Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘relationships’

I feel vulnerable and my body aches

with uncertainty.

I become anxiety

when my plans tank.

But I still want to hear about

your day.

What happened in class—

the notes you write her,

the next drawing you make.

 

My eyes are always inside screens,

my mind on what I need to do,

my hands on something

I believe is more important.

But it isn’t.

Nothing is more important.

I need to turn and face you.

Time is not running out—

It is right here.

And so are you.

 

I am not young enough

to walk next to you in the halls,

and not old enough to

pass off as your mom.

I am in-between friend and parent,

wanting to have more power,

to give you what you need,

What you want.

I care too much

about your fingers, your music eyes,

your swollen heart.

You are not my child, but you are

worth all my time.

 

You are not the reason

I worry about money,

about where I will end up.

I feel your gratitude

even when you are distracted—

We all get distracted.

I feel like I always am.

 

My uncertain life would be hollow

without your stories, music,

and yearning to be heard.

 

Yes, I am scared.

But if you ever left—

There is nothing that scares me

more.

 

 

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Grad school and relationships

have the same process.

 

You fall in love, even though

you said you wouldn’t

 

when he left you on the stairs

Monday morning,

not even an apology text after.

He didn’t want to give you

a chance,

even after he paid for dinner

and listened to your life story—

 

He pretended he didn’t know

your name.

you became a statistic,

a Facebook friend,

a paper tucked underneath

all the others.

 

You hear about someone

just outside of town.

He is looking for someone—

but you know it can’t be you.

 

No one thinks you have

the right credentials.

You should just find a job

and stay home.

 

You decide to send him a letter

anyways,

 

Almost don’t include the return address.

When rejection is guaranteed

it takes the edge of

the deep-rooted

devastation.

 

He calls you.

Your face buzzes,

a moment packed with

so much—

happy.

Drunk

on the phone’s heat

 

After the first date,

he moves in.

The talk of children—

you lose your appetite

for the left over pizza

in the fridge.

 

You are too tired to make love,

but he doesn’t understand.

he wants to see more of you,

 

He gives you a ring,

and you stay up

flipping through the

wedding magazines,

writing down vendors,

asking your friends what they think.

Their opinions

Their ideas,

Their feedback.

 

You don’t know how you feel

about anything.

 

You don’t remember what it’s like

to have nothing to do,

to have a moment where

you aren’t falling behind.

The date is rolling towards you

like a runaway wheelbarrow.

You don’t know if you should

try to stop it

or run away.

 

But in the middle of the night,

the moon is between

the tree branches

and nothing needs to happen

right now,

 

And you feel him next to you,

stuck in a dream,

But he is suddenly

the most real part

of you.

 

When he turns over in bed—back to you

and you are wide awake,

You trace his spine

with your fingers

and feel his warmth.

It isn’t until then

you realize

you have never loved anything

quite this much.

 

Read Full Post »

Does his dresser still have our initials

carved into its side

with a knife-made-heart

framing them?

I wonder if you feel how deep

the markings are

with your index finger—

 

On the mornings he

goes to work,

you are left with

a naked mattress.

Or maybe you convinced him

to get a comforter set.

Maybe he makes his bed

now.

 

When it rains, does he look

at you?

He stays in his room

and doesn’t take

his medication

so he can feel the pain

a little bit longer.

He is trying not to yell

at you,

so he ignores you

instead.

 

Do you stare at the toy

in his therapist’s waiting room?

The one that has the beads

you can slide along

the green, red, yellow, blue

skinny rods—

The roller coaster controlled

by little hands.

 

I hope when he takes you

to New Jersey

he buys you dresses too.

I want you to have

a caricature done

of you two

at a festival

and I want him to

smile at you

when you dress up

and when you don’t dress up

and when you are in sweats,

concentrating hard

on your laptop screen.

 

I want him to ask you

what you bought at Target

with your mom,

how your day was with

your best friend,

what you had for dinner—

 

When you see your

reflection in his TV

I want you to feel real,

and not like a character

in one of his

video games.

 

I couldn’t be the girl he drew

in his comics,

the one who always saved him

from the dark monster

living in his mind.

Thank you for being

the girl in the next edition

that takes over.

I no longer wonder

if he fell out of frame.

 

I live in another story now

and there are no more pages

left for him.

Read Full Post »

All of you

Why don’t people

say that you

are their other

three quarters,

rather than their

other half?

Wouldn’t it mean

more

if someone

told you

that you

take up more

of their identity

than they do?

But that wouldn’t

be healthy,

or comfortable.

Would it?

Ideally no one

should actually

complete you.

You should have

all of your pieces

in tact, and even

labeled or color

coded if possible.

Heck, put a GPS

chip in each piece.

You don’t want

to lose yourself

in any connection

you have

with anyone.

If you

are too busy

looking for

yourself

you won’t be able

to find the person

who has been

waiting for you

all along.

Read Full Post »

Photo credit: downtrend.com

Photo credit: downtrend.com

My ex-boyfriend

now works at

the gas station

I usually go to.

I resolve to never

go there again.

But then I

think over and

over again

in my mind

about things

I wish I

could say to him

at that gas

station.

 

Fill it with

the regular please.

The regular

bullshit you gave

me.

The regular attitude.

The scruffy facial

hair,

and glares,

smirks

and nasty

remarks.

Fill it up.

Use this card.

Use it up.

Like you did

to me.

 

I don’t need

a receipt,

because I

remember.

I don’t hate you.

I just really

truly miss

your

cat.

How is he

doing by the

way?

He was mine

too,

you know.

I think about

him

a lot.

 

Have a nice

day, though.

I don’t wish

bad things

for you.

I actually

do want to

know how

you are doing.

I want you

to look me

in the eye

and give me

my card back.

But it is

the only thing

I want back

from you.

Because I want

you to keep

what I meant

from the past

even if

I wish I still

had it.

Read Full Post »

Seeing you

Photo credit: ginaandryan.com

Photo credit: ginaandryan.com

I really like

the expression

“I am seeing

him”

rather than

“we are together”

or

“we are dating”

even though

it means

the same

thing.

I love the

concept

of seeing

someone

because

it sounds

like you

are just

looking at

the person,

which is

funny in of

itself.

But then again,

at the same time

it’s like

you are seeing

something

in the person

that

no one else

can

see.

Read Full Post »

Animals often get

caught in the middle

of relationships and

breakups and

make-ups

and fights

and all that

sort of stuff

that all leads

to pain and losing

that animal

to some pet store

or some other home

or the other person

or some farm.

 

My relationship

became my chinchilla.

And I don’t mean

it revolved around

my chinchilla.

I mean, my relationship

became expensive,

messy, and

loud.

 

My chinchilla

became a

metaphor.

My relationship

ended,

And Darby

is now living

on a farm.

 

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »