getting back to the writing slowly

It was just a taste of what was to come. I found myself wanting to watch movies that matter, documentaries and things about the world. Things that I don’t think about because I’m caught up in this semi-bilingual love affair. I can only tell him I love him in Spanish and many of his sweet nothings come in the same language... he went out of town this weekend, our second to last weekend and I wonder if ill feel the same way I did his first night away when he begins his trek to the other side of our American universe in the coming weeks. I felt like I should lie in the middle of the floor so the devil could get a better shot with those darts he was throwing at my heart. I was watching Cold Case Files and crying, it was pathetic but still a taste of what was to come. One week away and my mom has promised a day at the spa once he leaves. In the mean time I have to find a place to live which has proven much more difficult then I had thought. I’m also looking to graduate early, enough is enough and I’m ready to go exploring what they call real life. Well at least I think I’m ready.

in hiding

These are the moments that matter most while I am trying not to let them matter at all. Our time is fleeting the months turning to weeks, the weeks to days filled with precious moments of perfect-ness that I am trying to not let matter. He couldn’t tell me but I heard the final date as he made plans with a drunken friend over the phone. One month, one month from tomorrow and he will move and it will all be over. And thus we have begun the beginning of the end. I couldn’t sleep last night and tried to distract my tearing chest and tearing eyes with meaningless TV. It hardly worked as he slept lightly next to me. I wanted to crawl into him and hide there so the end couldn’t come, so I wouldn’t have to think about it. We never got to say I love you, even though I dreamt of it, but now its too late, outside of dreams it would be stupid to start that now just to end it within weeks. And so we continue to disguise our love with like, with lust, as to not become more attached then we already are, which would be hard to do as we spend every possible moment together. Part of me says to run away now, prepare myself for the loss by beginning it now but even as I write this there is a welling in my eyes, in my heart that keeps me going back for more maddening disguised love. Maybe when all this is over I can get back to the writing.

surrounded by stories, surreal and sublime

I’ve gotten to this place where I feel most alone in small groups and lying in bed with him, paining for him to wake up, staring at him, questioning my place in the world. There is a giant vat of emptiness in my chest, a cylinder of translucent nothingness that can momentarily be filled by kisses or whipped topping but so easily is completely empty, resounding with echoes. The curliness of my handwriting seems to change daily similarly to the ideas of my future. It’s too much to question future at this time in my mind and yet it’s the only question I am asked daily. So I’ll put on some pink sparkly eye shadow and hide behind Minnie Mouse sized eyelashes so no one but strangers can see how deep it has all become. I wanted my hair to look like that of a pixie and yet my thighs would never fit beneath her delicately jagged skirt. Maybe I am living in renaissance fairly tales for the only thing that makes sense is running away to Paris. To hide among pastries and stripes, to sit under the Eiffel tower in the hot summer sun waiting on brief rain clouds. I want to wake up in satin hotel sheets, in all my loneliness, only to glide out onto a terrace to be surrounded by words I may never know the meaning of. Instead I make him tell me bedtime stories.

my jungle

I heard a heartbeat and pressed my hand to the wall to feel the music. I closed my eyes to imagine a hot jungle beyond my palm. Panthers slinking among miniskirts and shirtless young men. Vines and serpents hanging in an iridescent smoke, all things swaying to that same heavy beat. Just as I caught the eyes of the Panther I awoke in a blanketed sweat only to find the heartbeat was my own ringing in my ears, however the shirtless boy was there next to me his staring eye wide in the early morning. I smiled and kissed his bicep that was my pillow and turned to continue my dreams. Before I found myself in the jungle I began to ponder why he was awake staring at me and checked to make sure he really was awake. It was true his prehistoric eyes were open but still full of sleep. I stared into them imagining if it was possible that he was dreaming my same dreams. I began to dose off but fought so I could watch his own sleep process in the bright light of dawn. I soon found his eyes to be closed and I once again felt the safety of his arms and returned to my jungle trip.

alone with my thoughts for a slow week

I want to see your face, that’s all I’m longing for, your face; I look at the little pictures and your face. I imagine your hands holding various items, forks, baseballs, my hand, and edges of blankets. I remember your touch and how its changed and softened in the recent months as if your gentleness is reflecting my own heart’s softening. You remind of that song “your hands are in my hair and my heart is in your teeth and it makes my want to make you near me always, near me always” and yet I am reminded by everyone around me, around us daily of how it will end, how it will end so soon, too soon. And the inkling has begun, the slow inkling like a soft rain in the back of my mind, especially after this slow lonely week and the inkling has infiltrated my rational thought and here I am almost thinking sure we could do this, do this for awhile. But luckily the minuscule amount of rational I have left is holding on to the fact that I couldn’t let what we do have turn into the nastiness that long distance has been for me. Its beautiful for now and blooming so quickly as tears are heating my face I have to let go of my romantic forever notions and yet I hold on, I question if maybe you saw all of this pain, and fear and truth that lives within my words would all of our rational disappear and would we find ourselves among frequent flyer miles and free long distance plans?