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Thursday, February 28, 2008


Love hurts like hot candle wax on your fingertips- burns and stings with real heat, but you try again every time to leave it perfectly whole- separation of finger from waxy shell ends in crumbled pieces as does lover from lover turned friend or enemy, heart wounded but fixable- just put it back into the candle.

It's true, isn't it? I mean, you wouldn't really think of it so simply, but I know I'm right.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008


I am through dreaming of you, sweet brown eyes. Uncertainty and distance may not have been enough to divide, but combined with hard facts makes it hard not to face the truth I have denied for so long. So, so long and farewell, good friend, for that is all you'll ever be to me; I am through with playing pretend.

Therapy for myself, general girly teenage angst of getting over a guy. Yadda yadda.


If I could answer all the whys and hows of love like she can speak words with ink paint and pen, I would let go all the caged birds of my heart and never fall again. But snow this long has kept me whole, and I will try my hardest not to melt- I cannot deny what he never felt.

It makes sense to me, at least.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008


It was a strange dream,
full of oddities
and wild things.
Her ears had eyes;
she sang for him to come closer
and expected him to keep a distance and stay.
She was least expecting his touch,
immediately being hurled backwards then
into his arms again.
He was scolded and kissed-
they ended happily ever after, anyway.


I am always surprised to see her scars,
Thick parallel lines on her back.
Her body is so small in comparison,
And sometimes I feel the urge
To simply let go
and hold her close.
Because no matter how hard she tries,
Her back will never bend
Thick metal rods restricting the flow
Of what I know
To be something more than a still life.

For one of my good friends.

Thursday, February 21, 2008


There is no consolation
for this separation
except that we
were not meant to be.

Or, on the other hand, not fated.


It was contemplating her coffin
(in my dream)
that I thought something
I didn’t think often-
There is nothing
quite like

I bet if you just read the title Coffin, you'd think it'd be depressing.
I relish in shocking people.

Saturday, February 16, 2008


He had to try many times
just to find
my pulse,
squinting at my arm
and concentrating hard
on the tiny needle that
bounced up and down.
There was a whispered comment
beneath his breath,
meant to put me at ease-
“Your heart is so weak,
it would take me seven days
to finally hear a beat.”
I faked a smile,
and took his words
to heart.

I have a mystery illness...


It was after the toilet incident, rinsing out my mouth, that I realized freckles are the sun’s way of saying, “I have been here,” and burst blood vessels look very much like freckles and declarations of love. Sun spots and age, wizened with utmost care. Unfortunately for me, sickness fades and once again I am reduced to twelve specks of darkened brown, mirroring each other on their respective sides (smaller in size-) and merriment, less crowded, seems so far from here.

I always wanted freckles...

Friday, February 15, 2008


13 lines, 10 beats per

It was a cold night, my feet having crept
up to her calves. It was after we had
settled the dispute of iced feet locale
that she added, “Every time I think I’m
falling for someone, I just scratch this scar
on my neck and think- This is what he’ll do
to your heart. It doesn’t work very well,
but the least I can say is that it helps.”
The night shone through her open window shades,
and I promised I’d never be afraid
to give someone the power to break my
heart. It is a few years later, and I
am laying in bed, scratching at my neck.