he still thinks
i like him less than I really do—
and I’ve been using it to my advantage.
plans.
he still thinks
some things will always feel the same.
and I'm the passage of time
in a tiny room
not so far away
from him.
now,
when the sun lights up the tips of his hair
as it stares down on us all from large windows-
spanning larger than anyone in the room,
i can smell my broken heart like the back of his head under my chin.
he still thinks
I like him less than I really do,
it’s easier than
me
still tasting his earlobes on my tongue
in the cold plastic pen cap
between my lips.
catholic school
today I woke up feeling like a dirty whore.
no, really.
I did.
feeling like a dirty whore is not actually that blatant.
it’s subtle. a granule of sand just underneath the sock, it rubs skin till it’s a little calloused (slightly raw)—
mainly felt.
I’ve shaken myself out, changed, showered and still it remains.
dirty whore.
reminds me of the time I thought was pregnant.
(after a 7 month lapse in sexual activity).
it's not coincidental.
I once knew a girl
In the years of my youth
With eyes like the summer
All beauty and truth
In the morning I fled
Left a note and it read
Someday you will be loved.
I cannot pretend that I felt any regret
Cause each broken heart will eventually mend
As the blood runs red down the needle and thread
Someday you will be loved
You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved
You may feel alone when you're falling asleep
And everytime tears roll down your cheeks
But I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet
Someday you will be loved
You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved
You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved
Someday you will be loved that i heard this before it was released.
i found a reason.
or i might have.
i found myself listening to a mix with this track for the title. it's mixed a slow ride from then to now, and back a few times. i didn’t think about it, as much as i felt it out. one track leads to the next and sometimes it doesn’t really, but you’ll find yourself there anyhow.
and now i couldn’t think about it if i tried.
i can just feel the progression.
and think,
maybe.
between aisles 10 and 24.
I ran out of dental floss today. And as I slipped the last strip through my molars and into the trash can, I realized that this might be the first time in my life I’ll have to buy more. Now, I do actually floss frequently (at least every other day, almost). I use glide. I like the thin- stringed mint variety, but really I’m not too picky. It’s a damn string that you rub between your teeth to get old, stuck, food out- I mean really. Boxes of dental floss have been showing up at our house for years, even though it’s been years since my dad has lived there. It must be the perk of keeping his last name.
Yesterday I was grocery shopping for things not dental floss, like: pork chops, cornflakes, and hummus. I called my mom, the non-expert authority on matters of food preparation and consumption, to ask her about pork chops. Her advice was solid, but I was still too apprehensive to make the purchase. I get like that about meat. I like to stick with chicken. It’s always a fair cook.
I continued to the cereal aisle as mom continued to pork chop talk. I was staring at the cornflakes when I asked mom if she’d heard from dad, and mentioned that he’d forgotten my birthday.
she says,
“ you know, [insert my name here], your father is very sick. he’s going to die. you’re too old to expect him to call you on your birthday.
you should be calling him. he’s lucky if he makes it any longer. at any moment, he could be gone. and once he’s gone, [my name], he’s gone. you’ll
never hear his voice again. so anyway, if you’re going to get pork chops, I would pay extra for the leanest meat. It’s always worth it.”
I felt like I had just dumped a whole box of cranberry almond cornflakes on my head, and I was standing in the middle of an embarrassing, inexplicable mess. A Whole Foods apron approached with disdain, knowing somehow that I had done something inappropriate somewhere between aisles 10 and 24.
Although neither of us was sure of exactly what.
burb, burb, burb, the burb's the word
living in the suburbs is like drinking a glass of water on a Monday morning. It’s clean, clear, refreshing, but really no substitute for a grande nonfat latte.
visiting the suburbs however, is like skipping school altogether on a Monday morning. It feels completely wrong, and yet everything around you is so easy it urges you to continue. It reminds me of a few things I almost forgot about:
1. the feeling of concrete beneath bare feet
2. parking in the driveway
3. mini golf
I think that was it.
huh.
