promise

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.

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pieces

i hope i’m not asking too much of you.

i’m not asking you to fix me,

because that wouldn’t be fair.

i’m not asking you to accept me with wide open arms,

but i’d love that.

i don’t want you to be my friend,

because we’ve never truly worked as just friends before.

i wish we weren’t on different time zones,

we always fall out of infatuation when the other falls in.

i hope that we don’t crumble apart,

because i can’t handle another landslide.

just like i’m sure you can’t handle another person leaving you behind.

i promise i’d never walk away from you,

i’d never leave you stranded.

i can’t promise forever,

that’s too much to bear.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

i can only promise you pieces of me,

a puzzle with some empty spots.

instead of presents wrapped in bows,

i’ll give you my heart and soul

in the shape of little irregular pieces of cardboard.

i’ll wait for you to fit me in next to the edge pieces,

i’ll make it easy for you.

because, it’s so easy to see myself with you,

my head fits into the dip in your chest

like we were made for each other.

maybe you’re my final piece to the puzzle,

but i’ll never force you to fit with me.

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A Writer’s Battle

I’m craving to write something, but I simply can’t. I’m sitting here with so many thoughts running through my mind, yet none of them can leave.

I sit here with my hands immobilized while trying to think of what key to touch next. I’m mindlessly staring at the glaring screen in front of me trying to think of something to write that’d make someone in this world proud of me, but I can’t. My mind is empty, and my heart is too drained to come up with any creative concoction of words to form some poem or sad element of my life to send chills down someone’s spine just reading it.

My thoughts are begging to be expressed in writing, yet they’re trapped inside my mind, and I’m sitting here helplessly trying to figure out how to let them out.

Photo Credit: sarwrites.com

It’s just not possible right now. I’m trying to write for me – or, maybe, for anyone – but every time I start a poem or a story, I exit the tab. And draft after draft later, I’m left with tens of unfinished passages into my thoughts, and now I’m just here writing out every insecurity I can think of about my writing.

But even then, these words don’t even share half of it. They don’t share half the conflicts I face when it comes to my writing. How I constantly think my writing won’t be beautiful enough, good enough. That it won’t be something extraordinary, just something plain and forgettable. I’m still battling myself, trying to figure out the right words that accurately express what I’m trying to portray about myself, yet right now it’s useless.

In this moment I have nothing to share. Sometimes, I have so much inspiration I’m writing one blog post after another, one story after another, and I’m sharing one dream after another, but right now… I’m empty.

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A Series of Unfortunate Events Season 2

Just this past Friday, March 30, A Series of Unfortunate Events season two arrived with gusto. Streaming on titan platform Netflix, season two has expanded from eight episodes to ten and takes the views up through book nine.

Photo Credit: variety.com

This season sees the introduction of the two remaining Quagmire triplets, a swagger filled Nathan Fillion stepping into the role of Jacques Snicket, and a wonderful, fourth wall breaking, sense of self awareness that shows of this nature often lack.

While yes it does follow a predictable plot line, which was a problem many had with the first season: bad guardian –> something terrible –> Baudelaires escape. The beauty of this repetitive and predictable plot line though is it allows actors like Neil Patrick Harris (Count Olaf) and Nathan Fillon (Jacques Snicket) to really work their roles and have fun doing so, which is reflected as fully realized and sharp characters.

Photo Credit: syfy.com

The plot, instead of taking front and center like most shows/movies, takes a backseat to an incredibly immersive and rich world. Instead of trying to turn darkly fantastical source material into highly approachable comic realism (e.g. Marvel Comics), the plot champions a wonderful sort of self-realized, almost escapist fantasy that is unafraid to hit viewers in the face with a strong message of: This is our world, not yours.

With this world also comes the introduction of the highly secretive and, thus far, very vague secret society of VFD as the Baudelaires chase after red herring after red herring (ha).

Photo Credit: screenrant.com

This season is wonderful and keeps the Baudelaires on the move, it maintains the spirit of the books and the first season with dexterity, and manages newly introduced plot lines with ease. I recommend this show so highly it and I are probably in space. Go watch it.

Now I may be a bit biased by the fact that I get to see one of my all time favorite series on screen, if one is in the mood for a more comprehensive look at season two (spoiler warning) there is one here.

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a reminder

everything reminds me of you.

the summer nights that never really begin until 8 pm and

the smell of salt in the air.

sitting by the fire while the breeze comes off the ocean.

my wet hair soaking through your sweatshirt.

i miss that.

peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in ziplock bags,

mountain bikes and dust and

image via pinterest

the music we listened to and the long, hot

afternoon hikes that seemed to last forever.

smiles. i see your smile in every smile.

stars and soda cans and trucks driving through orchards.

pencil sketches or skateboards or grassy hills or pizza boxes.

trying to fit five people into the backseat of the car.

being too loud in movie theaters.

i think about you now because

i haven’t started any of my homework yet,

and i know you probably haven’t either.

whenever i think of anything, i think of you.

maybe that’s why i’m so sad.

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him

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

 

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three poems (that don’t have anything to do with each other)

Thank you.

A girl, pale and sweet

skipping through the sunset,

via static.tumblr.com

cutting dead roses

to put in her hair.

“Why, child,” says her mother.

“Those are dead!”

The girls nods understandingly.

“Yes momma, you killed them.”

_________________________

200 Glowing Stars

Every night, before I sleep

I lay down

on my bed in my room

in my home, our home.

via biggreen.club

It might not be what it was

before the fire took our flame.

but we have a tapestry,

200 glowing stars (exactly),

CDs and vinyls

and signed posters,

new favorite dresses

and a surprisingly healthy orchid.

It smells like cool air and rosemary,

a little bit like horse.

we have a door and walls

and a window with a view

on the top of a hill

with ruins that won’t be rebuilt.

but we have our room

where I lay at night

covered in a blanket

of our 200 glowing stars.

_____________________

Where were you

where were you when I needed you?

where were you when my house had no walls,

when the sun refused to look me in the eyes

and tell me I was worth shining for.

when claws ripped my pride

like a wet paper bag,

scratching

gnawing

beating up on me

over and

via i.vimeocdn.com

over and

over again.

Where were you then?

I remember your face–

as if it was a bad dream–

behind the mirror watching me

your hideously gorgeous face.

go away.

I don’t need you now

to make up

what you unrestorably took.

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