Category: love

Warm Summer Days Indoors

whynotstayinLeave a comment

There was a certain amount of comfort to be had in overheating, he thought, it was a constant of summer and reminder that he was alive, he supposed.

Looking through the windowed roof of the day room with the comforting presence of her head on his stomach he couldn’t help but wonder at the heat, even indoors with the overhanging shade of the trees above the day room, it was stifling.

He felt her shift against his bottom rib on the left side, the small huff of breath that almost said: what to do? but then she settled back down and closed her eyes.

What to do indeed, heat washed over every thing in his head. It was sluggish and he watched the shadows on the panes of the roof sway with shadows from the trees that swayed lightly in the humid breeze. What to do?

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They were wasting time he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He let his hand idly bush through her hair, burning up from the sunlight it had absorbed. He was glad she had stuck around, it was a good feeling.

When she was around he could pretend it didn’t feel like he was falling apart. Laying there on the floor in the heat it felt like the brittle glue holding him together had melted again into place, whole.

In the sun it was perfect, her hand rested lightly on his ribs, the knuckle of her middle finger skimming the patch of t-shirt over his heart. Time was passing by him at an alarming rate, it made his heart race — there wasn’t enough time to begin with, why was he squandering it?

A bell sounded from further in the house and his blood recoiled, the hand in her hair tensed and pulled at the strands, he could hear footsteps approaching. It had reached the hour, he should get back to work but his hand stayed in her hair.

He placed his other hand over her upturned one on his chest and closed his eyes, sunlight warming his eyelids.

It was oppressively hot but that was okay for him, it was okay for her and the footsteps receded almost as soon as they were heard.

goodbye

mariethearistocat1 Comment

you know, i write all these poems for you,

but what if when we meet again it’s different.

the world is still on your shoulders,

but in a new way.

your hair doesn’t flop the same way.

our conversations are short and stunted.

our awkward moments too awkward.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

when you see me again,

it won’t be like the millions of times i’ve played it over in my head.

everything will be different.

and, i’m scared as hell,

because i want our same.

i want our drawn out conversations about everything and nothing at the same time.

i want when you think of me,

instead of letting the thought float by,

to pick up the phone and call me.

i want our effortlessness and our groove.

the way we worked together was unbelievable.

i can’t imagine you without your snide comments and brilliant random thoughts.

i can’t imagine you with me, without our little quirks.

if we meet again,

it can’t be anything different,

because then we’re already too far apart.

we’re in different universes

when we need to be in the same rooom.

for you.

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

i think about you everyday.

sometimes i welcome those thoughts.

sometimes i try to push them

as far into the back of my mind as possible.

today i’m choosing the latter,

but lately i haven’t had much success.

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i loved you so much i hated you.

i hated the way i forgot about

everything

once you started to speak.

i hated the way you asked me how i was

and the way you looked at me

because it made me break

into a million pieces.

i hated you because you were kind and

because now matter how hard i tried

you would never see how

every little thing you did made me

fall in love with you.

i hope you read this.

and i hope you wonder if it might be about you.

i hope you second-guess yourself,

like i always did,

and i hope you replay

every image you have of us

to see if you can find any similarities

between my words and your memories.

maybe then you’ll miss me.

The Crystal

localdreamerwithapen1 Comment

“Strikingly beautiful,” he mumbled, while setting the crystal back on the heavy wooden desk. “And you’re sure it’s magical?”

I have to chuckle, distractedly, still staring at the emerald-and-gold-shimmering rock, that might as well be a huge, beautiful piece of beach glass.

“Yes, it definitely is magical,” I say, still notably distracted.

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“Well… what does it do? Does it like… give you superpowers? Can it freeze time? Can you kill people with it??” he looks so excited, almost spilling his boiling hot coffee he is holding in his scarred hands all over the floor. The image of this huge, burly guy almost hyperventilating because of a little shiny crystal is straight up ridiculous, and I can’t help but laugh.

“It can tell lies from the truth,” I say, quietly, but he hears me. “It’s magical. I know it.”

He hardly looks hyper now, his face turns back to its suspicious nature that I adore so much, and I can tell that he doesn’t quite believe me.

“And how do you know that? I mean… what even… what?

“It had a note with it. In the box I found it in. And it said ‘I will illuminate any lie with the color of lies, lie to me twice and you will die.'”

“Okay. Now wait a second, you want me to believe you that this… chunk… a beautiful chunk, don’t get me wrong. But you’re saying it has magical powers?”

“Yes.”

“And that it can tell lies from the truth?”

“Yes.”

“And that it can kill people???”

“Yes.”

He stares at me for a second, and all his fascination has now left his face completely.

“What the hell Jamie? Are you okay? Did you fall on your head or something? I swear to God…”

“No, Mason, I swear, it works. Just look.”

I pick up the crystal from the desk and put it in my hands, holding it in front of me like a raw egg.

“Okay, I am going to tell it a truth now, and it will recognize it. Just watch.”

I clear my throat, and raise my left eyebrow, like I always do when I am serious about something.

“Crystal. Listen. I’m going to tell you a truth now. Trump is a horrible president.”

The crystal, making no sound, starts glowing brightly and warm, like you would imagine the truth to look like. Mason is staring at it, in disbelief I think, then turns to me, looking a little more fascinated again.

“Okay, now, this is pretty impressive. And good choice on the truth, I gotta agree with the crystal here. But that doesn’t prove anything. Maybe there are batteries in here. I mean, how would this even work? Tell a lie. Show me that it actually works.”

“Well I haven’t tried lying to it yet. I don’t wanna die, you know?”

“You are not gonna die, Jamie. First of all, this is a rock.”

“Crystal.”

“Whatever. What I mean is that it won’t kill you. Besides, you don’t have to lie to it twice, you’ll be fine. Come on.”

“Why don’t you do it then?”

“Okay fine.” He takes the crystal out of my hands, carefully, as if he actually knew how precious it.

“Okay, crystal.” He looks around, making sure no one is watching him. “A lie. A lie. What is a lie?”

“Just say ‘I love Jamie’ or something.”

He looks down to his feet, a little too nervously. “No. Uh, something else.”

“Come on just say it if you can’t think of anything else. ”

He looks at me, a little unsure, then sighs. “Okay. Whatever. Crystal, I love Jamie.”

The crystal lights up again, green and warm. I stare at it, not knowing what to think. I is green. It is warm. It is true? “You love me.” I say, still staring at the brightly glowing crystal. “You love me.”

“No, no I don’t. It doesn’t work. It’s broken. That’s it. It’s broken.” He looks nervous. Of course. He loves me, I had no idea. “You love me.” What do I do? I need to tell him. I need to tell him now. I grab the crystal out of his hands, holding it tight. He is just staring at me, probably just as overwhelmed as me.

“Crystal,” I say, with trembling voice, “Crystal, I don’t love Mason.”

The crystal begins to glow again, but differently than before. It is red, dark, and cold blue inside. It’s a lie. It works. It knows. I love him. I always have. I had no idea he loved me too.

“Jamie–”

Before he can say anything, I grab his head and kiss him, the crystal pressed against our chests.

Everything feels green and golden and warm. It feels like truth, it feels like love.

prom

rufusdespacitoLeave a comment

the dresses flowed endlessly like water through a river,

curls bounced up and down,

and faces were perfected with more makeup than let on.

i didn’t think this night would end up how it did,

with myself falling more in love with you.

as i stared across the room my eyes landed on you,

sitting with others whom you don’t know quite yet, but you soon will.

you’re not how i though you would be,

you’re different.

but different is good.

i don’t know what it is about you,

your eyes, smile, or personality that captures me every time.

it’s something that makes me stumble over my words and lose track of my thoughts

it’s something that makes me want to know you better,

figure out all the great things about you;

it’s something that is just as special as you.

 

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

 

promise

faithfulomnivore1 Comment

do you remember when i broke your hat?

i stole it from you so you would chase after me.

we ran across the grass, smiling.

eventually you tried to grab it out of my hands,

but i kept tugging so hard

that the back just snapped off.

i apologized a thousand times and

told you i would get you a new one,

but you said you didn’t mind.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

it was worth the laugh, you told me.

“promise you’re not mad?” i asked.

you looked me in the eye

and latched your pinky finger with mine.

“promise,” you replied.

a few years later it happened again,

except this time you broke something of mine.

you apologized a thousand times,

and told me that you would try to mend it,

but i said i didn’t mind.

it was worth it, i told you.

“promise we can still be friends?” you asked.

i hooked my pinky finger onto yours

but never looked you in the eye.

“promise,” i lied.

him

rufusdespacitoLeave a comment

as my life begins to unfold,

I look to see him standing there,

waiting to see what the future holds.

 

I reach out my hand,

I reach for years,

but suddenly he disappears.

 

will he be there while I fulfill my growth,

or will all I see be the screen font?

oh, I hope I will see us both,

and not just the pure taunt.

 

years pass and we made mistakes,

but, you had left me with the strength it takes,

for I do not know where the answers lie,

maybe beneath the never-ending sky?

 

he is a man of immense kindness that will never minimize,

just as my love for him never dies.

 

Photo Credit: selfishmother.com

 

well-traveled hands

mariethearistocatLeave a comment

do you remember how it used to be?

when we were still innocent,

so much younger?

do you remember the first time you saw me?

i was wearing my cousin’s old tank top and a pair of shorts.

i remember the first time i saw you.

actually, maybe not the first time,

but i do remember the first time

I really saw you.

that stubborn piece of hair that never stayed in place.

your hands worn and callused,

but like home to the touch.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

your smirk that can still melt me.

i remember that night,

surrounded by friends,

when i knew i wanted you.

but, now it’s too late,

you aren’t the same boy with the messy hair and soft smile.

our hands are like strangers,

i’m not even sure i know how yours feel anymore.

the lines i used to trace,

delicately, so as not to cause any slight ripple in their perfect surfaces.

we’re strangers,

but unlike the strangers we were when we met.

now, the uneasy feeling is from lack of contact,

not the absence of it altogether.

i don’t know the new you,

you don’t know the new me.

maybe one day,

i’ll once again trace the lines in your hands,

feeling their gorgeous warmth on the pads of my fingertips.

maybe you’ll remember the little things i do,

so unaware that i do them,

and you’ll tell me about it,

like it’s a well-known fact.

what i’m really trying to say is,

when can we not be strangers,

when can we be the new girl and the boy with the floppy hair

that knew each other like the backs of their well-traveled hands?

26/1

whynotstayinLeave a comment

I wanted to cause damage.

 

I wanted to feel something, anything other than alone.

I wanted to live hope, to have tangible hope.

I wanted to have hope that I wasn’t dead

so I aimed to maim instead.

I wanted it to stop.

To know you’re just like me.

Photo Credit: threadless.com

I wanted the world to stop,

 

I wanted a chance to crack open the hearts that didn’t want me

and scar them. To see the same hurts on them as on mine.

I wanted to crack open every ribcage until I found you:

the heart that beats with mine.

I wanted to break those that are perfect to feel for

just a moment

perfection between my two hands.

But time didn’t stop, I can’t hear your heart.

Everyone goes on smiling, band-aiding each other’s hearts while I try to wash the blood off my hands.

I feel like bleeding out.

The only damage I can cause is to the heart in my hands.

The one that fell out of my own chest.

Homesick

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

I haven’t really been homesick since my fourth grade field trip. But lately, for some reason I can’t make out, I miss my home more than ever.

I miss my mom, and watching her in the kitchen, perfectly slicing vegetables for whatever masterpiece she’d be about to create for dinner.

I miss my dad and his weird ways, and how much more excited he gets about our dog than about us, but that’s okay because I miss our dog, too.

I miss my friends, being able to walk to their houses after dinner and watching Germany’s Next Top Model with their family, sipping way too sweet hot chocolate.

I miss the trees above our house and the lake nearby. I miss the smell of pretzels wafting from the restaurants as I walk my dog past them, trying my best not to let him snatch any food.

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I really miss being able to spend hours and hours in the barn, riding and taking care of my horses, taking them on long trail rides until the sun sets and it gets chilly.

There are many things, however, that I don’t miss. I don’t miss the people I used to go to school with, their constant judgement and disapproval. I don’t miss the ugly, gray parts of Germany, and god, I don’t miss not having air conditioning in the summer.

I guess being homesick is something natural, and in a sense I like how much it connects you to home. But gosh, I wish it would just stop.