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Wednesday, July 30, 2008


Hell is melting in your eyes, and I have never seen so many lies in one place. A small novel scrawled upon your face, medleys of “I’ll try,” and “You’ll be fine.” I look away, but your hands carve forgeries as well, the fictional stories at which you excel. I cannot cut the cord of blood that binds us, nor can I hide (for God finds us all). Until someday, I can only close my ears when you try to say, “Everything will be okay.”

I hate it when people lie to me.


I love ___, and couldn’t live without ___r smile, ___r touch, and ___r eyes. It is ___ that I see in my dreams, smiling at me (no surprise- ___ always were the gentler one). Someday I will be with ___ again, lover and friend. Until then, I bid ___ adieu.
Always ___rs,
Without ___.

"Without You" or "Something Missing".

One of those.

By the way- not writing this on personal experience.
Just thought I'd put that out there.
I'm not a completely hopeless romantic.
I'm still in denial :D

Tuesday, July 22, 2008


There was a big storm last night, earth-quaking, hands shaking in the absence of someone to hold. The blanket served to cover the cold and muffle the sound and light, eyes closed against the flash of white and ears plugged against the beating drums. I fell asleep when the storm did, sky lightening at the edges as day approached. I dreamt of warm places and comfortable things, familiar faces I couldn’t recall upon wakening.

I hate thunder storms when I'm alone.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Mary/ Candy

I inherited the bag of cotton candy, last in the row and most eager to fill my mouth. I am remembering the taste and smell of childhood dreams, redheads, ice cream, and shiny noisy things. Once again I smell the vendors and greased carnival machines. I smile as the sugar melts, and I am back in the worn chair of the living room. I am thinking of you

They both end in why, as well.

Saturday, July 19, 2008


Ours was/is a notebook paper romance, held close between the lines and under the stars.
We were/are creased and folded in phases, worn with sleep and washing and fire lit places.
I was/am more likely to scribble out mistakes, while yours continue to creep shyly along the page (they are less noticeable that way).
You had/have the most beautiful brown eyes to read my words, stumbling blindly just to be heard.
I was/am not sure of anything- so for now, despite everything, I will fold us up and put it away.
Someday, I will reply.

Sunday, July 13, 2008


I got your graduation invite today-
there was a picture of you inside,
and I learned your middle name.
Some friends of mine
were there at the time,
and though I insisted we were only friends,
I was teased
in the way of joking high school girls.
You do not mean the world
to me,
and I do not put you before God-
I am still sad to see
that your picture is gone.
I suppose I must carry on,
and must do so without appearing anguished
(it is the worst thing to look
when being ambushed
by schoolmates looking for a little fun).
In any case, I've got to run.
Ciao for now, pen pal.

Saturday, July 12, 2008


He is hesitant with words,
gathering them into herds
before picking off a few
(weakest first).
I respond just as carefully,
and this order is fine by me-
without courage,
there is nothing I can do
(without thinking
too much of you).

Friday, July 11, 2008


8 lines, 12 beats per

Black plastic frames, constantly slipping off of my face-
narrowing my world to a clear window of sharp
details, otherwise invisible to my eyes
as they are, unaided. I long for my contacts,
but I must wait (patiently enduring) until the
prescription is in. The only part I enjoy
is watching the small rainbows form in my leanses.
The world is much more endurable with color.


I am no thing,
place or beast.
I am nothing,
in the least
of which I am