i was only for your very space

how can you miss someone you don't know
the feeling of loss but something that was never had
grasping at smoke, take it in
the light drifted through the window
warmed his skin
taught me how to look but not touch
with a glow
and a shut door
our stories fill the room
till we can no longer breathe
or stand each other
till it's gone
please leave.

honey, you cannot wrestle a dove

elbows to knees
the dead branches of the humming bird birch
receding descending falling into sleep
a sinking stone and one fast wing
elbows to knees, we try again
in an attempt to focus on the night sky
my hand fell into yours
and there was a landslide
with such close investigation we are bound to find nothing
the turning in my stomach
the limp hand on my pillow
and gushes of air passing through your lips
what am i to make of this?
some truth in friendship, some understanding
buried beneath but i cannot make out
a single word of your eyes
I let him sleep, I'll let him rest
the untouched, the unknown, the unavailable
scheme of things that permeates
my interaction
hands will fumble and words fall into each other
the scout i sent out has come back empty handed
and i am disappointed
but the train will keep passing
and cups of water will be filled
and this hangover will end
but soon another will follow.
sometimes the black is blue.

Ramblings of May 3rd (evasion of exam-thinking)

I gave myself a blackeye today. I am not a very self destructive person, full of knots and loose ends and other metaphors of a broken person. Cliche as it is, this is an attempt to create something real that is original and similar to all other stories or narcissistic rants about the tests of life. In some witty presentation I will spew all of my pent up complaints and angst that will be so relatable to you that it will cause a worldwide hype about this book. This is a story that will top all other book sales.

Or this will fade away under stacks of used notebooks, half finished and ashamed, left to rot in damp clothing that was spoiled by that one summer day when I forgot to hang up my swimsuit and carelessly tossed it on the floor half naked struggling to get those jeans over my sticky legs (it's the most frustrating thing when your legs are still wet and you try to put your pants on, you always seem to be in a rush too. It's like when you go into the ocean to clean the sand off your feet and tragically get them coated with sand as you walk back to the car with your flip flops dangling by two fingers with the sunset out of focus in the background and fades to black.