December 2009
11 posts
Confession (2)
I have finally come to terms and accepted the fact that I will never be what you want me to. And I’ve never felt more resolved.
Craig.
I really believe that the best way to spend Christmas eve is in the company of your loved ones, and I’ve loved you dearly for so long that it was unbelievably easy for me to decide to want to spend this exact moment with you. Constant. I’ve never stopped loving you for a second.
“Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.”
– Charlie Brown (via chazio)
This is completely fiction.
Your entire body blanketed the bed. Laid out, pores of your skin were patchwork and the hair on your arms that stood up (from a single touch of my fingers across them) were threads that held all of it together; I ached to be beneath you.
I see you.
From the corner of my eye did I see you standing there with your hair in perfect curls; like when I met you for the first time. And my breath caught in my throat and I looked down at my feet as if I never knew you existed; and my heart did break under the falling snow. You walked in the opposite direction like you didn’t see me.
Shhh, I know it’s only in my head.
Confession (1)
I fell asleep with my cell phone in my left hand last night; like I do every night, hoping to hear from you, a bad habit I haven’t been able to rid myself of. I’ve deleted your number from my phone book. I don’t want to think about you ever again, I want to be just like you. Unbreakable, selfish, naive and above all: relentless.
He.
Leagues beneath a threaded and stitched sea of fabric I floated between quilts and schools of dizzy dreams that I lazily imagined half awake, half asleep. Enclosed fences and miles of cracked concrete highway. Their yellow lines wrapped around my eyelids to lull me into a perfect haze of absolute comfort. And from the surface did I hear him faintly call out to me; hesitantly. Surprised himself to...
Words I wasted on you.
I felt each individual goose bump on your left arm as I leaned in to brush away a stray thread that fell from the sheets and onto your cheek; like railroad tracks we stretched limbs across one another. Crossroads, crossroads, crossroads. Keeping time on digital clocks, wake up wake up wake up.
(2)
She’s humming and delicately placing Christmas ornaments on a tree made out of plastic and silver wires; she’s humming Silver Bells. Her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose as she’s reaching into a plastic grocery bag for another brightly colored glass ball, I imagine they’re wishes I’ve made. Without benevolent force, it slips in between her fingers and falls...
(1)
The smell of disinfectant burned the nostrils, walking down a long winding hallway that stretched out as far as the eye could see; blinded by buzzing bulbs and shiny tile floors that had been scrubbed to perfection. Almost scared to step on them for fear of cracking a hole in the foundation of the idea that “this is a safe place, you are welcome here.” To disregard the belief that...