I want you to know that you give me the butterflies. Know that I've never been in love- but I want to know what it's like. I want to stop being angry at all the dumbasses that fucked me over, the nights that shouldn't have happened, the stupid mistakes I knew better than to make but they felt so good that made them anyway. I'm tired of compromising my identity for a future that he won't stick around long enough to recognize.
I want you to make me yours. Take me away from here and say we'll always be together- I've always wanted a forever man but I never wanted to ask. Thought it would make me look bad if people knew I didn't want to be alone. That Ive been doing me and doing it well for so damn long that I might sacrifice between my future with myself and my future with him. But I don't even have a him.
We only go through this life once. I know that I want to be able to wake up and hear "I love you" at least once. To feel okay for taking a risk; knowing that in the end it was worth it because the fireworks that happened when we were together were so much brighter than the flames that our relationship died in. To be able to look back and see the midddle of the story, not just the end.
I want to stop feeling like I'm broken, like I fucked up, like it's my fault that I don't trust the opposite sex when I know that that trust has been abused so many times. I want to not wonder what I'm doing wrong that I dontdesrve or get the chance at love. I'm tired of making excuses for how I am. I don't want to have to do this alone any more. I want to have a valentine and not feel guilty for that person helping me through rough patches. I wish someone would understand how my mind works and be willing to sacrifice for me.
I wish I didn't feel guilty for writing all this.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Wanting part 1
I want to be done with this. Physics is driving me crazy. I want to work in a tropical rainforest where the birds and the frogs are so loud that I can't sleep properly for the first two weeks. I want to get back to knowing exactly who I am and what I want and where I'm going. I'm tired of feeling lost and confused and frustrated and having to do stupid things that don't apply to me. I'm tires of being treated like another student who's going to med school because I'm not. I'm going to make a bigger difference. I'm used to being supported but I also know how to face those who are armed with "you can't"s. Because I can and I fucking will. You can try to stop me but I've come too far to turn around and be deterred. I just wish I didnt have to slog through all the bullshit of required nonsense when really I know exactly here I want to end up- and it doesn't have to do with a category three GE. let me follow my passion- is it really so hard to believe that ive known what I want to do since I was twelve? Because I do know. I have known. Stop trying to mold me into all the cookie cutter filler students who just want to go to med school so they can please mommy and daddy and live in a house with a white picket fence with a white husband and white kids and white walls that feel more like bars. I want to escape from this apathetic crowd that I'm drowning in. Someone help me please- tell me I'm not the only one who cares.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Writer's block
they said
"You're the worst thing to happen to my writing."
I didn't understand what they spoke of, until
I put my pen to paper only to trace your name
to see how your last and my first look like the best poetry i could write.
because it rings in my ears like it should have when I was still in middle school.
all that comes out is a stream of consciousness
and I'm in a broken boat without a paddle
floating past lover's metaphors and eloquent verbal melodies
I just wave at the banks of syntax
as i flow past anything decent to perform.
"You're the worst thing to happen to my writing."
I didn't understand what they spoke of, until
I put my pen to paper only to trace your name
to see how your last and my first look like the best poetry i could write.
because it rings in my ears like it should have when I was still in middle school.
all that comes out is a stream of consciousness
and I'm in a broken boat without a paddle
floating past lover's metaphors and eloquent verbal melodies
I just wave at the banks of syntax
as i flow past anything decent to perform.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Heat
they said
"You're the worst thing to happen to my writing."
I didn't understand what they spoke of, until
I put my pen to paper only to trace your name
to see how your last and my first look like the best poetry i could write.
because it rings in my ears like it should have when I was still in middle school.
all that comes out is a stream of consciousness
and I'm in a broken boat without a paddle
floating past lover's metaphors and eloquent verbal melodies
I just wave at the banks of syntax
as i flow past anything decent enough to perform
Maybe it would help if I told you that I'm new to all of this.
I have no idea what I'm doing
and I thought that when it was right, I would know
but this- feels so damn perfect.
But I should warn you- I may be more innocent than I seem.
I've yet to know how it feels to be caught up in the moment
bodies intwined, defenseless and silent
to go past the point of no return.
that being said:
I want you to make me sweat.
have my desire for you pour through my pores
so that the shimmers on my skin
look like heat waves rising off the pavement
and I'll think that you're a mirage.
I want you to know the roads of my body
not just the well traveled highways of my face and my hands
that all eyes have traveled over.
I want you to know the unlit backroads
that you can only find by taking the long way home.
but understand that some drivers don't know the meaning of the word respect
they blazed past yield warnings and through red lights
leaving skid marks on my psyche.
But I've since let the water wash away and fill the cracks in the pavement.
So
I want you to turn me into a storm
let your fingertips send lightning bolts through my chest
the thunderous response will be a purr in my throat
your name, murmured into the rain
that trickles from my shoulders to my legs, like the path of your eyes
when you put me in a bed of rumbling clouds.
I want you to make me your fireplace.
wrap me around the heat that burns so bright in the night
the one that flickers in the windows of your eyes
flames that licks the bricks with soft tendrils
leaving an ashy charcoal
the perfect tool to write with
I'll turn you into a poem.
each curve of your body etched onto the page
make your mind into a metaphor
swirl your soul with the ink of my pen
translate your love into letters
that i'm almost too scared to let leave my lips.
so these words are said with apprehension
in hope that the fingers that snap together
will turn into flint and tinder
starting sparks to ignite your fire
that keeps me so inspired
keeps me standing up here;
knowing that I have the courage
to stand naked in front of a crowd
to strip myself down in front of strangers
but I'm afraid to let you touch me
to learn the secrets of your skin
but when I'm finally brave enough
know that I won't hesitate to let you in.
"You're the worst thing to happen to my writing."
I didn't understand what they spoke of, until
I put my pen to paper only to trace your name
to see how your last and my first look like the best poetry i could write.
because it rings in my ears like it should have when I was still in middle school.
all that comes out is a stream of consciousness
and I'm in a broken boat without a paddle
floating past lover's metaphors and eloquent verbal melodies
I just wave at the banks of syntax
as i flow past anything decent enough to perform
Maybe it would help if I told you that I'm new to all of this.
I have no idea what I'm doing
and I thought that when it was right, I would know
but this- feels so damn perfect.
But I should warn you- I may be more innocent than I seem.
I've yet to know how it feels to be caught up in the moment
bodies intwined, defenseless and silent
to go past the point of no return.
that being said:
I want you to make me sweat.
have my desire for you pour through my pores
so that the shimmers on my skin
look like heat waves rising off the pavement
and I'll think that you're a mirage.
I want you to know the roads of my body
not just the well traveled highways of my face and my hands
that all eyes have traveled over.
I want you to know the unlit backroads
that you can only find by taking the long way home.
but understand that some drivers don't know the meaning of the word respect
they blazed past yield warnings and through red lights
leaving skid marks on my psyche.
But I've since let the water wash away and fill the cracks in the pavement.
So
I want you to turn me into a storm
let your fingertips send lightning bolts through my chest
the thunderous response will be a purr in my throat
your name, murmured into the rain
that trickles from my shoulders to my legs, like the path of your eyes
when you put me in a bed of rumbling clouds.
I want you to make me your fireplace.
wrap me around the heat that burns so bright in the night
the one that flickers in the windows of your eyes
flames that licks the bricks with soft tendrils
leaving an ashy charcoal
the perfect tool to write with
I'll turn you into a poem.
each curve of your body etched onto the page
make your mind into a metaphor
swirl your soul with the ink of my pen
translate your love into letters
that i'm almost too scared to let leave my lips.
so these words are said with apprehension
in hope that the fingers that snap together
will turn into flint and tinder
starting sparks to ignite your fire
that keeps me so inspired
keeps me standing up here;
knowing that I have the courage
to stand naked in front of a crowd
to strip myself down in front of strangers
but I'm afraid to let you touch me
to learn the secrets of your skin
but when I'm finally brave enough
know that I won't hesitate to let you in.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Doctor's Note
I think I need a doctor.
Because my brain won't tell my lips what to say
whenever you look at me that way.
All my witty comments are lost
with my quick comebacks
missing somewhere in the fields of "what ifs" and "could be's"
So I think I need a doctor
because I've contracted laryngitis
I'm speechless around you.
Words just won't do
to explain the knot that ties up my tongue
like a five year old's messy shoelaces
when your hand touches my shoulder
It tingles like there are miniature lightning bolts in each of your finger tips
I would say that I can feel the static electricity between us
but our energy is dynamic
it changes with each time you lock eyes on mine
how your smiles make me rhyme
So I think I need a doctor
because something is wrong with my balance
I can't put one foot in front of the other
without thinking
that I'm falling for you.
And I'm not very good at communicating that
so I let my actions speak louder than words
but apparently, you're not listening
so maybe some flashing neon signs will make this more obvious
bright lights that spell out
I like you.
those three little words that get caught in my throat
whenever you bite your lip in the middle of a thought
Because I want to be the girl that holds your hand in public
so all your friends will whisper "oh, that's her?" when I walk in a room
the girl that you stay up all night with
just to talk.
But talking gets old, I want to be your complement
I want to be the up when you're down
the blue to your orange
the lock to your key
the answer to your question
So say yes, you'll be mine
and when February comes around
you'll be my valentine
that you'll stay by my side and I'll stay in your mind
because I don't want to have to go
to the doctor's
and ask them to fix
a broken heart.
Because my brain won't tell my lips what to say
whenever you look at me that way.
All my witty comments are lost
with my quick comebacks
missing somewhere in the fields of "what ifs" and "could be's"
So I think I need a doctor
because I've contracted laryngitis
I'm speechless around you.
Words just won't do
to explain the knot that ties up my tongue
like a five year old's messy shoelaces
when your hand touches my shoulder
It tingles like there are miniature lightning bolts in each of your finger tips
I would say that I can feel the static electricity between us
but our energy is dynamic
it changes with each time you lock eyes on mine
how your smiles make me rhyme
So I think I need a doctor
because something is wrong with my balance
I can't put one foot in front of the other
without thinking
that I'm falling for you.
And I'm not very good at communicating that
so I let my actions speak louder than words
but apparently, you're not listening
so maybe some flashing neon signs will make this more obvious
bright lights that spell out
I like you.
those three little words that get caught in my throat
whenever you bite your lip in the middle of a thought
Because I want to be the girl that holds your hand in public
so all your friends will whisper "oh, that's her?" when I walk in a room
the girl that you stay up all night with
just to talk.
But talking gets old, I want to be your complement
I want to be the up when you're down
the blue to your orange
the lock to your key
the answer to your question
So say yes, you'll be mine
and when February comes around
you'll be my valentine
that you'll stay by my side and I'll stay in your mind
because I don't want to have to go
to the doctor's
and ask them to fix
a broken heart.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Enough.
You would think that after two and a half years, this would be easier.
You would think that after everything we've been through, everything we've put each other through, I would know better.
You would think that given recent events, I wouldn't be so stupid to trust you again.
but you don't really think about me, do you?
After two years of emotional ping pong, we both got hit back and forth across the table enough times to quit, but we didn't- and have the bruises to prove it.
we were stuck on a relationship rollercoaster, terrified of the drops but loving the ride anyway.
Finally figuring out that calling you my best friend was enough. That neither of us really wanted anything more, that loving each other without being together wasn't as painful as we thought it would be.
But now, I don't even think I know you anymore.
You've been poisoned
with the belief
that you're better than everyone else
simply because you can hide your cowardly face behind greek letters and a newly found social life
you lost yourself and everything you stood for.
you became what you never wanted to be.
I remember you telling me how you hated your older brother
because he didn't care about anything you did; he disregarded your actions and all you stood for
he let the devil on his tongue do all the talking.
but I guess being an asshole is genetic because you've got that gene too
don't act like you care what i've been up to
we both know that we're too old to play pretend anymore.
Don't act like you don't understand why I'm upset,
your attitude makes me sick.
physically makes me uncomfortable, like I need to purge something from my body
and I wish I could vomit memories
but you're stuck in my mind
afternoons spent together are branded in my brain
unwanted recollections of a person that I was stupid enough to trust over and over.
I told you that you were my kryptonite, my one weakness
I thought you would respect that
I thought you would respect me.
but obviously, I've been wrong before
I thought that we could be friends
but you're just too fucking cool for that.
So I'm sorry that I'm not your bro
that I don't sleep with the bitches
that I don't act like I'm the shit when I'm an insecure little pansy
and I just want to protect my ego
except wait-
I'm not sorry at all.
You would think that after everything we've been through, everything we've put each other through, I would know better.
You would think that given recent events, I wouldn't be so stupid to trust you again.
but you don't really think about me, do you?
After two years of emotional ping pong, we both got hit back and forth across the table enough times to quit, but we didn't- and have the bruises to prove it.
we were stuck on a relationship rollercoaster, terrified of the drops but loving the ride anyway.
Finally figuring out that calling you my best friend was enough. That neither of us really wanted anything more, that loving each other without being together wasn't as painful as we thought it would be.
But now, I don't even think I know you anymore.
You've been poisoned
with the belief
that you're better than everyone else
simply because you can hide your cowardly face behind greek letters and a newly found social life
you lost yourself and everything you stood for.
you became what you never wanted to be.
I remember you telling me how you hated your older brother
because he didn't care about anything you did; he disregarded your actions and all you stood for
he let the devil on his tongue do all the talking.
but I guess being an asshole is genetic because you've got that gene too
don't act like you care what i've been up to
we both know that we're too old to play pretend anymore.
Don't act like you don't understand why I'm upset,
your attitude makes me sick.
physically makes me uncomfortable, like I need to purge something from my body
and I wish I could vomit memories
but you're stuck in my mind
afternoons spent together are branded in my brain
unwanted recollections of a person that I was stupid enough to trust over and over.
I told you that you were my kryptonite, my one weakness
I thought you would respect that
I thought you would respect me.
but obviously, I've been wrong before
I thought that we could be friends
but you're just too fucking cool for that.
So I'm sorry that I'm not your bro
that I don't sleep with the bitches
that I don't act like I'm the shit when I'm an insecure little pansy
and I just want to protect my ego
except wait-
I'm not sorry at all.
fear is a four letter word
You want to know why I'm scared.
I can't tell you.
but I have three reasons to be.
and maybe they'll help you understand.
One.
The first. my first. first real boyfriend, first time being a couple, first time staying up late because for the first time, reliving memories was better than dreaming.
He was my best friend turned lover. A sweet 16 relationship- because I was 16 and he was sweet.
Sweet in the way he said my name, how he would reach for my hand, how his lips tasted when they met mine the first time, how his breath felt on my temple when he first whispered
"I love you."
First one to break my heart. First one to lie to me.
First one to tell me that he didn't love me anymore.
No warning signs, no reasons, no explanation.
He was the first to deceive me and leave me.
Two.
He was comfort. I fell in love with his skin- all of it. How it smelled soft. I would lay next to him for hours, wishing that my fingers could remember every smooth inch of skin that exuded heat and desire. Tracing his outline into my bedsheets night after night. learning him, learning his touch, learning how to feel my own sparks of pleasure.
Wanting to give myself to him, to let himself in to the heat at the base of my being, letting him become the key to my locked secrets
but knowing that I couldn't. and trusting that he wouldn't ask.
But, he did. Knowing full well that he didn't love me, he became a person I never thought he would be.
and so trust was broken by his desire, his lust.
Three.
He was the tarzan to my jane. The jungle man of a foreign country to my city-raised but nature loving self. He was the unexpected, the improbable, the unknown. The potential for the rest of my life.
The one that I wanted the most, even though we were separated by an ocean
I was willing to cross every kind of treacherous terrain to get back to his arms.
and he walked the same electrified tightrope I was already on, with no safety nets to accompany our balancing act. trying to get to him.
teetering between sanity and taking a chance on someone who sent lightning bolts up my spine whenever he even said my name.
I was never so sure of anything until I knew we would be together. knew that he was the closest thing I would ever find to a soul mate.
Until he walked away. decided he didn't have the poise to stay balanced with me.
decided that I wasn't worth the effort.
and that another girl would be an acceptable replacement.
three reasons why I'm terrified of love.
irony is, I've never actually been in love.
I'm beginning to think that I'm just good at being deceived.
So my guards are up, my trust is broken,
and my potential with you makes me want to run away
because I've learned
that if you say you love me
you might take it back
if you say you can wait
you might change your mind
and if I think you're my soul mate
you might find someone else.
I don't expect you to fix me or help me through this
but maybe this will help you understand
that I don't want you to become a fourth reason
for my irrational fear
of four letters
I can't tell you.
but I have three reasons to be.
and maybe they'll help you understand.
One.
The first. my first. first real boyfriend, first time being a couple, first time staying up late because for the first time, reliving memories was better than dreaming.
He was my best friend turned lover. A sweet 16 relationship- because I was 16 and he was sweet.
Sweet in the way he said my name, how he would reach for my hand, how his lips tasted when they met mine the first time, how his breath felt on my temple when he first whispered
"I love you."
First one to break my heart. First one to lie to me.
First one to tell me that he didn't love me anymore.
No warning signs, no reasons, no explanation.
He was the first to deceive me and leave me.
Two.
He was comfort. I fell in love with his skin- all of it. How it smelled soft. I would lay next to him for hours, wishing that my fingers could remember every smooth inch of skin that exuded heat and desire. Tracing his outline into my bedsheets night after night. learning him, learning his touch, learning how to feel my own sparks of pleasure.
Wanting to give myself to him, to let himself in to the heat at the base of my being, letting him become the key to my locked secrets
but knowing that I couldn't. and trusting that he wouldn't ask.
But, he did. Knowing full well that he didn't love me, he became a person I never thought he would be.
and so trust was broken by his desire, his lust.
Three.
He was the tarzan to my jane. The jungle man of a foreign country to my city-raised but nature loving self. He was the unexpected, the improbable, the unknown. The potential for the rest of my life.
The one that I wanted the most, even though we were separated by an ocean
I was willing to cross every kind of treacherous terrain to get back to his arms.
and he walked the same electrified tightrope I was already on, with no safety nets to accompany our balancing act. trying to get to him.
teetering between sanity and taking a chance on someone who sent lightning bolts up my spine whenever he even said my name.
I was never so sure of anything until I knew we would be together. knew that he was the closest thing I would ever find to a soul mate.
Until he walked away. decided he didn't have the poise to stay balanced with me.
decided that I wasn't worth the effort.
and that another girl would be an acceptable replacement.
three reasons why I'm terrified of love.
irony is, I've never actually been in love.
I'm beginning to think that I'm just good at being deceived.
So my guards are up, my trust is broken,
and my potential with you makes me want to run away
because I've learned
that if you say you love me
you might take it back
if you say you can wait
you might change your mind
and if I think you're my soul mate
you might find someone else.
I don't expect you to fix me or help me through this
but maybe this will help you understand
that I don't want you to become a fourth reason
for my irrational fear
of four letters
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