Here are some of my more recent poems...hope you likes.
Short
Bitter black Heaven Girl cries in Passion. Her eyes burn- She dreamed lies.
This Poem Sucks (but at least I tried)
If I was Lisa Loeb- I’d write a song about the way you make me smile.
If I was Sylvia Plath- I’d write a poem about the way you make me blush.
And If I was Georgia O’Keefe- I’d paint us holding hands.
But at the end of the day All I am is a broken girl with an exceptional vocabulary.
20.May.02
I’m biting my nails again. I only chew and pick when life becomes too real. I thought I was losing grip on reality, pieces at a time. Today it all came back the minute I saw your face.
When you look at me I forget how broken I am.
When you say my name I forget that life seems tragic.
And when you make me smile I feel like a tulip in a field of weeds.
Tonight the moon is shining as bright as it will all year- (that's what my internet news tells me) I stood outside in the cold tonight- staring at the moon, trying to remember how bright it was last night... It didn't seem to be brighter than usual.
The man on the moon talked to me while i stared, "Humanity is the DEVIL, " he tells me, a smirk rolling over his features, "People are not good."
"That means i'm not good," i casually remark, not really paying attention-- "And i already knew that, so teach me something useful."
"No," he replies, "PEOPLE humanity, not you--the collective" and then he says, "You're fine."
"Oh but dear moon, if a chain is only so strong as the weakest link it holds, than i am not fine. I'm bad as the rest."
You see, i AM people, i AM humanity, and i am EVERYTHING wrong with the world today. I am the disease of humanity, and the plague of our nation.
I stepped back and looked again-- somehow the moon seemed to lose its glow-- as if it was shining more faintly than i had ever seen--
And this, the night of the brightest full moon.
I lied.
Do you remember the time I made you stand in the rain with me? I kept laughing and twirling- Afraid to drop your hands for fear you'd leave. Do you remember when you told me I smelled like beauty and tasted like happiness? I couldn't stop smiling- I thought for sure it meant you'd be mine.
I remember sitting here waiting for you to call, And you never did. I remember telling you I could love you- If only you'd let me.
Do you remember how you were always drunk when you said the sweet things? And how you told me you couldn't be held responsible for you drunken actions?
I remember how I tried to make you hurt, like you hurt me-- all the time dying inside when I saw the look in your eyes.
But do you remember the night we stood in the rain? And I smiled, because you made everything else disappear. Do you remember how I looked in your eyes, And twirled in the rain and told you this was really living?
Sometimes at night I think about that night, When I'm staring at the ceiling for hours- And all the pretty words rush back, And the way your hands felt against my skin.
Do you remember how you used to kiss me goodbye, and now you barely look at me? You avoid me like some disease you're afraid to catch. We only talk when I call, And you say, "I'll call you right back." And you don't.
But do you remember the night we stood in the rain? And I said, "No, just for one minute, you'll love it!" And I gave you a dry shirt, and I cooked dinner, And for a moment everything was perfect. And I could pretend you were mine.
Do you remember how I said I just wanted to be friends? And I believed it, I really did! Until you told me how hot she is, And I realized she's the one making you smile now.
But do you remember the night with the rain, And the food, and the laughing, and the smiling, And we were friends, And I said that was ok?
5:20am
“Can I have a hug?” she asks meekly. “Is that all you want, a hug?” “You don’t seem to be offering even that,” she sighs through downward glancing eyes. He pulls her tightly to him, “I would offer you the world, if it was mine to give.” Knowing too well what he means she walks away – And he doesn’t see the tears slowly cascading down her face.
The window sits behind her. She dances alone hoping someone will see, hoping to be found out. All night the light burns— And she dances. Slow- Fast- Erratic she dances like a doll. Self aware she steps from foot to foot. Only the wind knocks, and so she dances alone. The window her only audience.
English Professor
Goodbye to You
Nasty dirty smoker girl you like to watch the smoke swirl. Up in your hair, all over your clothes. Is that your secret weapon for friends and foes?
Sell me your soul for a piece of toast, or maybe a coke at 7am. That is, if you have a soul to sell. If you haven't sold it already. If you think my toast is worth it.
Today is dreary. It is raining and cold-- wind blowing fiercely. It reminds me of a scene from a sad romantic movie.
I Hide Who I Am
Even so, i feel you clueless friend. I dream drama where you glow, kiss stars-- inspire my giggle. I walk away. You remain.
Brokendown
Entranced she stares from behind twin waterfalls, watching him gracefully move, watching him smile. As he starts to move away she pears through the wall of water.
Even through the downpour his eyes seem to be kissing the stars.
Welcome to Suburbia
Blue hair. Green pants. Black shoes. Pale face. Dingy smile.
Cold
This is how i will remember home. Every room seems too cold, too uninviting. Long nights, shorts days-- they never pass fast enough. Icicles seem to hang over every doorway.
Yet i can't bring myself to leave.
27.Dec.01
Tomorrow, today, next week-- Days seem to attack me at once. It seems the last chapter is almost complete, though i didn't comprehend the beginning, or the middle, now i stand at the end. Things i knew seem less than true
fear becomes reality, wrapping icy fingers tightly around my neck. I stand alone at the end, wondering why they left-- wondering if they were ever even there.
Cloves
I watch her and she doesn't see-- This lovely girl with the entrapping eyes. A thin clove cigarette between her full glossy lips. She says she feels more ladylike with her sweet-smelling imports,with their crackle and pop, and the sugary taste they leave on her lips. The men around her fidget with desire to see for themselves. I watch her night after night--watch them watching her. They tell me she's sexy without knowing or trying. She feigns confidence and strong will--hiding her girlish fears behind a cloud of smoke and a carefully planned outfit.
She sits alone in the coffee house crowd-- longing for someone to see. I'm watching her while she isn't noticing, and pretending not to see their long gazes and frequent stares. Inside i'm screaming to her, "Be strong! Be true!" But the cloud remains, seperating her from the people who think they know.
When she goes home the tears wash away the makeup, and the image in the mirror slowly fades to me. Everyday i watch her, and she never seems to see.
Brisendine
He calls me bitch, and when i walk away he scuttles after- The boy who won't give up and doesn't care. He chases and i laugh, the sounds that follows reminds me of rodents. He claims indifference, but shows up at my door everyday. The way he chases and follows makes me laugh. I kick and slap, and hit and pinch-- still he comes...i run away and he scuttles after.
After the storm
The cold wind sends down falls showers form the green canopy of leaves. Pink and Brown worms crawl to the surface seeking safety from the flooded soil. I gingerly step around them, only to see them squished by careless, quick-moving feet. I feel sorry for them both.
Sometimes i just feel like the worms.
Depressed, discontent, and disheartened she sits alone. She stares at her pedicured toenails, as the rain begins to fall, ignoring the chill around her. His memory used to make her warm, tonight it only makes her cry. He doesn't really want her, and she can't force herself to let go.
Deception and Cowardice
Diet Coke washes away the Cuervo, she likes it that way. She doesn't know she's had it until her belly starts to burn and her head begins to cloud.
Silly little drunk girl lying on a bed- towel wrapping her still wet hair. Again tonight she promised to say no. Her gut begins to burn, and her head starts to cloud, and she dreams of him.
When she wakes her first thought is of him, she turns to see another and runs and hides.
Right back to Jose who helps her forget.
She sleeps while i write- unaware of my fingers click-clacking across the keyboard, and the scratch of my pen across the page. She stretches in her sleep reaching for some part of her dream-- like one of Huxley's girls reaching for her soma.
05.Oct.01
She's adding to the ranks. Slowly but surely her numbers grow. The small army grows large. There is no draft, no rush to join. But slowly, slowly they come and never leave her side. She adds without trying, sometimes without knowing. They think her fearless and strong-- blindly they follow, and she only wants to be alone. There is no war, and never will be. But slowly, surely- the numbers grow.
Seen and not heard
I watched her when she sat alone-- a sad, scared little girl with invisible scars that refused to fade. She sat there in her dark corner, trying not to be seen as she cried. But i saw her. I saw her trying desperately to find happiness, to get back the love she tried to give. I saw her stare in the mirror, wondering where the flaws came from. Then i saw him walk up to her with a smile. He gave her a shoulder to lean on, I saw him lift her bowed head, and help her find her light. I saw the invisible scars begin to heal. The sad, scared little girl came out of her dark corner. I saw her smile. Now i see her dancing.
Texas Summer
Sometimes the heat is too much to bare- the humidity thick and heavy, steals my breath from me. I sit, hoping for the rain to relieve my chest of this ache.
The sky seems a little darker than blue- the thunder pounds a rattle into my windows. The half blue, half black sky mocks me with short flashes of lightening.
The air seems to cool- the bright flashes come fast, the thunder bellows with more intensity, the wind blows, the birds grow silent, but the rain never comes.
6 by 6
I hide here so they won't see, I try to muffle my sobs, and hold my breath when i hear them knock. I desperately cluth the phone wishing for it to ring, hoping someone will rescue me. I stare at the four walls until my eyes sting from the makeup mingling with tears. Finally i give in to the exahuastion as i close my eyes and wonder what would happen if i never woke up.
26.July.01
"You're gonna go off to school and forget all about me. That's how it works," he says as he tenderly caresses her arm.
"No I won't. I refuse to let that happen," she promises only slightly concerned that he's right.
Still she grows silent- Terrified that just the opposite of what he says is true.
Strange that I thought we had reconnected— Strange that my heart seemed to open once again. Strange that I looked past all faults. Strange that you’ve hurt me more than you’ll ever know. Strange that just when I changed my opinions the dullard returned. Strange that you feel the need to rub my failures in my face. Strange that you find some sick pleasure in making me cry. Strange that my humiliation is your joy. Strange that I let myself be put through this. Strange that, even so, I miss you.
My Best Friend is Snowed In
I’m hiding tears behind a smiling face, hiding my pain with eloquent grace. In reality my heart and mind are far from this place.
Retrospect
You didn’t really care, you merely offered momentary distraction. I didn’t really care, I merely needed self-destruction. You are gone, All is done. Yet only now do I see.
Spanish II
Again I am subjected to this prison. Listening to the monotonous drone of these ill-mannered, uneducated ones, Sitting and laughing at the latest victim of their ridicule. So I sit in this corner alone, watching as they mock, shocked at their mannerisms, knowing I won’t miss them when they’re gone. I long to be removed from this place, the ones who once cause me to love it now make me loathe it. I am sick of their attitudes and actions, wishing rather that I could sit alone always in this corner, with no rude people to watch, no feelings to be trampled on— no tears running down my face.
2.Mar.00
I used to wait in anticipation for your call. Silently holding my breath until my ears were pierced by the shrill screams of my phone. Days go by now, and I find life is possible without your voice. When we speak, our conversations lack depth and meaning; We’re merely repeating superficial words. Even your hugs seem empty now. has habit replaced affection? I see you slipping further away as the days drag on… Maybe you should just stay away. Maybe you already are.
Misguided Information
How does one respond, when over hearing conversations not meant for the ears of others? Only a sentence...a few small words, placed together with other things-- a mutinous imagination tormenting me. Though I could explain it away, make it work in my favor-- All along my heart knows the truth.
"But you only heard a few words!" That's what they all say, Better to know now, rather than later is my only reply. Why be a fool tomorrow when i can be one today?
Anxiety Attack
A year from today what will i see when i stare out my window? Something comforting and warm, or something cold and gray? Will i still remember the smell of chicken salad and oranges mingling in my lunch bag? Will the things i'm doing now matter? A year from today will i remember who i crushed on? How many times my heart was broken? Will i still talk to my friends, and depend on them as much as i do now? OR will i struggle to fit a name with the faces in my photographs? A year from today, will i even care that i was having an anxiety attack?
I sit and fret, whine and complain...because i am alone and bored. I am tired of being passed by and ignored. So a guy asks for the digits, and never calls. The waiter who talks at me, but not to me. Was the free dessert supposed to make up for the time you spent staring at my chest? Then there's MR. INDECISIVE. He calls and pleads to return, then forgets my number. I see him out with friends or at the store, and suddenly he forgets my name. And now he's calling and asking out my answering machine.
22.January.01
Twelve white roses stare at me from the desk. Their color seems to scream, "YOU ARE TAINTED! You'll never be as pure as our white!" Even the full green leaves seem more perfect than i will ever be. Maybe i'm hearing his voice screaming from the past, through this present: "You're not straight-edge!" and later, "You're damaged, you're not whole."
And he calls saying i am beautiful, that he misses me. Somehow after two years and six days he still thinks that it is love in his heart. But his actions batter worse than words. And he still ignores my requests, doing what he wants anyway. I told him not to come, yet these idiot flowers sit staring at me, mocking me. My cheek still burns with anger from the kiss he planted as he left.
29.January.01
I remember when there were never enough empty pages. Times when it seemed there wasn't enough paper in the world. Perhaps that time has passed away, and the will and want to give birth to something amazing has died. The abundance of pages now sit on the shelf taunting me, like frozen embryos waiting for a chance to thaw.
02.April.01
We shared a bond that seemed to bridge distance, ignored time and rational thought. Everyday you reminded me why i loved you, and why i needed you. Then suddenly the bond was tested, and yours seemed to break, as if you just dropped it. Ignoring my calls, cards and emails...But i wonder-- do you secretly wait in anticipation for the next green envelope i send your way?
For BGJ
I listened to you sing tonight, strained to hear as the worn tape faded in and out. I remember the song you were writing for me, the soft chords that wafted their way into my heart, like the smell of coffee that always seeped into my clothes and hair. I think about the letter hidden away in a mint box that said you'd never let go of my heart, if only i wouldn't outgrow yours. And i wonder if you ever finished my song, or did you forget about it, along with the rest of your empty promises.
19.April.01
Sometimes i ache deeper than an ache. It grabs at me and clings to me like a grass stain that rubs through the cloth, smearing and embedding itself into my skin...along with bits of grass that fuse themselves to the rubbed down skin. The stain still remains when the skin has been rubbed raw. Rub all you want, the green will stay for days. So you remain embedded in the memory of my soul. And the attempts to erase you have availed nothing.
Angel Caught on Fire
She's going deaf in the silence of screams that don't materialize, Blind from the pain of seeing her own ignorance. An ignorance gained from the knowledge of things she shouldn't know. She stands in the brightness of flames enveloping her, but not touching her. The cold darkness outlining her flailing frame hurts worse than the fire around her could. And she weeps- longing to be burned and singed. Anything to rid her of the cold guilt surrounding her.
Stretching the Stitches
THere are straight ends sticking out on both of my sides, and an anchoring knot in the middle of my chest. I reached too far behind myself today and felt both ends tightening the knot. My forgetful grasping for the bag shot a bolt through me-- and i thought of you, and how your words are tugging from both ends, and hurting me somewhere in the middle. Yet i still helplessly grasp for that bag behind. It still remains too far for comfort.
03.June.01
These tears will not cease their constant flow from my swollen, fatigued eyes. My pillow is marked with black smudges of makeup smearing the flowered pattern. I realize as I look to You that i know how to dam the rivers. Yet i sit here as if powerless, letting the weight crush me, when all i need to do is lift my hands. So i add a few more smudges-- not for sorrow, but for my own stupidity.
4.June.01 I'm sitting here, listening to the rough voice that swims out of the speakers singing : "You don't meet nice girls in coffee shops." I think perhaps it is true. Today i don't feel like the nice girl they all think i claim to be. Instead i sit here sipping my diet coke through a straw-- and i realize that i dont even like diet coke, just its lack of calories. It reminds me of me.
8.June.01
It was 3am when the phone rang. My still sleeping aunt handed it to me- "It's one of your friends." I was shocked to hear your voice on the other end.
You said my sister had given you the number last week before i left. I pulled the phone into the too-small closet to better hear you. Immediately you began to beg and plead--
A million excuses and I'm sorry's. Soon i heard your voice break as you began to cry, "Please, I love you, can't we try?" Then the phone was dead, and i stared at it in confusion.
As if by magic it began to ring again-- my eyes shot to the clock...9:30 screamed at me in bright red. And i knew it was only a dream.
Here again I sit tonight. alone with my thoughts. My plate sits cold, the vegetables carelessly pushed aside. At this moment food is the farthest thing from my mind. All I am capable of, a blank stare, mind far from clear. There are no words to describe the feelings inside of me.
As I stare into the void that is my heart, visions of you flash by, visions of the stuffed rabbit I hold close every night. I look at these empty seats, only to be reminded of how truly lonely I am. This house is so silent. My heartbeat and rythmic breathing seem to echo throughout this expanse.
You don’t see the feelings I’m trying To convey. You don’t notice the looks I send your way. Another night secluded, another night I can get away with tossing dinner down the drain. As I turn on the faucet to rinse my plate, I can’t help but think how lonely it is. Sitting alone, at a table set for eight.
24-May-99
Why is it I can’t say what I feel? I have so many things to tell you, yet I rely on subtle hints, and songs I play on repeat. And still I can’t say what I mean. Tonight was one of the hardest yet, I searched for reasons to be near you, To feel your hand in mine. Lame as usual, but effective, at least for a little while. Just today I noticed your eyes. Funny, I always seem to notice eyes first. Not with you; it was your smile. A smile to make me feel special, to make me feel wanted. I tried to tell you what was in my heart. Explaining isn’t easy for me; I don’t quite understand it myself. So until the day it all seems clear, I write you another poem, Cast you a longing glance, and cautiously, offer this heart of mine.
It seems immature, like thoughts of a child. I hear you say she’s wonderful, she’s everything you’ve ever imagined. And suddenly I’m filled with confusion. Is that jealousy I feel? Jealousy aimed at beauty’s poster child? Can I ever get you to see me the same? If I change my hair? Change my makeup? If I can’t, so let it be. I’m not her, And she’s not me.
Labels & Legalism
Who are you to define me? You claim anarchy, but you really mean legalistic ideas. You say I can’t be me, Because I don’t follow the code. The code according to who exactly? Who are you to judge me? Who cares anyway? Did you ever notice that while you’re running around placing labels, I run away, avoiding them? I’m just me. That’s the only label I need.
My heart is in my way
I thought I could handle my feelings. Thought I could control my heart. Yet when you’re here, I want you to be closer. And my thoughts drift to you during the day. I thought I could make it stop and I thought I could harden my heart. But now there’s a new feeling. One day without your attention, And jealousy wells up in me. Did you notice, did you see? Or were you trying to ignore and forget me?
What are you?
I am a girl. I am loving life. I am a punk. I am a trip. I am independent. I am not always in control. I am a mystery. I am a survivor. I am oddly eccentric. I am ambidextrous. I am a Christian. I am extremely hyper. I am free. I am on the brink of insanity. I am smart. I am a doer. I am a procrastinator. I am adopted. I am short. I am a red-head. I am sometimes an angel, sometimes I’m not. Some days I’m happy, some days I’m sad. At least, these are all the things they tell me... But what am I truly? I’m tired of trying to explain myself to you.
Staring at a strobe light
Love isn’t real. It has been cheapened somehow by those who claim love and all it entails. Yet their hearts change so quickly and easily. People are in love with their ideals and expectations of love, without ever having truly loved. They may truly never know love because of their distorted views they hold dear. So I say love isn’t real. Life is pathetic and sad once again.
What’s so great about “The Man in Black”?
Here we go again, sitting, talking. Looking at each other like not a day has passed. I could sit like this forever. I’d learn to forget that we were ever gone from each other. The thought is nice, but not practical. You’ll go your way, and I’ll go mine. When I turn to walk away, I don’t know if I’m shaking from the cold, or from having these feelings again. Will we ever be able to sit without the awkwardness and tears? Or will we succumb to our fears? Time will tell.
Boredom
Where do thoughts come from? That deep, intimate place in our heart or our heads? Who knows and who cares? From the day we are born we are taught what to think and what to say. Our country is supposed to be free but it isn’t. We’re supposed to be free thinkers but we’re not. As soon as we learn to think independently we are labeled as weird outsiders, lovingly being ostracized from acceptable company, we are the low class, good for nothing scum of the planet. We are your worst nightmare, enthusiastic, creative, open-minded free-thinkers. We aren’t Generation X, WE are Generation Get the hell out of my way, or I’ll find another. We will one day be the future; in charge of the government, communities, schools, and churches, we are all you’ve got. So respect us now, we’ll also control the retirement homes.
Life without Rain
I’ve never met a person yet that hasn’t had something say about rain. Everyone dreads it, and wishes it would come back, when it is more convenient for them. I thought myself to be one of those people, Simply putting up with the rain, until it was over. I never thought I would be bothered by it’s absence. That is, Until the rain was gone. It was only then that I realized just how much I truly treasure it, and depended on it. For comfort, and for friendship, just for being there. Without it’s gentle sound outside my window, I found it hard to sleep at night. The days seemed longer, and it became harder for me to relax and become comfortable. I’ve tried to replace the rain on my own, Tried to trick my mind into believing that it’s back. But there’s a big difference between rain, and tears. Even if they both can soak through to your soul.
I see the things that have happened, I look on them in sorrow and confusion. The things I meant to say but never did. Times I tried to pretend. How do I begin to explain these things as they truly are? All the time worrying about what you think of me. Have I really ruined everything? Should I have told you from the beginning? Everyday it seems things have changed, Everyday it gets harder to look at you in the face. Do you know the truth, and all that has taken place? Did you see all along, watching from a distance with disgust in your eyes? How can you look at me the same if you truly know what has crossed over my heart? I once could claim ignorance. Pretending to be a naïve child, unaware of you lingering stare. I feel like I am going to drown, pull myself down. Losing everything thanks to these constant tears I hide. Trying to be strong, not letting you see me cry.
My heart can tolerate abuse; I can handle my own pain. Seeing the pain of another, knowing I caused it to be worse, My heart tears and nails itself to the wall, ready to be ripped by the look in your eyes. Is all the pain worth the momentary joy I felt? Was my brief moment of feeling special worth the hurt I caused? It seems to me that I always want what I can’t have, Only to realize that what I already possessed was more important. Each night I look back on what I have done, Every morning I can hardly look in the mirror. Through out my day thoughts fill my head, questions I can’t answer. And when you are here I feel I have to wear a mask. My mask to hide. Hide the shame, hide the sorrow, hide the apologies. Hide the truth. I want things to be just the same. But it seems you’re slipping further and further away. And I am left with these tears I can’t let you see me cry.
The words you choose, the looks you give, They tell me that I am special. They whisper my place in your heart. Through all decisions and times I’ve caused pain, Your words still whisper. I am so afraid to listen to the words, Take in the glances. So many times before I have heard these words, Felt these types of glances, So many times my heart has been ripped. I take all of your words in with caution… Afraid of what I may start to feel. Afraid already you mean the world to me, But what should I feel if our words were the same? Once we take that step we can never go back. So I walk quite cautiously down this path. Until the day it is all clear, I listen to your words, take in your glances. Hear your voice echoing, in my ear… The sweet whisper telling me I am beautiful.
I thought I knew what you wanted, yet I was wrong. But you said, “That’s ok, I want you.” Yet you still say, “No not blue, try red instead.” “Try a little more gloss.” So I tried and tried, to the point of surrender. If all you told me is true, I can be myself with you. Again here I sit, primping and fussing, trying to make this outfit make me beautiful. I picked it out for you, but my place has been taken. Where does that leave me? I am all dressed up, with no one to impress. No reason to wear this dress Why is it you couldn’t see? I guess now I’m finally free to be me.
10:38 pm
The things I think rarely make sense, i think. So i sit and ponder my oddness. Is it real? Am i posing it? Am i the poser i so loathe? Why do i long for a companion, someone who will find me irresistable... I'll only tire of him in a month, And become annoyed with his constant devotion. Why is it I have no dream boy? No ideal mate to love forever... Am i purposefully alone, or is it the hand of fate? The things i think don't make sense, i think. So i ponder my oddness.
Tonight you showed up, unexpected, And I couldn’t help but gasp, as I busied myself with the trash. I am quite sure that my heart stopped, so surely as my brain did. I was too frightened to reach out to you, to even touch your arm, or hand. Scared to death that I'd be reduced to a puddle of senseless, girlish goo. Upon getting home, making the trek to my room, I cried out more than I have since your departure.
I hear them murmur of her. She is beautiful beyond words, they say. The beauty in her heart matches, even exceeds that of her face. Her hair is soft, and faintly scented, caressing her cheeks when she moves. Her thin eyebrows form dark arches over her sparkling eyes, with dark eyelashes reaching out to the heavens. The creamy skin of her face is set off by the browned-down red lipstick she applies to her full lips. They say she has a flowing clear voice. And her intellect is beyond measure, the thoughts she sets before her peers are astounding, dripping of maturity and skill. Strange that such wit is inside such a beautiful shell. With her simple elegance, and laid back manner she inadvertently draws attention to herself. She holds the heart of any young man she chooses. Perplexed, I beg a name, and am shocked to see... For when I look in the mirror I see none of these things, yet they say the murmurs are all about me.
Somehow a compliment, yet not. What you said wasn't what I thought. Your ideas confuse me, and I'm trying to make you see... THIS IS ME. I feel the need to improve but I don't want to move! These mannerisms are mine, still I'm trying.
06.FEB.00
I was upset at the situation, the decisions I made. I was hurting inside, so to God I cried. The moment the words had escaped me, I started to see, God the Father has set me free. The peace washes over me, my position I can not change. Now your face has started to fade. Saddened though I am at your untimely departure, I know it is for the best.
Clock Basic
Sometimes I think I'd like to return to the days of my infancy. Days when I depended on everyone, and no one depended on me. Back before I had the awareness of things I wish I didn't know. Before I had such hard decisions to make, before my heart knew how it felt to break. Yes, sometimes I'd like to be a child again, but if I was, wouldn't have the chance to squirm and grow, or the courage or drive to let you know. You think I'm dodging questions, I'm only dodging fear.... What will become of this if you do draw near?
It isn't easy to try and pretend. How long until my heart will mend? It's only been a few days but it seems an eternity... I sit and wait for you to call, saying you were wrong about it all. But you don't. So instead I sit conversing with my tears.
Last night I had to be alone, I needed my solitude to think. I walked outside into the cold, although I was already numb, somehow the cold cut through me. Yet I stood there alone for what seemed an eternity, waiting for someone to show up. No one in particular, just someone, anyone to take away this ache. I stayed there shifting form one uneasy foot to the other until the wind became razorblades at my cheeks. I went inside to escape the painful cold, not wanting a worse affliction. If only it was that easy to rid my heart of the razors you left behind that slice at my heart every time a thought of you sails through my mind.
24.feb.00
I was sure I would see you that morning, as I stood in the rain. I ignored the cold cutting rain and early morning wind with my anticipation. As I pondered the conversation to ensue, I imagined a scene so sweet.... Thoughts of how utterly romantic it would be to kiss you in the early morning rain. Call it star-crossed ideals, or plain bad timing...I never saw you. When finally we did meet, there was no chance of memory so sweet. When we talked, the words cut, exposing frailties I wanted to hide. Yet, as is your character, you took me in your arms, holding me close to stop my tears... Eventually I got the kiss I'd so longed for, only now it was a bittersweet moment. A moment that seems to have closed a door, rushing you away from my side. How could something so tender and warm cause so finite a reality? Leaving me with a box, a card, a dried rose, and ever-fading traces of your cologne.