i’ve got a cookie thing about you

given the nature of what we do, i shouldn’t be talking to you. you are so far off the food chain i should probably bow a curtsy and call you sir. 

or mylord. lol.

what it’s like coming down from the ivory tower, you ask. i feel giddy, disoriented.

damn that smile could send someone into someplace else. my ears are ringing. and all I can think of is how am i going to eat this cookie and can you just go away now.

more cookie?

i blink my eyes into morning, your smile the only one i see.

They told me that I was meant for the cleaner life;
that you would drag me through the mud.

They said that you would tread all over me,
that they could see right through you,

that you were full of hot air;
that I would always be chasing,

always watching you disappear after sleeker models—
that it would be a vicious cycle.

But I know better. I know about your rough edges
and I have seen your perfect curves.

I will fit into whatever spaces you let me.
If loving you means getting dirty, bring on the grime.

I will leave this porcelain home behind. I’m used to
twice-a-day relationships, but with you I’ll take all the time.

And I know we live in different worlds, and we’re always really busy,
but in my dreams you spin around me so fast, I always wake up dizzy.

So maybe one day you’ll grow tired of the road
and roll on back to me.

And when I blink my eyes into morning,
your smile will be the only one I see.

No Matter the Wreckage
Sarah Kay

like everybody else.

[..] like everybody else, i want to die someday but not anytime soon. I like dusk just as much as anyone but I think I’m becoming more keen on sunlight, waking up to the sweet & coffee in the kitchen & all those birds. there are plastic spikes on my windowsill to keep the pigeons away & I don’t know what to think about that. things like that fill my whole entire animal heart… thin heat from radiator in the library. frosty fields where I almost died & died again until I forgot what it means to die or stay alive.

it’s November again & most of us are still alive. this make me so glad except for the fact that it has to be said. I look outside & a black flock of birds erupts into something that’s never been described before.

“It’s November Again”, Talin Tahajian

crash. boom. bangg.

Years away now. Years my life without you near. Years in solitude and just like that you came back into my life. No signs, no hunch. No sting in your gut trying to tell you this is the day. This is the day you’re going to again meet the love of your life. You got rid of him and now the universe is giving you a second chance.

What have I done? I set you free. I have set you free.

a kind of loneliness.

there is a kind of loneliness that comes from being with people. the kind that is more about a recognition of the failure of communication. the gaps. like the other day this woman came over and i served her tea…

the woman told me of her career trajectory, which i have already heard in this same excruciating detail twice before. it involves a broken engagement and an incomplete PhD program. which she considers failure, having come from some ambitious North Shore whatever world. i don’t consider either thing failure at all.

still she speaks to me as if i am her judge, or confessor. i felt so lonely hearing her stories, because i know they are about her and her issues and her judges and have nothing to do with me.

i nod, sip my tea, thinking about how hard it is to really truly connect with another human being.

Suzanne Scanlon, Promising Young Women.

i give you six months.

nothing much that happens to us

changes our disposition. 

Really, you believe that? 

I think so. I read this study 

where they followed people 

who won the lottery, and people 

who had become paraplegic, right. 

You’d think that… 

you know, one extreme 

is gonna make you… 

euphoric, and the other suicidal. 

But the study shows that 

after about 6 months, 

Uhum 

Right… 

As soon as people got used to 

their new situation, 

they were more or less the same. 

The same? 

Well, yeah… 

Like if they were basically 

an optimistic, jovial person, 

they’re now an optimistic, 

jovial person, in a wheelchair.

If they’re a petty miserable asshole, 

ok, they’re a petty miserable asshole 

with a new Cadillac, a house and a boat. 

So, you now be forever depressed, 

no matter what great 

things happen in my life? 

Definitely! 

Great! 

No, come on… 

Are you depressed now?

Before Sunset. (2004) Dir. Richard Linklater

Robbie Loved You a Bit Too Much Sometimes

She was as I saw her the last time: confident, so sure of herself that she scared me. She was what I was afraid of, the kind of stability that would only suffocate me.

I should have not taken you away from her. I should not have come between the two of you. She was your soulmate and you, hers. You’re so steady with her like you could face everything together. Unlike us where everything was hot and cold and there’s days I didn’t want you, days I spent with people I thought I loved. I didn’t want you and you felt unwanted, abandoned. 

One look and she said to me, “Of course you’ll be here.” 

What I heard was, “You’ve done enough damage.”

And I imagine you in that bed, alone, where you should not be had you not meet me, probably living your life still, careless and free, alive and not dying. 

She said exactly that.

Just imagine if I stayed away just like she told me off once in a bathroom stall a long long time ago. 

But I loved you, I loved you! How could I stay away?

But she said I could have and you’d still be standing. She was right and I felt my insides crawling leaving, slowly but surely, seeping away like thin smoke. My insides no longer belonged to my body and I was gone for good. 

People talked to me and I heard them faintly but I wasn’t there. 

Jetter asked me what she said to me on our way home but honestly I couldn’t remember anything, I only felt like I should undo me.

I know I wrote once after Camden beat you up, you came to see me. You were sweet and I told you, you’re a Daddy now.

But as I lived on in this side of the story, everything got rotten. You were broken. You didn’t wake up the next day, you didn’t come to see me. 

Emma Glows at Sunsets

I don’t know her. But I imagine Emma glows at sunsets. She radiates like the sun. Even now as I am writing this, I could see her face smiling at me and it gives me warmth in my stomach. How tender she must have been with you. You smiled differently, you seemed happy. When I saw you with her, I felt peaceful. If you should be with anyone, it should be her.

I imagine all sorts of things about her. How she took her morning coffee. How she sang in the shower. How she glided on stage, singing and chanting her lines. I imagined the crowd inside the theater mesmerized by how she moved, how she spoke, how she shined. She had so much light. She was the light you needed in times of gloom and darkness. I was thankful for her, but only in some hidden parts of me.

To say that Emma is talented is an understatement, but she’s humbling, even more with a star’s qualities. You met her when you were working on music scores for one of her sold out plays. They took it out from Broadway, touring around the globe. You needed a space to forget me, and so you two met.

Joe told me this.

He didn’t mean to set you up with her, you just happened to be there when Joe, Shelly, James, and Emma had a dinner at the Bel Air. You were at the bar, drinking alone yet another night not long after we broke up. Joe dragged you to join their table.

You didn’t even say much, nor did she. But you and beautiful Emma, you two exchanged looks like no one else was there. You loved the way she smiled almost immediately, how enchanting that you couldn’t take your eyes off of her.

She drove you home that night because you were a bit tipsy. You gambled fate by asking her to stay the night and she did.

But she wasn’t me. She didn’t wake you up the way I did. She didn’t make your coffee the way I did (too much sugar!). She didn’t make you breakfast. She went into shower and head off to work. She didn’t say goodbye. She smiled at you from the door as if she knew you weren’t really there.

And just like that she’s gone.

And you were alone (and lonely) again.

But perhaps she did woke you up the way I did. She did make your coffee exactly the way you wanted it, and she made you perfect breakfast: french toast with sprinkled Swiss cheddar, or just a plain old blueberry pop tarts, piled and warmed up, glazed with honey. She kissed you goodbye and said would call for a dinner date, you didn’t have to do anything. She’s perfect and you fell in love head over hills for her.

Only years after I would know you weren’t with her. The whole time I wasn’t there you were lonely, working like a dog, then hopping from one bar to another, drinking.

someday. (5)

Last night I saw you again but you were half asleep. When you were half awake you told me you don’t want me to see you like this and I said I understand. I kissed your hair and left.

All those cookies you brought me, water and lilies. You don’t want life to get to me because it got you. You don’t want me to get hurt because it hurts you and it’s why you’re there.

I wish I could word this better, maybe someday.

 

what i do know.

it’s only september. i don’t know how many seasons i will be allowed to love you yet.

what i do know is that you have flown one thousand miles to stand in my kitchen, dropping chocolate chips into pumpkin pancakes

—like arranging freckles for the face of a perfect child.

“A Simple Love Poem”, Megan Falley

PTSD. (2)

That night I heard you whimpered I thought I was dreaming but you struggled on your side of the bed, waking me up just to find you sweating and crying.

You started to have these dreams, where you were fighting for breaths in a sea of sludge, you were crawling on legs you could not feel, you were drowning. You struggled to breathe for hours. You were crying and it felt like I broke apart.  

These nightmares were recurring, so I let you drink to fall back to sleep.  

But it’s daylight now, bright and sunny, and you’re drinking again. You have turned into a zombie, but subdued and mute. You sat by the piano, staring at the keys. I wasn’t sure you were really there. You hardly eat. Sleep got you restless. You just sat there, day and night and day. You barely talk to me, as if I too wasn’t really there. 

I didn’t really want to go and left you alone when everything felt unreal to you and you weren’t even there to feel, or to be. But maybe, just maybe, you wanted to be alone.

Maybe, just maybe, the sea of sludge was me.

I hardly hear you, holding back tears like that and you know I wanted you to say it, that I was there for a reason. But the truth was, I couldn’t bear myself to see you like this, every night, and day and night and day. I was exhausted.

You’re so thin, your bones sprouting out of your elbows. Your jaw turned sharp that you looked so different sometimes. I had to convince myself you’re just the same as before your accident.