January 2012
27 posts
“some might tell you there’s no hope in hand
just because they feel...”
– dave matthews band
accidental tent ass-grabbing
we were staying in a tent warmed by all our best friends as frost licked the ground outside. i don’t pretend to be yours, even in the dark, and you are anything—blonde, blue-eyed, and majoring in chemistry—but mine. we are both honest, both earnest, both have good intentions. still, at twilight, we kept exchanging glances like we were half-wistful for the nights in october when...
the resolute hope that yeah, we'll see each other...
i’m satisfied being unsatisfied, for the time being. just crossing my fingers in the ghostly dawn of my parent’s house, in the resolute hope that yeah, we’ll see each other again. eye-to-eye, like we did last. holding my hair back from my face, i grinned at you like a wolf in the dark. you touched the soft current of my neck, just once. i don’t want to change my mind...
Anonymous asked: How come no matter how much you treat me like shit, I can't help loving you even more?
i wanted to write you poetry but you wouldn't let...
i wanted to write you poetry but you wouldn’t let me. i wouldn’t let myself. our two favorite words were “not yet.” i left my notebook behind and fell, instead, like the first snowfall of winter: soft. you’ve always had a thing for girls with dark hair, so you owe my father some thanks. you’ve always had a thing for girls with slender eyes, and the smoke ...
that open 8%
at first, i was 92% closed to your sweet affections and the soft hands
you announced them with. i was always moving, downstream like
fresh-water. i always had someone else waiting. it seemed to only
make you want me more. and i’m not sure how, but you managed
to wedge your foot firmly in that open 8% of my door, and how i wish
i could take back that desire i felt for you, because it...
i don't know you very well
i’ll be gone for another two weeks so i don’t really have to decide yet if we are real. but i’ve been mulling it over anyway. attempting to work it out in my head like a math problem. taking it for walks down to the stream with my golden retriever. how could i not? these are the only ways i know how to solve a problem. and i’ve been dying to solve you, though we are not a...
remember when it was september and i could have...
remember when it was september and i could have anyone i wanted? the poem you wrote about me and the ridiculous length of your eyelashes both convinced me that no, you were not just around to play games. i recall the sharp cliffs of october and how we suddenly fell from summer into fall and how that left me tapping my little fist against the firepit of your door, but you would only open...
cast you out or reel you in
it doesn’t bother me much when you date other girls, as long as you’re just wasting your time. you can laugh at me, at my inability to cast you out or reel you in, but it’s the truth really. we are at a standstill; have been for a while. you live too far away for us to be anything substantial, but i’m not willing to let go of what you have always been to me, ever since that...
staying silent with those i love and kissing those...
i’m gathering all my words to my chest like dry yellow leaves. if i really want to kiss the thin cheek of loneliness goodbye, this story is the best way i know how. my sister said to me once, “of everyone in our family, you seem to need people the least,” and even though i shook my head like a wet bird, but she didn’t notice. “you’re too good at being...
dillusionment
yeah, it’s hard to hear about your heroic doings in this town like they were just yesterday’s leftovers from somebody else’s lips. it’s hard to read about you in the local newspaper. yeah, seeing you driving up my hill - one hand on the wheel - looking pensive gives me two jolts of electricity; one more when i realize you did not see me. yeah, being back in the city that...
untitled (puppy eyes)
you resisted my puppy eyes without any visible effort and i can’t help but laugh at how powerless i feel around you. in a physical fight, you would best me in eight seconds—i know that much from our playful wrestling on the couch. in a war with words, i would win but with effort, and you would be too stubborn to admit your defeat. and when you fix your eyes on mine with the most...
we passed that conversation back and forth
when you left it felt like defeat and i don’t know why. it had grown dark outside as we passed that conversation back and forth between our fine fingers like the fragile pages of a composition notebook filled with biological references and sexual jokes. making fun of you, making fun of me. if you don’t think i’m cute, why are you hanging around? your excuse is empty in your big...
handiwork
on the second night i really thought we could be something, snow gilded the ground lightly with one finger. while you wrapped yourself in an old story, told aloud, i watched the way the tale lit your face up, even in the dark. even in the cold, the seven-hour snow, even tucked into a booth with our friends and fluorescent lighting all around us, your sharp features shone like a good thing...
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your red christmas sweater
i don’t know that much about you yet. you have always been tall enough to snare my flighty attention and consistent enough in goodness to keep me looking for more, but what else? i don’t know that much about you, not yet. what i do know of you is intwined with what i know of myself when i am around you. and what we are is made up of small things. a corner of someone else’s...
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December 2011
53 posts
i could have cried over you but decided to study...
i could have cried over you but decided to study chemistry instead. i’m not as heartless as i want to be—i could have cried over you, could have done it readily, even when in public; the library perhaps, or talking with friends. it’s not like what we had was really that great, for despite the true blue of your eyes, you proved to be the most untrustworthy boy i have ever laid...
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stopping counting kisses
i’ve gotten to the point were i’ve stopped counting kisses on my fingers like the multiplication tables and started wishing that i’d have made out with fewer boys. if there is a quality about women who choose their men sparingly, i have lost it. i could’ve done without kissing so many men: i’d easily give up one, five, or six. seven was a mistake that lasted ...
the very first time you kissed me
the very first time you kissed me, our mouths did not want to fit together. we fumbled in the dark for a few seconds, my hands loose around your arms, before figuring each other out, our tongues finally dancing together in the elegant way of two people shaking hands. it’s nice to get to know you, even in the dark.
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how you came to me
you came on soft, like the shadows i used to trace across my bedroom wall and down the backs of boys i can’t remember the taste of now. you were gentle in the dark of several weekends: we met two or three times in late september and early october before i even allowed myself to think about you. met once or twice more before i let my mind categorize you as someone who could hold up the...
(old things scribbled in strange places.) →
jenna2step:
“Kiss me like you mean it” and I laughed right in your face, my nose to your nose, your breath and mine (blending together to) make(ing) ours. You have broad shoulders and wide hands and you unbraided my hair absentmindedly while you held me on the back porch. Sometimes I feel half-embarrassed, but never really ashamed and we laughed a lot and you laid next to me in the grass...
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expensive
i have felt cheap for three months now and you erased it all when you took me in the dark, walked me home, rubbed my back without expecting a single thing in return.
tall, strong, and slightly foolish
you’re tall, strong, and slightly foolish as you walk in the door. you’ve got an unnatural swing in your step and a high degree of uncertainty in your eyes. i met you once, out in the october cold. you were wearing a pink shirt to a themed party and i was half-enamored of a boy with an american name, african skin, and mexican heritage. i’m always half enamored of someone. and if...
“There was a point in time when my mother would pride me on the maturity I showed...”
– natalie
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trading back rubs in the dark
you kneaded my back until it was all soft but there was little need for when i am small and spunky by your side, i am the antithesis of hard and twisted. you are the softest thing i could know with the hardest muscles. you move in like the summer moves across the cascades. as sharp as dusty sunlight, you filter through the pieces of me that have been bending in compromise like birches in a...
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