day 166

just more I Miss You's
***

Since you've left home
I've kept one side of my bed cluttered
last night with clothes
tonight with art work
with assignments
syllabuses
supplies

Maybe I will trick myself into thinking I have more work to do if I wake up in the middle of the night. I am already missing your being. I have learned the way we curve together, and fit, and love. I miss being in your arms. I miss feeling your breath on the back of my neck.

Tonight is just another long night. I've distracted myself with assignments, kept myself busy. There is nothing left to do but to clean up. I wish you were home.
It gets harder to sleep.

day 165

I've taught myself to never fall in love with other poets.*

There are too many writers I want to swim with. I've learned the meaning of ocean through words and voice. The waves I jump with have become familiar with goodbye.
Poets only want to write about love, about falling in love, falling out of love, hard love, sweet love, the moon, the sky, the galaxies, and earthquakes. I have trained my heart to not become a supporting actor in a non fiction novel. There are days I used to yearn the attention of love songs and sad poems. I've grown up and away from this. There are other ways to be loved, I've learned. I do not need a song. I do not need words. I do not need the ouus and the awws from strangers in an audience. I do not feed the urge to be the air exhaled into a microphone.

I love like this however. I love like bad poetry and unrehearsed choruses. I love like forgetting your lines on stage. Like not looking an audience in the eye because I cannot give my heart to strangers anymore. I refuse to scare off hopeless romantics. Love is harsh and honest, but worth it.

I want to write the best love poem. Someday I will wake up after doing somersaults inside of rib cages.

day 164

I will learn to love you with patience. In time I will learn to forget muscle memory. I will soon forget how to fit into the curves of a past lover. I think of old skin and I tremble. I wash bed sheets with new mornings to try to get rid of the evidence. I will learn to accept the way my body has warmed up to the touch of a new stranger. I am ready to face shy sunshines and nervous hands. I am ready to walk away, to forget persistence, to always remember worth. I miss you dearly and I miss you often. I wake up before the sun does and I wait for it to come home. It's the only way I know we are connected, through warmth and light. The sun doesn't rise at the same time everyday. I am learning patience. I will learn to love you with patience.

day 163

Stop.

day 162

The knives we swallow to scratch up our insides never leave us. We are programmed to love one way, breathe another, fit the void in other hands, fix the cracks in rib cages, sew together stomachs, send butterflies to museums, grow affixed to being alone.
We are programmed to sleep snugly. We write naked and read clothed, closed off, trying to get close to other lovers. We are afraid of being held and having stitches heal overnight. Fearing that we wake up with the chance of the knives in our bodies breaking free.
We are programmed to hide our shames and nakedness to new lovers. I am afraid to fall in love again, I am afraid of showing the skin underneath my rib cage, I am afraid to cut open another lover. Make a fresh wound. Afraid to show him that blood makes me weak. I am afraid of war and growing accustomed to being cut open and wounded.

We are programmed to hide our weaknesses. To grow strong and tall. To love by learning how to hide the knives we were programmed to swallow.

day 161

You have become home
800 miles away
I miss you always

I carry your ghost
You are worth every mile
I am learning to become stronger
Training my body to withstand more pain
to hold a lot more
I fill the void around my fingers with your spirit
It is still winter here
and there
Spring is coming soon
I've learned that I can wait for it

In time

day 160

I feel overwhelmed
often and hard

Spending a Friday night at a mall filled with couples is torture
I blame my emotions on bitterness
and feeling lonely

I miss the way his hands grip mine
That is what I wish for the most
He has made me believe in 11:11
and fairy tales
and happy endings
and long distance relationships

He has taught me patience
and unconditional love
That a laugh means more than tears
and being hunched over after laughing is one of the best feelings to have

Sometimes I still want to cry
I miss him often and I miss him hard
I am overwhelmed by how many "I Wish You Were Heres"
and the "don't worry he'll be backs"
I wake up wishing for him touching my skin
He is becoming muscle memory
I am learning to love him every day
Love overwhelms me
He is worth every emotion

day 159

everything went from jealous, blue, and heavy
to loving, exciting,
blessed.

when you find out that your new boyfriend
who is at least 797 miles away
finds the time to read your poetry
you find it hard not to write about him

day 158

learning the struggle:

we close at 10

there is a full house until 10:30

I only want to speak to my love

There are people who get in the way without knowing

How small and little complete strangers can make you feel
is a phenomenon

I just miss you

day 157

emotionally draining day

1. running on five hours of sleep
It's hard to sleep when you don't really know
how your lover feels
or when you will speak to him next
or even see him next
2. we live in a world where
FaceTiming is a socially acceptable mode
of communication

"I won't be able to use my phone for
the whole 29 days."
we say goodbye again
my tears inevitably fall
reminds me of us,

we are
Autumn.
3.
it's tough crying in front of others
who don't understand.
I thought about it often.
It makes me angry.
4. I have not made enough progress
to look anyone in the eye.
My professor is someone I've grown fond of
but he is not the person I'd like to break down
in front of.
Class was unbearable.
5. My past lover comes by to pick up his guitar.
I feel bad.
My heart is singing songs for another warrior now.
I can't help the way I feel.
I am proud of myself.
6.
I spend the rest of the day in bed.
Constantly searching online articles
and advice columns
"Marine girlfriends" "Military combat training"
I miss him more
I don't feel so alone anymore.
7. Still moping in bed and I get a text.
I keep my cell phone fully charged, on full volume,
and in an arms reach.
He texts me

"Hi darlin! I have my phone!!!"

I await more texts

"I'll call you tonight"
8. I spend an hour on the phone with
him and his poor reception.
He tells me he is assigned guard duty.
"I won't be out of here until April."
a month longer that we expected.

I tell him about my "research"
He tells me it makes him smile

My heart is warm.
It is a luxury to actually speak to him.
I am thankful for this man.

I am so thankful.

day 155

In 29 days,
I'd like to know where my heart is and
how many friends it has made.
I'd like to know if the man I'm seeing now will still have the same effect on me as he does today.
I'd like to know if the person I love is still in love with me.
I'd like to stop myself from all this muscle memory,
hopefully unteach my body of his voice
and his touch.
I want to be ok. Even better.

day 156

"I cry like a ghost"
Pt. 1

He said

You can break hearts when you cry.
Do you know that?

You're the saddest cryer.

Everytime you do, I know how horrible it is.
It makes me so sad,

day 154

Open letter to my ex boyfriend on giving advice to a new lover

Please don't.

You've managed to forget how to love me months ago. I've been holding on for dear life and a million excuses.
You cannot teach someone to love me if you don't even know how.

day 153

Closure pt 1
(will I regret this?)

you told me to erase you
Disconnect you from my life
Told me to stop apologizing

wish I had stopped pretending for so long

Your mother told me that the human heart can only take so much
She told me that one day I'd realize what kind of guy I want
that she was afraid of me breaking your heart
I wish I wasn't breaking my own heart for so long

day 152

"how to break up with your boyfriend on Valentines day"

1
when crying
your anxiety causes your body to tense up
this will lead to the urge to vomit
don't throw up
there is no need to.

the butterflies no longer reside in your stomach

2
the second Halloween we spent together

we didn't.

the only thing that scared me that day
was waking up to your ghost
you have been pale faced and transparent
and I no longer know what your heart looks like
ever since

I got drunk at a party
and ended up tongue kissing with a porcelain god.

you walked me home.
it wasn't your arms.

3
one time we made love in the backseat of my car
a police officer caught us
he giggled.
he thought we were so in love.

the last time I was in the backseat of my car
I was picking up the pieces you left
all the trash, dirt,and grime
all your sweat and
bike tracks

I threw away your favorite pair of shoes
don't go looking for them
your footprints are always in circles around the wrong priorities
I giggled, too
I wonder if that police officer knew I would fall out of love

4
the day my mother forbid me to see you
you wrote persistence on your forehead
and tied a balloon filled with ego onto your finger

I snuck around and still kissed you on the nose from time to time
she knew about this
she knew that you were just a phase during my wild youth

5
The flowers you gave me 4 months ago are dead,
the balloon around your finger lost the will to fly,
and I smudged the daydreamer painted on my forehead in my sleep
I made up my mind
you've just become a distant memory

Sometimes I still dream of you
I heard that you can't die in your dreams
it's true
I am not the love we left to wilt

6
Quite often
my dreams of us become nightmares
I cannot bring myself to touch your skin anymore

I am paralyzed by the sight of you

I see your ghost triumphing around.
it's being carried by the butterflies I left you

In my dreams
I pick the wings off the butterflies one by one
and hear their soft shrieks of relief
They cry because they've been attached for too long
They've grown uncomfortable in their own skin

I touch my stomach where you used to kiss me
it has a mouth without teeth.
The vomit
from letting go of the butterflies
has played a huge part in chipping away at the porcelain

day 151

When you stop helping others that can't even help themselves
and you focus on yourself
You feel the weight of a thousand sins effortlessly flying away
It is probably the best feeling I've felt my whole life
I know my worth

***
If you won't love me,
someone else will

day 150

I am slowly returning back to the seventeen year old me
Excited,
a little lost and a little found
a little bit closer to love and knowledge
and friendship
and blessings

I am beginning to learn more about love.
I am finally completely happy.

day 149

I've been looking for signs to continue loving you. This is the first time I've ever intentionally spoken to God.
I received the last sign today. If I need to find more reasons to stay, I need to leave.

day 148

note to self/ open letter to a boy in my past/ things I need to confess pt.1

You have not swayed me long enough for me to think of you when the trees mourn in autumn. We did not fall together in wholeheartedly love. We fell not too far from the tree to taste the sin on each others bodies. Your sweat and the prick of your masculinity drew too many memories I would like to erase. I would like to forget the way my body associates muscle memory with you.
The night we f*cked I swore you would not leave your lips on my skin. The poison left way too much of an impression. The action of using someone had never hit so close to home. I've never known I could become guest room. You kissed me on the forehead and wished me goodnight. The way a husband does to his wife. I remember wishing you wouldn't. The body of a man only kisses the forehead of a woman to seek more of her dreams. Learning about my worth was a nightmare to you. It is probably the only thing besides flowers that would wake you up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.
I remember the morning after. You held me and kissed me like you wanted to slip me out of my skin. I thought being a souvenir was special. But you held flesh like making a trophy.
And trophy wives just wait to be fucked.
And trophy wives just wait to be fucked up in the head.
And trophy wives move six hours away to be swayed by your visits, and words, and effort.

I often wonder if she knows about me. I've never known I could become guest room to a boy with lost hands and lips and skin. She doesn't know that I kept her side of the bed warm.. Does she? That I've become practice to your lips for the moment you two shall meet again and share poison that I've kept bitter for the both of you. You have not swayed me long enough for me to think of you when the trees mourn in autumn. But I think of you when I hear love songs and the cities in New York. I think of you when I hear one night stands and infidelity and breaking hearts. When two school kids f*ck. When the smacking of two lips are pressed firmly against a forehead, and the squeak of a bed symbolizes the practice of sex and practicing for a lover, a real lover, for the body you really want and seem to have waited for. Not mine. I hope you understand this is why I don't want to be friends anymore. I know too much. Maybe if your lips kissed my forehead in seek of learning how to love me, you would know that. Instead, your lips kissed my forehead because all the other curves on my body rejected your poison.


I hate you.

day 147

If I left home to completely follow my dreams
to listen to my own heart beat
Would I fall out of love with things I call home
or comfort
would I lose warmth
Or forget what his arms feel like
Would I forget what the sound of my mother's snoring sounds like
What a dreamer at peace is

day 146

I honestly love you
with every ounce of being I have left
You are in the soft rays of sunlight
that kisses me good morning
after a night of dreaming of being with you

day 145

dear Sara
You are still my best friend. The snow is crazy here and my street hasn't even been plowed. It plays for a great distraction and a reason to just stay in bed.
It's pretty. In an overwhelmed sense. Everything is covered in snow and nothing has been painted in sand, salt, or dirt. It's just so pure. You would love it, I am sure of it. Your nose would be really cold and red and I would just nose nibble it. :)
La la la so I finally decided on a major! Graphic design. It makes me happy and I've learned to be more confident in my work and to be proud and happy of what I create. I also like the pressure of having to go under critiques and feeling that scared sweaty nervous feeling of maybe someone having something bad to say. It hasn't happened yet, but it'll happen soon. I am learning to live in thicker skin.
My Internet has been on and off lately. Not really sure why. :( I will update you more about the snow storm, and love, and food and everything important soon. Maybe even tomorrow. I love you sister! I love you so much :)

day 144

Thursday

the moment you realize
a person may be the one
I know your palms shake
and your heart feels heavy
with adrenaline, or nervousness,
and your spine straightens

you change your priorities
you arch your toes
wherever love brings you
you follow. you go.
the excitement in love overshadows fear

day 143

Wednesday

Growing up and hating your name plays a big part in loving yourself. I have not found the pride to love who I am yet. I am certainly thinking of it and constantly wishing one day I can, but for now I'll just learn to put up with a heart of a name. Perhaps I will fall in love one day.

day 142

Tuesday

I brought you to the museum of butterflies.
They got up and danced the moment we walked in.
We must have taught them something.

day 141

A cop car chased me down a street and a left turn
He didn't even ask for my license or registration
He just told me not to be scared of the police
That I should fear the criminals


What happens when the police are the criminals?
I live in a society where I fear my protectors

day 140

(Sunday)
It's getting very difficult to post poems on the web, but I'm trying my best!

***
When my hamster died
he was four years old with a belly full of sunflower seeds
He passed on his back,
stomach facing the sky as if he wanted to bring gluttony with him to heaven

Even the smallest of creatures enjoy a little sin

****
Earlier that day
my mother left his cage in our backyard
so he could soak up the sun
She often treated him as a very tiny dog
I think he died of a heat stroke
or maybe old age

My older brother and I buried him under a napkin
tucked him in like a goodnight lullaby
in a YuGiOh tin card box

I like to think of the sunflowers in my backyard
as his way of showing gratitude

day 139

Open letter to a much older, educated, sexy, mature version of myself
preferably 4-5 years from now
This is what you should remember and smile about

basement shows, girls with short hair, being in a band, realizing that most, many, or all experimental bands suck but you love them because everyone just wanted to be a rock star, wanting to be a rock star, getting your nose pierced when you were nineteen and going a whole week without your mom finding out, dropping out of college for a semester, falling in love and out and in and out, writing poetry, falling in love and out and in and out and in with poetry

day 138

(Friday)

Today I realized that I actually broke my laptop. I spend so much time thinking that I'm responsible, but I'm really not. I am only responsible when it comes down to destroying souls and splintering blooming loves. I am the heart ache of a cold winter. I am the shape of a hurricane.