Eleven (11)

I am closing my eyes to see you.

I see you with closed eyes.

You seem,

In pain,

My hands are holding your face.

I am kissing your forehead.

Nothing else matters,

Although all of you matters.

But my love is leaving my lips.

The minute hand turns and I

Cross myself

Did you feel it?

That was my wish.

Future Lover

Future lover

We are getting ice cream.

I see you in the crevices of light, little chinks of golden glow between the palm leaves.

You are the reds (of course)

And the greens

You are burnished copper.

I never thought that sunrises were as spectacular

But you did.

We’re with your family, and they

Tell me sunrise is better.

Future lover, I took you for tea

You fell in love the way I did with

Nostalgia stacked,

What I had left.

You saw all I had to give.

You loved me.

I am more than enough,

My family tells you,

Get married in the morning.

You nod your head and silently smile

You know some things

are better.

Ex Lover

Maybe I need to remind myself,

Future me,

How it felt to be with him.

I don’t want you to forget.

Maybe it would help to trace the outline

Of his face and ask yourself

What more you wanted than this.

I’ve only listened to his heart a couple times

But I’m sure it’s full of things complex and tired just like mine

I’m sure he wants the same from me.

I’ll tell you how it felt, then

To kiss him.

Felt like sharing our umbrella

Oxygen tank

Felt like melting at the same rate

Newton’s law of slow unconsciousness.

If only I could describe to you,

The shadows on his body shape

Those were the places

My mouth wanted most, maybe because

I related.

Remember:

The backs of his ears.

It’s an uncommon thing to be allowed to touch there.

Please remember:

The feeling of being clean

Of being terrified, but safe

Of feeling wanted.

No, I know I’m wanted.

This was more than

that.

 

Resolved

Nope. Me neither.

I won’t make up any New Year’s resolutions.

I don’t want to boil down my future to a checklist. I want to spend this year and the next and every indeterminable length of time after those to continue to move forward, to always feel better and happier and stronger, to accomplish things I didn’t know I wanted to do. I will be better for the good things that happen without my expecting them; much less my planning for them. I will be better for the curve balls and the epiphanies and every single thrilling discovery I make.

After all, falling in love was a curve ball.

Essay writing was an epiphany.

Happiness is a resolution which can neither be written down nor ever checked off.

I wouldn’t want it to be.

But for my immediate future? Yes, I have some thoughts. Some guidelines.

I want to stop being ashamed of putting the highest emphasis on connections with people I love. I want to start being better at allowing those connections to exist; to reach out to the friends who were kind to me, who I miss, to stop ruling myself an outsider and cordoning myself off.

I have a feeling that 2017 will be a year that needs a lot of postage.

I have a feeling you’ll be hearing from me soon. /

Stuck in love

He watched my favorite movie.

He hated it.

How could I blame him, a film student, for hating a rom-com called Stuck In Love for God’s sake?

But what I feel right now is not blame.

I feel small.

I feel like the little girl who sat in her bedroom at night

on her pink and white comforter with the flowers

With a notebook in her lap and a pen in her hand

Who wrote fairytales.

I am that little girl

Who got called out of class

To talk to Child Protective Services in the main office

And answered questions like “what does your dad feed you?”

Who was looked at like she was stupid

By plastered-on concerned adult faces

Who just wanted to do their jobs

And bring in the bad guy.

But the bad guy was never just my dad.

He lived in my brain and slept in my skin since before I was born

He pressed his thick heel on my lungs and never let me forget

The heavy hand of conflict that never ever ceased.

Divorce, for me, wasn’t a word it was a life and my earliest memory

It was my backbone and my breastbone and every single fucking bone in me.

So when I sat on my comforter

And wrote about romance

Or that bright shining willow wisp I imagined it would be

I latched onto the boys like Lou from Stuck In Love. 

I escaped into stories of people finding each other

And I don’t care if it’s not real life

Because it never had to be.

Stuck In Love is a movie about writers,

About family

About a love that I thought was sacred in my room with my pen at 15.

They have the same favorite book.

They kiss in a car in the rain to the sound of an indie song about kissing in cars in the rain.

When Lou’s mother dies of cancer, they cry

And I always cry

Because this cheesy amalgam is real to me.

It is a version of life that I could only hope for myself

It is penned by a little girl on a pink and white comforter

And she is damned proud of it.

And she should be.

Two lovers converged in a dark emerald wood

Two lovers converged in a dark emerald wood

And the fork in the road led to the ocean

The dock opened up to the swirl of the the rain and the world

And the night was caught in lips that caught each other.

And the warmth of my wrists that carried a spark

Through the roots and the firs towards the house with the key

That we knew the secret hiding place of.

The counter was cool and the bannister felt like satin- like skin- like supple fingers trailing down my stomach

In the cool dark cavern that was A Place To Ourselves

In the deep high fever of my wanting for him

His wanting for me

Wanting each other.

Two lovers converged like hail falling on hail, each drop pop jump was a coupling- an embrace in the hallway on our way to the bed-

and the end of the night

under pillows of liquor.

And the swatch of vanilla fire fizzling thickly on my thumbs my tongue and my swaying feet

And the quiet fast happiness of a Beatles song

And a sloppy fast slowdance

And kisses.

Rush gave way to rush

Breath gave way to touch

And I stroked his back like I needed to

Like I cared that much.

And he felt it.

In the cabin in the storm in the night in the jagged sickness

He felt it.

And that made all the difference.