He watched my chest blooming red filigree while I watched his smirk knowing he saw what happened beneath my skin. That electric purr running along my veins, racing the arteries to get to my heart, the organ he quickened. I knew from that smirk spreading across his face that all of it underneath the soil was cropping up, growing. He had buried it deep inside him where he thought I couldn't see. But here's the problem with someone who knows about blooms across skin and smirks across faces that hide things in marrow and bones: I know what's buried deep beneath, there is no hiding from a hider. He said he was scared, he hid his face in the pillows and told me I scared him. My favorite complement, next to "you're a challenge." I felt my eyes brighten. I knew I had him from that first kiss and I knew every time he plunged a little deeper under my water from all those looks. His eyes sometimes flickered like sunlight across a sea while he looked at me across a table or from the corner of his eye. His laughter had become a wild horse set free to roam across the moment and all my stupid silly doings.

"Should I not have told you?" I asked his lips while they pressed into mine, easier to say while our eyes are shut.
"No, yes." He stuttered, eyes still closed to keep me out, keep it all buried deep, but I already knew. "I love you too"
"I know."

Maybe I am cocky. At least I'm always spot on. Or have been so far.

bleeding hearts

Stolen breath like when I was seven and running on the playground in winter. My asthma was bad then. The moment has continued on now for two hours and shows no sign of ending. "no news is good news." hah. Tell that to the families of 49 people who didn't get news. Tell that to the boy in bed with me, who had to call the airline because we got no news. His heart ripped from his chest because we trust that everyone will be safe most of the time and really have no use for worry. We're the ones other people worry about. We're the trouble makers. That split second that stretched into the better half of a week. A week that felt like another world, new jersey really is that far from everything else. And how my hands went numb and my head hurt because it was too much work to keep everything still. That was the instant I realized I need to worry too. And now I worry too much.

And here I am worrying and wondering and hoping and really not hoping at all because hopes up means dashed hopes and I never get my hopes up so instead my mind goes to the worst possible outcome which means I'm crazy and all I want to say is I love you and I didn't get to. Death is the scariest for those left behind. It would be awful to not get your chance and die young but you're not conscious of it after you die. The ones left here are the true sufferers. Or maybe we're just selfish.

I don't know but either way there are knots in my digestive system and a headache rolling in like thunder clouds because I just found out that you're okay and I feel guilty for being such a bother.

Starbucks pinpoint

"Good Morning, venti americano, right? What are you doing up so early?"
"Morning, yeah, drove my boyfriend to work."
"Venti Pike Place, that's your boyfriend right?"
An amused giggle escapes me because I never thought this would happen, a barista knows my order. I guess the little signs in Starbucks are right. I mean, I remember what external hard drives people buy so I guess it's not that far fetched.
"Yep, that's him."
"You both must have a lot to do, with so much coffee every time."
"No, we're just a highly caffeinated couple."
Highly caffeinated some days to make our bodies go and our brains catch up and other days, highly caffeinated just for fun, to watch the aspirations and ideas and cynicisms fly around like wild limbs.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

It's so hard to figure out. We don't need to though. There are no rules, no set guidelines to how things should be. I'm pretty nervous, scared, worried, most of the time because I'm afraid I'll mess up or do something out of order or wrong. I should be applying to grad schools, studying for the GREs and taking them and I want to, I'd love to go back to school, it will just take more effort this time around and the thing too about it is that I'm good here, I'm settled, I feel like myself most of the time and I'm pretty happy I think. I don't know though. I don't know for sure. Here's one thing I really know for sure: I need to start taking a yoga class, at whatever cost, the benefits so severely outweigh the cost, it's important. I need to do that. The other thing is that I need to set aside time each day to write. No more waiting around and sitting. I know I keep saying that and talk is so easy, so cheap. It's more difficult to actually do it, to sit down and do it.

I'm scared, terrified really, of this whole big everything, all of it. I'm not even sure what it is, where I can gain some footing or grounding, it's just going and going and I don't hate it at all, I like it a lot and think it's pretty great but is it? I don't know, should I just keep on keeping on until something goes wrong? Is this it? Am i really at a point in my life where I'm concerned about being with the wrong person or being with someone and he not being the person, my person, and thus wasting time? I mean it's not even wasting time, that's dumb, it's the least waste of time, but the clock is ticking I guess. I don't know. This could be it. Maybe. There aren't any rules. I guess I have to keep reminding myself that. There is no right or wrong way to do it. There's just doing it.


I really want this:

here is the
deepest secret
nobody knows

i want it to peek out over the hem.

here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life.

I really really want a good conversation with a stranger. Maybe I'll go sit at cup o joe before work. Get some stranger time in. Do some handwriting. Read on my kindle. Maybe. Why not.

two years two years two years

two years ago you fell. right. out. of. the. sky.

and i didn't really believe it at first, i kind of hate myself when i think about what has happened. and how things happened and the way it all went. i remember him putting his black t shirt on and it didn't matter that he wore black every day because that day it was on purpose for a reason that mattered. he hid inside his bed and couldn't even cry i heard his screams, shrieks, like it was being pulled out of him, his heart, out from his throat and through his mouth. like there was nothing i could do and i knew there wasn't. i couldn't touch him. i was afraid to get too close. afraid to be the thing that made it worse.

i sat on our couch and watched cnn for hours, mesmerized by the sounds and images, it felt so false. so. unreal. sometimes i think, what if you hadn't died, would i still be with him?

would we be getting married? would we be in thailand? following his dream?

you helped me realize myself more than almost anyone else in my life and even in your death you have helped me grow and be better and realize even more about myself.

two years two years two years two years.

two years ago the sun spread its fingers against the sheets, telling us to pull them back.

two years ago, we both woke up at 1 am, stood up, looked at each other and felt strange without knowing what had happened and we got those texts from our friend. who had heard the news about a plane and asked if we had known anyone on it.

two years ago we got up in the morning and panicked, we weren't sure why until we picked up phones and tried calling and there was no answer. it was all so unsure. no one could give us an answer.

but we knew.

we knew.

the birds, brilliant and bright and beautiful, had fallen. the mourning had come.

deeplakesea

i want to look into you and say: "I'm sorry, this is who i am, i sabotage shit because i'm more afraid of commitment than you are and sometimes, no mostofthetime, i ruin really good things outoffearoftheunknown. I overreact. a lot. I exaggerate and I cry because I'm not sure how to deal with these feelings, this unknown thing, I hate the place where it's so unsure and unknown and I feel like there are things you owe me but there aren't at all, you owe me nothing, except occasionally a kiss, i'll take that, thanks. Look. i'm sorry. I am, I am really sorry. Here's the difference between dating for one month and dating for four, it's the same difference as "I won't sleep with other people" and "I don't want to sleep with other people." Are you starting to see where I'm coming from? I just wanted to know, I think I deserve to know, just to have a little heads up from you saying you were busy. That's it. I just needed an "I'll be busy later" and everything would be absolutely cool as a cucumber. I'm confused because it hurt me, and I care, and I feel stupid for caring and I don't think I should feel stupid for caring.
But I can't really say that to you right now because you don't want to talk to me, or rather I told you I didnt' want to talk to you and you are honoring that. Maybe giving me time to cool off. Why are you so level headed? Why are you so accepting? Maybe this time will be the time you aren't. Maybe I have ruined it. I think I've been trying to ruin it for a while now and you haven't let me. I think I have a problem with letting people get in, close to me, closer at least.

My heart hurts like it's been stretched apart and pulled until it can't take it, like taffy although unlike taffy my heart cannot pull forever with strain and no breakage. i am not elastic or flexible like that. it hurts. and it pulls. and i don't want to care, i never wanted to care this much, but here i am caring, and it feels stupid, i feel stupid, and i don't think i should feel stupid for caring at all.

crying would feel better. maybe.

is it me

I don't even know why I care, I mean, I guess I care because I feel like I care about him. I shouldn't be in this position again, hurt and crying over someone else. How do I get here, always? It must be me, since I am the least common denominator or is it greatest common factor? Either way, I'm it. I do over react. I do get crazy. But don't get my hopes up, don't make me think that I can put hopes in you, can trust in you, and then completely blow that. Don't act like I'm something more to you and then act like I'm just someone passing through your life. I am not bullshit. I am the least bullshit ever. Take me seriously. I deserve to be let in, I have earned the right to be let in.

My patience is wearing thin and I think it might be time to move on and away. I don't know what to do. My heart doesn't deserve this recklessness.