6 posts tagged “m”

tell me what you would like me to do, Love.
tell me, how should i act?
scream angry hate rage and spit in your worried face? spew venom and tell you how i never trusted that you wouldn't hurt me? how you couldn't help it. i loved you too much. i gave you my everything - what else could you do but give it all back to me.
tell me how i should feel. heartbroken and desperate? should i cry, pure innocence and pain? act like i could have done something different, something to prevent this? i couldn't, i did everything. i wrote the love letters and handled distance with patience. i carried your baggage through security's examinations. i hid your scars under my dress and danced till the cotton massaged your stitches.
and i never asked for anything but a little attention.
i never needed money or entertainment.
and i truly believed this was my fairytale ending.
but then again, i'm young, and maybe naive.
yesterday's breakfast was 5 cigarettes, followed by a lunch of coffee, black. for dinner i had some m&m's and crawled into dessert with salt water tears.
i still have some energy left for fighting.
but i won't fight with you.
and i can only fight for us if you're in this with me.
but i feel your white flag whipping.
and i see your retreat.

i want to call you and cry.
hear your soothing masculinity.
feel the warmth of your body pressed against mine.
sometimes, i watch you from a distance. i watch you work and swim with the waves of people and seaweed wires. effective and efficient, with purpose.
and i love you.
you use to press me against secret back alleys. kiss me like a bass line, in steady undertones.  bring me back to the rhythm of our heart song. remind me of the lyrics.
you use to want me.
as if you waited your entire life for me to walk through the door.
and your eyes were passion fireworks lit excitement.
in those moments, you could have ruled the world.
then the sex stopped. and i had a fleeting feeling of what is happening. but i convinced myself we were saving ourselves for love making. that we needed time to reconnect.  that we were waiting for our souls to meet again. and that the touches would mean more, though now less.
but now i see how everything is different.
i've faded back to that girl in the distance.
i want to call you, so i can feel comfortable enough to start crying.
but i'll just break apart, lonely.
scratching dry eyes, bloody.

I met him last year, in a crowded bar, in a sweaty scene. I felt like I knew him. I fell hard, although I tried not to. The timing was off. I was nervous and involved. It was complicated, it always is. I waivered. He found another. I doubted the feelings, analyzed everything. Blamed it on the situation. Blamed it on him. Blamed it on me.
But my heart emptied hallow when I thought of him. When I reached for him and my fingers slipped.
I have said this all before.
But I'm living it again.
I met M when I was still with Bobby. It was intense, more then the word itself. It was a connection, an understanding, a conversation of silence. He excited me. I have had plenty of crushes and flings and one niters, some boyfriends, some boy friends, and lusty summers, but I have never had M. I am a sensual person, in paint and texture, and he watched me like a masterpiece, felt all the rough edges.
But I was living with Bobby. It was 2 years deep. And I analyze everything.
Was M just a symbol that my relationship was failing? Was it lust? Or another crush? Would I come to find him boring? I can't end one relationship and jump head first into another. I need to figure this out. I need to think. I need to, I need to, understand everything.
And I shuffled. I questioned all of it. And left for my pilgrimage, half a world away. Alone in Africa, M was always on my mind. I longed for him. But I knew no matter what happened, I would have to end it with Bobby (it took me another full year to do this).
I felt his retreat. He pulled his pieces. Another excited him and as he later told me, he was going to try and make it work. I knew, or told myself, that it couldn't be what we had. Try. Try. Try to make it work - doesn't sound to appealing to me.
Don't get me wrong - I like challenges and I know that there are many moments when you are trying to make a relationship work:
Try to pay bills. Try to be patient. Try to look at each other when you barely like each other.
But try to make it work in the first few weeks of meeting.
That is a try that doesn't entice me.
So our conversations dissipated. And I tried to make Bobby work, but ultimately it didn't.
I thought about M every day.
Every day.
Every. Single. Day.
Doesn't the flame dull? Don't we "get over" crushes?
And he thought of me - we kept in distant contact. An email here, a text message there, a show, a song, our band. Random contact every few weeks.  He would email me tour dates or music reviews. I would reply a poignant lyric.
Then Christmas came. The emails came faster. More frequent.
And in February he found this, my crying baby vox, my little secret keeper. He read my journal and I liked it. And I was honest - I won't edit or hold back because I know he is reading.
We ran into each other at a show in March. He hugged me a little longer then expected, invited me to the after party, introduced me to the band.
And in May I left Bobby. The night of our crying conversation, the night I moved out, M called. He broke up with his girlfriend - the one he met when I was in Africa. He was visiting family an hour North of me - we should get together.
We had our May. We have May. With visits and stolen kisses and the final disappearance.
He pulled again.
I felt it before he said it. I called him on it. He knew, I knew - we have a connection like that. Silent conversations.

I saw M at the Doughty show. He told me to not let it be over. He told me I'm not through.

He is right.
But that is not fair. I told him. Don't hold it against me - that I am still crazy about you, after a year, after two so-so relationships, yours and mine, after Africa and education and waiting for this feeling to go away. Its not going away, but that doesn't mean I'm ok with waiting.

So what the hell are we doing? Reaching back to the comforts of our old relationships? Leaving a safety net back there.

I'm ready to lay it out. All of this. That it wasn't a crush. It wasn't about Bobby or one night or lust.

I am head over heels, crazy for you.
Lets be spectacular.

Hi!

You look good.

You look so good that it makes me nervous. 

When you look at me my stomach drops.

When you touch me I don't ever want to let go.

I think we could escape everybody else. Run away, hand in hand, secretly laughing.

Do you think of me?

I think of you every day.

I try not to, but you keep creeping back into my thoughts.  You come dancing in on songs and memories.  You sit comfortably on the cushions of my daydreams.

Remember when I said I didn't want a relationship?

I was playing the safety game.  I was doing that protective thing.  I was scared.

I had never felt this before.

Remember when I said I couldn't end one relationship just to jump into another?

I was wrong.  I was thinking too much.  My head beat out my heart.

My heart is still bleeding.

Remember when we first met?

I was shaky but still trying to shake it.

Remember you called me your soul mate?

We had only known each other a few moments - we had known each other for lifetimes.

Remember when you told me you were patient?

Are you still waiting? Because I'm ready.

I believe we could work. I want to start trying. I'm not expecting fairy tale happiness, I just can't keep doing this.

Remember when I said I like you?

What a loaded understatement.

I think I may be in love with you, but I want to stop thinking.

I just want to say,

I love You.

i was going to do this during thanksgiving, but time often escapes me.....

2007 has been one of those years. like 17 when i found freedom between the chipped white metal of a 1986 volkswagon cabriolet or 19 when i found it in that $250 rent payment.  it has been one of those years ~ discovery, awareness, excitement.  being that i am no longer 17 or 19, i have come to the realization that those years are not my sole creation. those years are the collaboration of many; therefore, i will attempt to thank everyone who has made it one of those years (with no weight associated to the order)....

i guess the year technically began in january, but i have never been one for details and technicalities. to me, every year begins with spring, but i'll stretch my thanks back to february.

February

to Shelia for finally understanding sweat fest

and steveo for always being the first to get water

March

to Megan and Dan who are the only couple i would want to emulate. for finding your corresponding puzzle piece and holding on. for facing uncertainties with visions of hope and for burning me copies of the hold steady, hot chip, and arcade fire

to steveo for making me go to that shins concert at the efactory, despite all my belly aching

April - it truly begins

to everyone and anyone involved with or who attended the birthday bash (holy shit rain in manhattan), but mostly bobby for going, wilson for dancing, kelly for wanting to party, tifany for dealing with the directions, megan for turning 30 (and as she constantly reminds me, being the coolest person ever), shelia for understanding the pain that accompanies a night you just don't want to end - also to the cops who finally busted it at 5am - you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here

to terre for having the best birth date ever

to tom nofi who made for a modest night 

May

TO THE HOLD STEADY for reviving my love of music and lyrics and anything that gets your heart pumping, your mind racing, and your body so covered in sweat that you wish you were naked (well maybe not anything that does that, but live music at least) for the best show of the year. for being free, for having fun, for loving what you do. for the most massive night - window dancing, crashing proms, way too much delicious beer, for reconnecting with old souls

To M for shaking up my stale vision, to honesty, and being good with words

To seaner for always making me laugh, for turning 21 alive, for listening to everything and covering my ass on anything, for being my little brother 

June

to the kid who sat next to me on the plane ride to london for following a passion, despite the emminant failures looming ahead

to the lady who works for the world vegetable program for finding truth in simplicity

to Kenya for being so fucking dark and then illuminating with the first ray of hope (or sun however you chose to look at it)

to Mama Betty, Ibrahim, and others at the CCS house for making me feel welcomed and secure

to Abass for being such a friend, for believing the good in people, for your beautiful honesty and Amsterdam cookies

to my shikamoo Vanessa - since we first met i knew you were someone i would know forever, for believing i am beautiful and worthy, for being open-minded and sincere, for unabashedly sharing your life expierances

to Brittany for being real, for not hiding your true self, for listening to all my concerns and for dancing with the elephants in your living room

to Thomas for the delicious seaside feasts and that honeymoon suite over the Indian Ocean

to Light in Africa for showing me love and teaching me wealth

to Zanzibar for being paradise, for being beauty

to Tanzania for stealing my heart

July

to Sean for sharing music and culture and a long flight home

to Bobby for all your patience and understanding - you accept me  more then i accept myself - for being there when i come home no matter how hard i try to lock you out          i never felt so wicked as when i willed our love to die

to kelly for always making me laugh and this time for making michelle and steveo laugh too - they are stairs, not that difficult

to dan, shelia, nicole, sean, bobby, karen, steveo, jamie and others who let me go exploring through highline ballroom and to megan for joining the explorations

to Jersey for being home and having beautiful, private, quiet beaches

August

for Beasties touring again and Festival Pier (those aren't trains passing under the bridge, they are trails)

for killer tailgates at the Tweeter and steveo crossing into philly (more for shelia's reaction honestly)

for Wood Brothers being mellow and Prospect Park being massive

for stage storms, shoes dropping, wedding proposals, losing glasses, finding glasses, and long drives home

for joey and always being up for an adventure - to that guy at 7-11 with the face tattoo (or not a tattoo) and Spring Lake for dealing with geese shit by sending birds to the gas chamber (oh to be stupidly wealthy - or stupid and wealthy)

for johnny boy and pizza smoothies and modest mouse in the rain

to Conrad and Deeana for providing adventures and long drives to Lancaster and Tractor Beam and sweat

for Kelly in Lakewood for stealing the show and biting that stranger

September

for being the last September of my undergraduate career ( Tommy: hey, a lot of people go to college for 7 years Richard: Yeah, they're called doctors)

for shelia standing her ground at g love and at McCarren's - for sweat fest '08

for not getting arrested on the drive home from Farm Aid (credit: steveo)

yet another free hold steady show and for Dan, always the hook up, always the backstage VIP view

for my mom for being another year older and progressively less sane

for the Phillies!!! and my Dad for always getting us cool stuff like the last game of the season when we take it from the Mets

October

not for the Phillies anymore

for brownies and LCD Soundsystem and Arcade Fire

for the fastest bus back to Queens ever

for Bruce being the boss and Bobby getting us tickets (despite a terrible fight I recall over something stupid like school)

for Sean for being my partner in Philly - dealing with that crazy girl and my trivia teammate but most of all, my favorite dance partner and stage stormer and drink stealer 

again, The Hold Steady

for Halloween and my orange house - jumping out from behind bushes, costumes and wine

November

to Caity and Nick for twisting my arm and making me spend the night in Joey's basement, to brown otters, upper-lip-a-saurous, hungry turkeys and all the other wild animals found in SLH

to trips home in the sliding rain

to Terre for laughing till you pee your pants (or puking till you pee your pants), dancing at the Stone Pony, beers at the Brickwall and revelations in the dungeon

to Steveo for back seat advice

to Nicolas and Isabella and Max for bringing children back to my life

to Shelia for turning 30 and yet again, The Hold Steady

to Bobby for being extravegent

to Montreal - a winter wonderland

December

to finals, for signifying an end

to the ladies of the wreck for pajama parties

to Caity, Nick, and Greg - more exploring, this time with the festivities of Christmas

to my family and friends because you save me  

About two years into my relationship with Bobby, my wandering eyes focused on a spark.  It took some time for my vision to adjust, but once the fog lifted, I found myself staring into eyes that were staring back at me.

M. Steady was all the excitement I was looking for.  His voice was iced with sugar.  Syrupy sweet, he fed me lines that I had long been starved of.  M did not look at me, he looked into me; and he saw my soul as if it was this truth we had always known.  It made me avert my gaze.  It made me blush, rosy prickle heat scattered red on freckled cheeks.  It reminded me of my conscious, my dreams, myself.

Grasping and Falling. Bored and Lonely, I would often ask Bobby about the beauty he saw in me.  "Of course you are beautiful" was his common reply.  As if that was what I reached for.  As if that settled my doubt or appeased my desire for attention.

During secret rendezvous, M would break conversations of politics and music, money and society to laugh a "You're easy on the eyes". And it was the beauty I believed to be in me.  Simple and Inviting. Warm and Accessible.  I know Bobby sees it, but eyes become blind to constant vision.

I loved Bobby for being who he was, but I doubted our future because of who we were. My roller coaster life fuels itself on emotion.  Bobby is pleasantly content.  He likes his job, his home, and his life just as it is - with everything in its place.
Our relationship was good, but I was hungry for more.

M was passionate and shaky, unsure and exciting.  He had no money, but a job he loved and a career he earned through tears and heartache.  He had a vision.  And he offered no insurance or security.

For the first time in years the stomach cocoons hatched and butterflies tickled my insides.  Never before had I felt such intensity. Despite a futile resistance, I fell hard as my feet were swept from under me.

But this excitement left me scared.  When I got drunk, I got nervous.  When I got nervous, my fears flowed freely.  Bobby existed in bliss-like ignorance and M heard all my inners in not so charming tones.  But timing is everything and our meeting occurred on rocky seas.

All the while I was preparing for a pilgrimage and certain that I would not only discover the answers, but also come to find myself.  I braced Bobby for a breakup.  We had the crying conversations as I gripped for the reasons that had existed all along.

Safari is the Swahili term for journey.  My safari was rich in color and culture, in awareness and understanding.  Self-discovery is humbling, but not the fireworks realization you may hope for.  And some answers come long after you forgot the question.  You do not decide some and some do not come at all.

My body experienced others, but my mind always wandered back home.  Half a world away I still reached for M, probably groped too carelessly, fumbled in darkness.  Unanswered emails churned my stomach and I knew he pulled his pieces before finishing the game. Maybe it was already over and I wasn't finished playing.

He had once told me that he wore his heart on his sleeve. I was left wondering if he gave it away with every wardrobe change. I knew another excited him.  How could I judge?  How did I not expect this ending?

It took some time for me to realize that my sadness was not fully a loss of M, though honestly, I missed him.  Melancholy blossomed from the realization that something in my relationship was hallow.  Not missing.  Missing is too obvious.  You often know when you lose something.  More like glasses without wine.  I tried to fill Bobby in every cup, but I was left thirsty and sober.

I sat staring at the upcoming expiration date, deciding if I should still drink.