I once knew a boy who loved me when I was in high school and most recently told me about how when we would sing in his car he would watch my mouth make the words and one word that particularly stuck out was “nothing,” how the tip of my tongue lingered on my front two teeth as the word poured out of my mouth. As if to suddenly become self conscious, I now sometimes think about the way...
Anonymous asked: Are you in jail?
The ticking of your watch in my ear, a gentle reminder as your fingers delicately stroked my neck.
“I’m sorry I was careless with something more delicate than it seemed. I had blinders. I treasure you. My last letter was a map. I’m giving what I can now in hopes that in the future I can give more. I know there will come a time I have more time and I would love to share it with you.”
Like Letters from Douglas County Corrections
I got a letter today. It is strange having contact with someone who has no contact with anyone basically. In a way I understand, that disconnect-lonely hearts in each others gravitational fields. A strange infatuation. “I’ve had to sleep near so many dudes. It’s really no good. I don’t sleep much. It’s way better sleeping next to you. That’s a horrible...
Calls from the Clink
“We’re going to get cut off, but I think you are splendid, I miss you, and I wish I could sleep in your bed.”
As I fell to the floor I could feel that my heart was now lead. My fear had come true as I look at her stomach to check for breath. Tears exploded out of me as I lay next to her body with her paw in my hand. My heavy breathing gave the illusion of life, but she was gone. My best friend, my companion lives no more. There is a hole in my heart. I will love you forever and always. Sweet dreams my...
I miss your morning visits. I miss your sweet embrace. Worn close to me like a hip slung baby, adjusting with my every breathe. Your smell, saltly and sweet. A chain laying on your neck and sheets, your belly peek a booing from your sweatshirt. Your want to keep me with you as I reach out of your arms for the alarm. “I have to go soon,” I’d always whisper to the side of your lips with a kiss. But...
The loneliness is less crippling now, I’m taking back what I never had. Days made dreamier in a drunken haze, nights less cold in warm embrace. Fingers entwined, and shoulder kisses in and out of dreams like sun on my skin. Beacons of light like stars in the sky, twinkling, winking at me assuring me things are ok. Tenderness is a drug, when destroying yourself seems inevitable.
Today I crave your voice. Words and songs that make my heart flutter. I desire your smile; your eyes. Your arm draped lovingly around my body. Your lips caressing my shoulders as they are worthy of affection. you make me feel lovely, to feel worthy and strange. I want to feel your silky smooth skin on my cheek, your cheek smashed in mine. Let’s dream together. Let’s hope and play. Let me know your...
Yes and No
When we are together, I become unstuck in time. I cease to acknowledge my existence because I am overcome by it. I want to be with you. I feel light- the corners of my mouth float towards the sun. And as its warmth, reflected off of you, washes over me I feel happy. The heaviness in my heart stops, and just for a moment I can breathe. And so I breathe you into me. You taste like smoke and relief....
heart of glass
born broken, my heart needs glue. it need hands to hold it, to give it shape. it needs others to recognize, though it’s shape isn’t perfect, because it is so fragile, it is still a heart. I pushed you and your hands began to shake, you dropped my heart and now my heart aches. Who will love a misshapen heart? who will help me build a new one?
My memories are all wrapped up in you. That bedspread, concert ticket, book. They were ours once. Given to you out of love, what’s mine was yours. This house, those pots, this heart. Those things I gave you, they’re mine again, handed back like a gift unloved. My old life haunts me with smiles and kisses and love.
Binge and Purge
Despair. Not sadness. A black darker than the rest. Depression is shades of grey, despair is a lifestyle. The sad place I go to work everyday. It takes work, you know, to live this way. It’s not for the weak of heart. It is for the iron souled. The Tin men. “if I only had a heart!” The truth is I do and it’s made of tar. Covered in oil and can barely pump without the pain...
From kaleidoscopes to telescopes i was transformed. a chemical reaction in the heart; hope found in infinity. And now, as I gaze into the universe, I mimic the stars as I watch each one implode.
I came home to an empty home. My heart sank and as its contents slowly evaporated I find the note: “Dear Caitlinest, You will always be my heart. You are an amazing shooting star. Thank you for sharing your life with me. Love Robert My house is empty now. And as I lay down each night and hope that this is just a dream I am kept awake as my mind carves these words over and over into...
I Hate Sundays
Only in the ephemeral haze of alcohol and piano driven songs of David Bowie can my body capture what my mind aspires to feel.
I saw a dead bird on the sidewalk today walking to...
It’s easy to pretend in the day. The sunshine can blind others to my cringing smile. I only talk to people in public so I can keep my cool, not break down. They hesitantly ask me about it and I say “it’s fine.” But it’s more like a knife being turned very slowly, so slow you can barely see it move, in my heart. I know I’ll get used to it. I am a master of...
MUH BABY IS A CATLEBRITY!!! →
I guess I really never thought about what being an adult was going to be like until now, when I actually “am” one. I guess I just figured it wouldn’t be me sitting alone on my living room floor in front of a space heater listening to bossa nova and watching my cat sleepily squeeze his eyes. But I guess this is what it’s like, obviously.
It’s hardest at night. It’s hardest when I am with only myself, alone. Laying in bed with no one to hold, no warmth , no whisper of sweet dreamscapes to bring luck to my dreams. No sweet face to admire when I wake first. No sweet nothings as I fade into the tiny oblivion of sleep, only nothings.
two of hearts
The papers are signed. My heart is in two. I thought he’d say more, or anything for that matter. … “everything in the future seems horrifying” “if you kept thinking that than nothing will seem better. this is why we can’t talk about this.” … I’m broken.
though things are not perfect I am grateful to have had my life enriched by such a good friend.
Anonymous asked: You were in my dreams and we became great friends. I've met you maybe once before.
So sometimes when I drive home from the bar I feel completely awesome.)* slightly drunk I am able to understand the pure diva-awesomeness that is the Whitney Houston song, “I wanna dance with somebody” The thing is, this song is dated, and wonderful and the only way to experience it totally is to listen to it drunk. In my very modern car i can hear all the parts. The emptiness of 80s...
Reflecting on things that inspire me, I think I have found I am inspired most by other people. I like brainstorming in groups and listening to peoples ideas. I like watching their minds work out loud. I have always been around lots of people- my brothers, cousins, public school. I find surrounding myself with people unconsciously, all the time. I start groups and clubs, i take classes and throw...
love. love. love. so subtle no one realizes they are or are in it. every touch, breath, smell, look, twitch, thought is massive. measured with a ruler made for universes, we will never know the true magnitude of how we are loved or who loves us. like energy, never destroyed, but recycled love is around/with in us. expanding and enveloping, evolving. trapped in a cloak of invisibility. everything...
Up, Up and Away
With every heartbeat my world shakes. My insides, impatiently waiting to burst out. I want to tear and scratch and gouge and slice. I want to let them free, but instead I consume. Liquids, solids, breath and emotion. I am full of them all, and they are unsettling. In dreams I am missing pieces of myself. If only, to be in waking life, removed of that heaviness-or at least to not be full of...
My grown up legs failed me once. Maybe it was because they weren’t quite grown yet. Laying on the ground was boring, but crawling, that was easy. Fun even. There was no stress in it. I was traumatized, I didn’t need to walk again. Anyway, walking is for people who what to go somewhere. I’ve grown a bit tired of crawling, and walking is terrifying. When there is no one to hold...
Van Gogh Was Right
my teardrops crash onto the floor as i come home drunk. pondering the fear of the future and love lost. how disappointing this all as been. if i were my mother i would be crying for me. save your tears mom, i have enough for the both of us. the failure. the tears that i have always cried are recycled yet again, only more meaningful. the idealistic dreams i dreamed, were they just that? do things...