37 posts tagged “rambles”

my head aches from that time when we leaned across the console and smacked foreheads in an attempt to avoid the awkwardness of not kissing. we've spent years not kissing, not touching. laughing and living and crying in the arms of other lovers. lovers who never knew that i loved you, that i love you. never knowing that there are nights when i lie awake knowing you will always be my future and my past and my present wrapped in a record album that we stained the first time we felt the bass line. the first time i mumbled the wrong lyric and you let it slide. you let me slip on the washboard, the cow bell, the ting, ting, ting of a triangle tapped in the background when cymbals were symbols and you know how i love the harmonica buzzing through my lips. i don't ever dream of your vibrations between my legs. i don't ever wonder if our excitement would drip wet. i don't ever worry that you'll abandon me like all the rest. i know you've purchased season tickets, life time tickets, front row seats to my extraordinary mess. 

so what i meant to say was thank you.

and P.S.

Dear Girl, you fall in Love too quickly. Fuck. You're always breaking. And yet, you never seem to be searching. You just stumble on their Converse toes, spill lager on their vintage band tee, and start laughing. Dancing.  They fall in love with you, immediately.  But you don't give your heart away. No. First, you daydream.  The worse death for your dieing breed.  Imagine sentimental scenes.  See future romance in smoky bars.  Crawling into back seats and kissing, groping, touching. Bodies wet from thunderstorms of excitement.  After weeks of casual flirtations, Love slips into your veins.  You wish those dreams turn reality. 
That's when they pull away.
Exit stage left.
And leave you standing, naked and bruised, before a captivated audience.
In front of the velvet curtain.
All alone,
again.

woke with numbers in my head. 5/27, 2 boys, 1 man, and 10% of ticket sales from a band i haven't heard yet. rolled over. from the slit of my eyes, saw 8:26. thought, family of 6, dropped to 5, picked up three, and put a few aside.  2 cats, one dog, 5 beds, 3 couches, an extra roommate. 3 years, 2 years, 5 months, one lifelong friendship, one dead relationship.
i was thanking you. between a backed out bar stool and a strangers jutted elbow.  squeezing my way through the maze of fans and drunks and friends.  your eyes, your eyes, staring in my head, with that same sad, pathetic longing you released the day i left. there were no apologies. there never have been. no i'm sorry's or begged forgiveness.
i shuffled, danced, two stepped.
thanked you, again.
excused myself from your presence
and went back to bed.

This dress had a triangular halter top. Tying around my bruised neck, barely covering my nipples. My breasts were full and round and spilling onto his white cotton tee.  The crowd was close and chatty.  He pushed against me for conversation. We don't know how to talk yet, but we know how to touch. And the music man was dull. Predictable and gray.  But we danced anyway.  And laughed, dreamed, sweat running from the nape of my neck to the small of my back.  The bottom layers of my tangled mess, wet.  You would still run your fingers through them.  Pulling strands apart, collecting lost hairs in your knuckles and nail bed.  I don't know how to read you.  I don't know what to think yet. I don't know what I want.  The tears and rage subsided some time ago.  The memories and questions have faded and rust.  What lingers is doubt.  The scars of burns I never deserved.  The baggage of cruel lovers and broken worlds.  Shards of glass that I can't pull out.  How I transpose his lies on your lips.  How lost I am.  It's why I keep the others within reach.  And why I call them when you don't call me.  I hope I'm not too damaging.  I hope I can overcome these insecurities.     

door closed. i crawled out the window. wrote lyrics for that band that's been asking. taught nutrition to female runaways. been selected to work in the Dominican. in the medical clinic. going to feed some poor and dieing. planned a trip out west. applied to jobs with the united nations. mailed away old memories. began the outlines of my tree. tattoo parlors, needles, ink. kissed the singer with callused guitar fingers. think i'll go see them at the pony on saturday. wrote some crappy poetry and cried. screamed and danced. had some dreams that left me questioning. went food shopping. second time in one week. drank some dirty martinis. spent a week developing curriculum and a day with nothing but movies. jo(h)ns. cusack and stewart. received some mix cds and words followed. shared stories with people in foreign cities. 3 hour yoga class. still hurting. finding a new path to go exploring. still dreaming. still loving, bruised hearts and broken bodies. still believe in tomorrow. still learning from yesterday.

he reaches through the screen with emotions and confessions. i knew they existed, but was surprised they were coming this quickly. and i think about falling in love. i think about how it all begins, always, all of it. i think about the last love and the one before that. i think about the differences and similarities and the impact of my actions.
i had a dream i was self destructing. i had a dream i was ending all of this. i had a dream i slept with your best friend and i saw you watching. and i knew that i was forcing endings because this energy is overwhelming.
i think how angry my father made me. when he packed his things and left. 30 years tossed with the slip of some new lips. because it was easier than confronting the confusion inside his head.
and i remember the boy who died too early. i remember that last conversation we had. when he was explaining the definition of soul mates. when he said not one exists, but many. and we choose. we get to choose one. one person who at one time becomes the love of our lives. and she might not be forever. and there are probably many more out there. but she is the one right now. and we choose to love what we can handle. and we try to handle what we chose.

when we find the perfect water, we'll hang out on the shore just long enough to leave our clothes there

we fall in love. with the bass player and the lyricist and the guy dancing circles around the sweaty crowd, present, but distant. this is why we write. the sad stories. the heart broken poetry. the memoirs where we realized we were still alive. still breathing exciting life and i started crying. in the pit, with the pushing and shoving and wet lust. stuck to my skin like survival. this is why the tears were spilling. fuck.in. joy,g so pure and honest. this is where the truth exists. this is where my future is. my past wraps its long arm around tomorrow's skinny waist. slides his palm down the zipper of my Femininity. pulls my loose jeanstight, against the pudding. fleshy pocket outlined by his hip. into the present. this is where we live.

something better than before.
we expected something more.
the third cigarette with the same cup of coffee. and matt berninger sings soft, sad lullabies. we pull away still, protecting ourselves from each other. talk about colossal expectations. you were always weird, but i never had to hold you by the edges like i do now. i read the heart wrenching memoirs. of sex and lust and mix tapes. the ones in which the page turns easily, but painfully. and sometimes, i have to stop and slow my heart from breaking. and sometimes i have to remember what it feels like to be touched. then my insecurities are overwhelming. break my arms around the one i love. be forgiven by the time my lover comes. break my arms around my love.

i woke with my fingers in my mouth
gnawing at each nail
releasing screeching tire sounds
and my head, compressed between crumb filled cushions
the couch, so comfortable during those final few moments
of open eyelids
right before we slip into consciousness
and truth
i woke with my left shoulder rolled
around my chest
and bent between flesh of breasts and sensitivity
my bicep tense
trapezius fibers tugged like taffy
now tender and sore
and in need of some therapy
this sunday morning i think about reading
skipping yoga
drinking coffee
and listening to the blue jay bully the finches at the feeder
that has been empty since last October
one side feels like fighting
cold and annoyed and in pain
the other feels like flying
and celebrating
life
a new way
on this sunday morning

*the best lessons i ever received came from my mother:
1. don't waste your time with bad kissers, it's not your job to teach them
2. believe in yourself or no one else will
*i'm most proud of my education; no one gave it to me, no one can take it from me, and i feel unbelievable lucky to have collected this unique body of knowledge
*6 hours of sleep last night, a two hour nap today, and i'm already thinking about going back to bed
*every year begins in spring. New Years is really just the final celebration of last year - it is the entering into the last chapter of the last segment - the new year truly begins in march
*i should read more novels
*sometimes i worry this is too intense
*i should have cleaned my car today. and my room. and paid those bills. and did that homework. and visited that sick friend. and called my grandfather. instead i wrote some, bought concert tickets, walked 5 miles around the reservoir, ate delicious buffalo tofu, made homemade chocolate cihp cookies, and watched a movie with my brother, my best friend
*i'm really excited for opening day; when do they reopen the batting cages? soon i hope
*i hold things back: things i want to say, things i want to do, things i think you won't listen to fully  or understand or needs you can't satisfy and might not even try to
*i ate too much cookie dough
*i haven't been to the dentist in 4 years; i've been wearing the same old contacts for 5 months; i owe my health insurance company 700 bucks and none of this will be rectified anytime soon
*will i be able to walk alone?
*get the ring from your family
*yes, i trust that you love me