Run Away

Walk a little closer to the edge and leave your hand.
There are oceans waiting to be breathed. There are sands waiting to burn. There are seashells to be heard. And there are lives to begin.
My throat is so dry from all the songs I've been singing. To the world but just not to you. Years from now will I be doing the same thing? Will I be thinking as endlessly of someone else as I do of you now?
I'm disappointed in myself. Do you know what that feels like?
I have so much to say. So much to explain. Yet it's unexplained in my head. It's like china that breaks over and over again. It's cyclic and it's fragile.
I sit and trace words to their roots when I know I'm not supposed to. Wouldn't it be easy if we could choose what we thought?
I know I'm not enough. I wonder if I'll ever be? For you or for anyone else. Will I? You tell me.
Fragmented and unwhole. Seeping cracks and this wound that heals and unheals. This infected cut.
Weak. Very weak. Worthless.
I go to that place. I see those people. I don't see you. And I'm so afraid that I want to run away.

The Planets Bend Between Us

You are divided. In pieces, in puzzles, in fractions. Everything about you is disconnected. Yet when you come together, like the planets and the stars and everything else that's out there, you make up my universe.

The smell of fabric softener. Your socks and my Sesame Street yellow t-shirt lying scattered on the black and white checkerboard linoleum floor. The memories of you and I, with our backs to the cabinets, in this very room. The laundry - Our little hideout. The place sounds like comfort. It feels like us. Our scent in our clothes.

I look out the window. The bougainvillaea I forced you to plant years ago. It's still overflowing with the same papery red flowers, do you see it? The corner of the backyard where we buried those parts of ourselves. You'd walk out in the middle of the night to go check on them, return with tears. The birds that we used to feed together.

The fears I overcame while I told you stories. The mud we used to play in, the insects that fell in our hair while your elbows gently collided with mine. The day I got my nose pierced. The invisibility of time, of worry, of everyone else. Brand new and special.

The gun in the back of your closet has been crossing my mind. It sits there unused. Brand new and special. We are weak and selfish people. We've closed all doors. Closed our hearts. We've conveniently lost faith. Dismissed hope.

The floor is wet. My hands smell like detergent. No matter how many times I wash these things, they stay the same. I guess it's impossible to lose some things.

I once knew a boy. In the first conversation we ever had, he told me stop living in the past.

It's Not Just Dogs She Likes, It's Your Shoes Too

Hot tears. Stinging words. And the conversation's replaying, the time turner's spinning and I've landed amidst your drama Shiny Girl. Your drama is my misery.
You've taught me many lessons. You've been so selfless and forgiving. All those times I called you a whore, you forgave me. Oh forgive me now too, I'm having a little difficulty understanding why the world seems to be stopping in its tracks just to get a glimpse of you. Just to hear your melodic tunes, just to play one little round with you. So they can tell the others when they recover and get back that they once knew you too. Had the chance to see you shine. Bask in your glory. Your magnificence. Your astounding existance. I'm so, so sorry though, I fail to see it.
Sometimes she'll shine so bright, she'll blind you. Be careful there. She's that girl. The one that really shines.

Jasmine Around the Wrist

Mirrors, lately, have been my worst enemy. A constant reminder of lack of symmetry.
I'm just going to avoid them too. Easier said than done, though.

When we fall in love, we're just falling in love with ourselves.
We're spiraling.

I Love You, Even More Than The Phone Bills

I like how you sound restless. Even when you've just gotten out of bed. You should just let me hear more of you.