!
it!
comes!
crashing!
down!
like it always does
its less of a you and more of a me, this problem
this exquisite little issue i keep finding myself dealing with
of always being “second” to someone else’s “first”
it’s something i have to learn to deal with
and i am
slowly
but surely
but very
s
  l
   o
     w
    l
  y
learning to accept my place in certain people’s lives

Se⋅ren⋅di⋅pit⋅y n. 1. The uplifting, seemingly never-ending weightlessness brought on by a beautiful event of pure happenstance. 2. When light hits one's face, esp. a friend or lover, in just the right way, and every aspect of one's inner beauty is displayed: lying in the morning sun / the ghost of curtains over faces / dust mote flurries around sleeping figures / or under the dim glow of decorative lights / and digital clocks reading 3:06 AM / exposed hearts, exposed minds / out on our sleeves / your inner beauty visible externally / to the world, to me / your face aflame with embarrassing thoughts / my face aflame with visible affection / or lying out under the Milky Way / under the Universe / constellations and bodies of memories hang above our heads / and watch us grow from millions of years in the past.

A firefly alerts me to its presence inches from my face
Bubbly giggles erupt from my lips
Crickets whisper in the bushes next to my porch
Dusk has finally arrived, overtaking twilight
Evening made way for nighttime
Feeling light in the dark
Grass, bright in the sunlight, turned to an inky navy in the moonlight
Heat from the day residual in the post sunset bliss
In the daylight it is unbearable
Just barely tolerable after dusk
Kisses from the wind brush my arms
Lifting up the gooseflesh
Moonlight hazy in the humid air
No such thing as silence at night
Overhead I hear distant thunder
Perhaps a midnight storm is near
Quickly approaching the rocking chair where I sit
Reading, enjoying the evening
Stars blink and twinkle above
Tonight, this summer night
Underneath the summer sky
Violet and blue and indigo surround me
Waiting to disappear in the morning
Xuberance in the bright morning sunlight
Yes, but until then I will revel in the evening
Zephyrs gently rocking me to sleep.

who knew guinea pigs and good intentions could make someone cry this hard.
almost three years were our embers lit
never ever quite erupting into a flame before dying completely
and it seems like you think that months of silence—
silence both agonizingly painful and indescribably freeing—
is best broken by guinea pigs and good intentions.

no.
that is not it.

for me, the silence was broken with quiet heaving sobs.
for me, the silence was broken with holding back tears on the elevator before breaking down once my door slammed.
for me, the silence was broken with cheeks stained with eyeliner and mascara.
for me, the silence was broken with tears i had never actually shed because i did not believe they existed.

they did.

it took three years to reach this point.
three years ago this week.
that was when it began.
three years later, here i am
on a different continent
as a different person
loving myself and potentially someone else
(someone who isnt you)
learning to love someone new
(someone who isnt you)
living
when suddenly
just like that
you pull me back
to three years ago
with guinea pigs
and good intentions.

I walk down the street, my hair messy
My makeup sliding off
My sweatpants riding low on my hips, dragging on the ground, collecting dirt
And a low cut tank top.
Tired, exhausted, worn out. Unattractive. And that's okay.
What's not okay is when a car slows down and yells
"Hey pretty girl! Where you off to?"
I freeze
Attention is not something I'm looking for
It's a bed that I'm seeking
A good night's sleep
But instead of a bed I find
A man
Yelling unwanted compliments out of his car window as I walk back home.

Should I answer? What would I say?
Should I be honest? "I'm going home. Off to bed."
I know what the response would be. "Can I come too?"
Or maybe I can say "I'm going to see my girlfriend."
I don't have a girlfriend, but for the next five minutes,
She's right up that hill, waiting in her room to see me.
No, his response would be "That's hot! Can I come too?"
Or maybe I have a boyfriend instead.
More effective.
More dangerous. More of a threat than a girlfriend would be.
No, to that he'd say "He's letting you walk by yourself?
Must not be much of a man. I bet I could take him in a fight."
Which brings up many more issues
(i can walk by myself if he were real he would respect me so thats more than you do if he were real he wouldnt fight some random ******* over me treat me like a PERSON god ******)
That I would not want to address with someone as dangerous
As a man telling me I'm pretty out of the window of his car.
Maybe I can say "Please leave me alone." Being direct is always the best option.
Unless he continues to follow me.
Or gets upset.
Or refuses to leave me alone.
Or gets out of his car or pulls me into his car or or or
I don't know. I don't want to think about it.

Or maybe I can just keep walking.
Ignore him, act like nobody said anything
Act like there isn't someone I have never met in my whole life
Yelling out of the drivers window of his car
Telling me I'm pretty.

There is no way out of the dangerous thing that is the male gaze
Once it begins
There is no easy way out.

I try to dance in the rain
I try to sing through the night
I try to light up the darkness, but I can't even find a match.

I try to bring peace and tranqility
I try to make those important to me just as happy
I try to sleep, but find I can't even close my eyes.

I try to use my imagination
I try to dream vividly
I try to soar above the clouds, but I can't even find my wings.

I try to be supportive
I try so hard to love you
I try to help you, but I can't even help myself.

Surrounded by the lake, no soaking clothes glued to my skin
Just the ice cold water hugging me tightly.
The sound of the small lake waves lapping against the tiny, brown beach
Aside from my splashing and the occasional birds in the woods
Was the only thing that pierced the quiet of a silent, cloudy day.
The air was cold but the water was colder,
A frigid blanket hiding whatever lurked below.
The joy on my face was undeniable
Despite hidden under the tendrils of the loose strands of my ******* hair.
The New York mountain air combined with the lake scent
Despite the cold July afternoon
Undeniably smelled like summer.
Freshwater smells different than saltwater,
Like sugar cookies baking instead of chocolate chip.
And the taste of those freshwater summer sugar cookies
Are a taste I refuse to forget.