My Best Friend

It's cliche to say I'm in love with my best friend,
Or to say that she's my soul mate.
But those are the only words humanly possible to describe it.
I can tell her anything
Everything
Whenever
Whatever.
If I have a random thought at two in the morning
And I wake her up,
She won't be mad.
She's half awake but she listens. She'll tell me it's okay
Hold me until I fall asleep,
Wait until she hears my steady breaths
Wait until I stop shifting.
It's so intimate in those moments.
When there's nothing around us but the soft whir of the A/C and the warmth of her love.
Or when she's crying in her room and the only words she can muster are apologies for things she didn't do and can't control.
And I sit,
Soothing
Repeating
Whispering
The only words that calm her down.
She knows them well.
I sit with her,
Sometimes unsure of what to do,
Doing the only thing I know.
And wait.
Calmly,
Patiently,
Understandingly.
I wait until it subsides.
And I wipe the tears gently from her eyes.
Push her hair out of her face,
Kiss her sweaty forehead,
And whisper lightly in her ear
Everything is alright.
Letting her know
I love her,
And I will always be here for her.
For she is my best friend
And my soulmate.

-1:30 a.m. K.E.

Happily he deals very gently and understandingly with me.  I love him.



(sonnet #MMMMMDCCXCV)


Not mists.  Thet ghostly whiteness as a veil
Down where the valley shivers in suspense,
Flirtatious winds' moist breath stale in the sense
Tis muggy ere dawn cast off Sunday's pale
Thought of more hallowed things, and in a frail
Excuse I button that blouse Mum gave thence
To me, to die as seeing her worn face hence,
Those precious eyes, and hate me in betrayl.
Oh Robert!  How I want to scream as twere
Until the universe is shattered to
Sheer nothingness.  But then as now in poor
'Scuse, no sound can come out. And I tell you
Cuz only you seem understand.  Mists tour
Forsooth, and I still breathe, pray, love you too.

24Jul16a

i fell in love with a writer. i will forever be in her world, even way past her death. i don't exactly know why i fell in love, or how i managed to do so, but i do know that i am perfectly okay with doing so. sometimes, when she looks at me, i am able to picture myself in her bed on my worst nights, and she by my side, holding me the entire time as i shake with fear and anxiety. and somehow, in those milliseconds when i look into those unkept swimming pools of eyes, i get lost and i forget who i am. she knows me like the map of veins on the inside of her wrists; she fathoms me in an unexplainable kind of way, more than anyone else, honestly. my sentences are not making any sense but i really dont care. i know she will read this. i know because i am purposely going to send her this link and she is going to let her eyes travel over each word that is typed.

okay let me start over.

how do you tell someone that they are all you want? that the dreams give you a craving that must be eventually put into words so they could possibly be put into action? i probably do not know what i am talking about. i went insane looking for her. i guess a part of me will always be insane, regardless of whether or not she plays a part in it. but, i do know this: i want her to be. i want her to drive me insane and i want her to push me to my limits. i dont want to just feel love for her. i want it all. i want the hate, the tears, the heartbreak, the pain, the joy, the angst, the lust, the melancholy, the happiness, everything. i want every emotion that comes with being in love with her. i want the hell, the heaven, and the purgatory. i want the planets in her veins and i want the constellations that linger on the edge of her lips so that every time i kiss her, i taste galaxies and nebulas. i want every ******* metaphor. i want every ******* reality. i dont know, i want so much; i am putting myself out here for her and i still dont even fully fathom whether or not she wants the same. i mean, i think she does? maybe, maybe not. it is yet another mystery i must learn to solve over time. i cannot go two feet without bumping into some piece of her. when i go out to get coffee, i imagine her sitting in that café right next  to me, reading a book she bought for fifty cents at a yard sale. i can imagine her in the most obscure places; walking next to me in the grocery store, staring at the puppies through the window of the pet shop on main street, in the mall with me dying to try the new hot chocolate at starbucks, buying cheap shampoo at the dollar store because we are going on some sort of three day adventure to anywhere. i see her everywhere. i feel her everywhere. i crave her everywhere. and this letter may make me seem out of my mind, but oh ******* well.
some things we dont talk about. we simply dont have to. i think that there is a mutual understanding between us for some things. to be honest, i didn't only fall in love with a writer. i fell in love with someone who holds many titles: lover. poet. dreamer. thinker. listener. talker. adventurer. brand new day. she is so much. she is an arbutrary holiday that is dying to be celebrated. her bones are filled with wanderlust, and she makes a mean hot cocoa. there is always a lovely way to look at her. even the distance between us is equally as beautiful as the distance between stars.

she is the perfect combination of subtle and mysterious, all while making it seem as though she is an open book waiting to be read by the loveliest pair of brown eyes. she is a universely misunderstood paradox, and she has the capability of making you think twice about what you are going to say, even without opening her mouth. she is a foreign film so full of incomprehensible words, yet you can fathom everything about her if you actually take the time to get to know her. she can make you fall for her just by closing her eyes and making a wish at 11:11pm. she makes you contemplate the meaning of life, and she can paralyze you all while batting one eyelash. she is the feeling of a warm blanket on a cold december night, and she is the cool breeze that caresses you on a humid july afternoon. she is that new song you hear in the coffee shop but will never know the name of, even though you will spend innumerous nights searching for it on the internet and in record stores. and oh god, if only she had the oppertunity to see herself from my perspective- she would fall in love with herself just as easily as i did for her. for she has never encountered a love like this likewise of squeezing into last year's prom dress. every single day, she will make my heart beat indefensibly faster and faster. and she will continually wonder why i fell for her, and eventually she will understand why it was simply her who occupied my vacant heart even though my bed was preoccupied by broken promises and empty words. she gazes at me skeptically, yet understandingly. and i will never stop trying to let her know that i ******* love her until it is nothing short of crystal clear. i will never get used to her; she changes over time and so do her thoughts and emotions and perspectives and opinions. i will never fully fathom her, but god knows i will ******* try. and every single day, i will love her more than the last. and she will continually wonder why i dedicate so much to her, for her, and about her. the entire ******* world knows about her. she is all i ever write about lately, and it soothes yet annoys me at the same time because she is always on my mind. i have waited a lifetime for her to love me, and i would patiently wait another if it meant that she will one day be the first eyes that i see when i wake up on sunday mornings.
god only knows what is hiding in her weak and fragile heart, in those glassy and lost eyes. and although she has the tendency to change her religions, it does not lessen the fact that she the universe in her soul.

so this is my letter about the girl i fell in love with. she is the only girl i have ever fallen for, and she has made me see the world from a different perspective. and i cannot even thank her for giving me the oppertunity to become like this. i dont know, maybe i am insane, but all the great artists were; hemingway, einstein, twain, poe, cobain, the list goes on and on.

maybe this time things will be better than they were.
maybe this time you can be the girl i write about who sneaks into my bedroom late at night to spend even five minutes together.
maybe you can be that girl who admires me from afar.
maybe you can be that girl who writes love letters to me and drops it off anonymously at my house at ten in the morning, and once i read it i already know who it is from by your handwriting.
maybe this time you will fall harder and deeper for me than you did before.
maybe this time we will find peace,
and maybe this time every single memory of ours that we make will last for decades.


i love you.*


{m.j.}

Everyone has this identity of what we are meant to be, but it does not come naturally. We must learn how to make it evolve.

This need festers deep inside our body and soul; making it hard to breathe, feeling as if you’re going to combust spontaneously.

In this very moment, the perfect epiphany wakes you as if in a deep sleep. It gives you the urge to write everything, especially your goals and dreams, hoping this will feed the want inside.

Everyone’s feelings of the want come differently.

For me, I feel this passion to make the earth quake enough to move mountains, in such an incredibly unique way.

To run as far as my legs will take me, until I feel as if I’m going break.

To love my children as gracefully and understandingly as I humanly can.

To grow in knowledge, while learning as passionately as my mind will grant me.

To let go of the hate an anger of the world.

To let it slide through my arms, down my finger tips, and into the ground where it belongs.

To not hurt others, but instead be a voice of kindness and strength.

To be what others are afraid of seeking and fighting to see.

To let go of all the animosity and pain, and fly free.

To harness and meditate the things that will feed my soul.

To dress strong and full of beauty as the women I venture to be.

By this I will go far. It’s not a question or a maybe; it is a statement to the world that this is who I will be.

I Coined A Note It Said Today Is Seized,
Sip the dream that says please trust this lie,
Upon Thought given Where we look there will be,
A drink on belief crazy enough to his broken,
Frozen in lust tragically unspoken rules teach blown glass,
Ocean deep fulfilling and blessing cause open three mouths,
Tasting breaths quotes understandingly come easy thieves trust cursing,
Dreams of breaking end from souls that color eyes,
freed dark silence I sin cheat think softer images,
By hearts kissing plead courage tempting they're curiously searched,
love, beating, hands, forgive, pride, ears, thrilling, blue, found.

Precious pretty child
You will see the future
Not I
She smiled back at me
Understandingly
How much can a child understand
I possess all the knowledge of the near future
But nothing of the far.
By the time you're old enough to drive
Will they even have cars?
Just by breathing
You're signing up for the front line
Everything is militant in the future
Don't let them brainwash you
Precious pretty wild
Flower.

Life has become something more with you.
All day the sole, constant thought in mind,
Understandingly, is care renewed;
Rainy days gone and the stars aligned.
Every second with you is perfect,
Never wanting to leave, say goodbye.
Being with you brings this great effect,
Racing my heart and tearing my eye.
Under each night you will cross my dreams;
Daylight passing finds my mind there too,
Effort is easy, my smile beams,
Raising my heightened feelings for you.

Happy and content -> Nudged out of wack.
On the right path -> Diverted off-track.
Whole and complete -> convinced of lack.

Laughing imbicility -> Fatalistic and sad.
Understandingly forgiving -> impossibly mad.
Totally good -> enjoyable bad.

Zest for life -> inviting suicide.
No remorse -> regretfully tried.
Never always -> honestly lied.

Timid fear -> Daring and bold.
Genuine character -> hypocritically cold.
Religiously devout -> soul's been sold.

Musically inclined -> can't keep a beat.
Social butterfly -> never want to meet.
Sour face -> smiling so sweet.

Always the same -> subject to change.
Seeking normality -> incredibly strange.
Demandingly certain -> just to re-arrange

… Remind you of anyone?...

We are sitting at a table by the window, my father and mother opposite of me. I have just discovered something peculiar and put it to a final test. Nearby is a slender cypress. This morning it was covered in white frost, but that must have disappeared by now. I look, and see white frost. I blink my eyes and the image of that morning quickly dissolves. The frost disappears. The tree becomes slightly fuller, and takes on a lighter shade of green. Excited, I explain the newly discovered memory effect of my retina to my parents. My father nods understandingly. Dreams can be that beautiful.

The plaster pulls the skin
my colour, my moles
and careful make-up
from my face

red
living flesh
looking eyes
expressive lips, my mouth
smiling at you

And you scan my mask
three-dimensionally, you hang
a field of registration points
on the red markings
at my eyes, nose, and chin

You trace back the dots
to feelings, then you look
at me, understandingly
From the void
of my eyes and mouth

the black holes
in the information
I try to express
what you can't see
Still, they don't show anything

—And so the conversation slips
Among novelties and carefully submitted anonymous tips                  
Through some elevator’s ear-splitting jingle
And then awkward coughs or sighs begin to mingle          
And coughs up something like          
"You do not know how much they mean to me, my (Whatever).”          
Well aren’t you a rarity.                  
In a world, so dense
Dank wet cold nights
Or Warm Summer Sunsets.

Another human being must have similar qualities
Someone who is cold, and warm. There’s everything.
Diversity in the soul; worldy, or knowledgeable.
One of those who has, and gives                  
Those qualities upon which friendship lives.          
This
These
My
Not demise
My eyes
Watch my words
Mine
Coming from my nervous system
Turning to twine and wind
Around and out from the nerves in my spine
Inside my brain a deep, dull rhythm begins          
Tapping intro on my skull wearing me thin
          
Unpredictable but measured changes
Make the silence seem, if possible, truthfully monotone          
That is at least one definite "false note."                              
Admire this monument,          
Remain with what’s relevant
This was some broken covenant
But then it was love again
No that’s from way back when.

Correct our watches by the school bell.          
Then sit for an hour and drink out of liquor wells.
Now that I can dream of the oleander in bloom          
I can smell their sweet pollen in the air in my room          
Just like that sweet strand of hair that you twist around your finger          
You don’t even know
It could all be (although not) all a show          
This whole thing, this life
It’s all in your hands
Survival is simple
Meet it’s demands
Learn how to stand on your hands
And land on your feet
It’s a stammering stam.                  
(You and your strand of hair put me through the wringer)          
You let it flow from you, you let it flow,          
Never the less without a god ****** filter
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse          
As ignorance infiltrates and expectations point the finger
I of course have a smirk plastered on my jaw                    
And I go on looking at you from across the table
I pretend to unsee the nakedness I once saw.

And again with the premature sunsets,
Somehow almost completely recall
The moments in the past verbatum
And that is how I retrospectively fall
My buried life, and the shallow Canal
One of my wings
And the rest of myself
I feel on the verge of some past dreamt nirvana.
Finding the world all fuzzy and wuzzy and whatnot
And find my ignorant stomach stumbling in knots                      
My inner voice returns like this pest persistently out-of-tune          
Of a broken vocal chord on a post-spring afternoon:          
I am always never surely unaware that you understandingly misunderstand          
My feelings, always surely realistically that you feel,                                  
I must be invulnerable, you insistently have no Achilles' heel.          
You will go on, and when you have finally figured out your fate’s tallest tale              
You can say: at this point I for one, have failed.
What can I say that you say,
Do I--but what do I have, vague shadow
To offer, what will you take from me?                                
Only the friendship and the unearned empathy          
Of a new journey, or the end of an old path
I’ll sit here, I see the fragments of dust settle on the shelves
Making for a subtle aftermath  
I’ll hang my hat on your hook:
I’ve never worn prada, I must make amends          
I’ve lived all my lifetime
No help from said friends                    
You will see me any morning in the park
Tying loose ends
Right around the bend.
Sitting on the wooden bench ahead
Reading the sports, and the comic strips          
And with a smirk on my face full of laughter and wit          
An English major goes upon life’s stage          
Some bad on bad got shot on or bled out in the cage                  
Another collection’s agency has called
I keep my solid, impenetrable expression,          
I remain self-possessed, and self in posession,          
Except when a tuneless piano, mechanically intravenously          
Reiterates some worn-out broken sonnet of a song, old and tired                  
With the smell of her across the garden          
Recalling things that which many others have desired.          
Are these ideas right or wrong?          
I’m desbelado, eyes cracked, hands wired
The nights swallows me, like it promised before
Except for the sensation at my hips and my hands moving with ease      
Owning each step of the stairs the creak of my door
So you’re leaving
But when will you be staying?          

But that's a useless question.
Between reality and a dream I stay swaying          

You never know anything.                    

But I have so much to go discover and learn.
My smile took so much elbow grease
Like old school butter to be churned

Maybe you can write to me, or just keep doing this.

Pure. Confidence, flares up for a second;          
This is as I signed up for.                    

I have been wondering lately, It’s been on my nerve’s end          
Why we will not continue growing into friends.
            
Not very ironically
I am smirking internally of course, to write a side note
I have a sly private remark          
Suddenly, the expression in a glass is stained                    
My soul or me stutters.
Whispers, we really are in the dark.

It was common knowledge. You and I. We were the perforated line.
It was sure that the ideas must happen, revolution. America is beautiful.
So closely! I myself can hardly understand. How any extremist swallow their own bull          
It must be put in the hands of whatever you think is fate                    
I will be always, I will write, at any rate.          
There is still a chance it is not too late.          
I will sit here, without a list of my friends.
Instead my list is a comrade after comrade
And that’s how it ends  
Would you lend me your fridge’s magnet puzzle pieces          
To somehow visualize my thought                    
My mind is racing. It’s the revolution I’m chasing.          
No stencils or unorganically produced tracings          
            
We’re all bound to die some afternoon,          
Mine will be foggy maybe, ending in a tie-dye yellow rose                    
I will die with ink on my face and a pen in my stiff hand
Half a bowl left of stale rasin bran.
If there’s an afterlife, I will be the protagonist that starts off in denial          
Not knowing what to feel through the whole doomsday trial          
I’ll actually be debating whether this is ridiculous, raw, or even tactile                      
With all the time in the world, might sit down a while.