ponder

And maybe I just have too many emotions for you. I used to think I was the problem, that I could feel something so real in a place so raw and that I needed to be more numb, more numb like you who made me feel like I was in the other category because I could look at an infinity point and ponder, wonder what it would be like to be yours and feel a kind of elation. But I am too flesh and bones and when I write these words I bleed too much and you don’t know what it’s like to hold me, to hold someone so real.

ride

Because this is all some bullshit and i need you to feel this, because I’m a real person and I need to feel your hands in a place they’re not allowed. Feel me. Feel this. Feel her so I can cry and pretend like these tears are worth it because I was supposedly hurt. You are who I’m choosing to hurt me, because don’t think i’m living in some alternate reality where you’re my one and only, you’re my one and only for right now, because I’m the only one who rides and dies for me.

multifaceted

you break as easily as my nail polish chips and this isn’t something that I can easily touchup. I need to start all over. And your words are like acetone on my open cuts. You refuse to be replaced, you stain my skin and you linger but you are a mess and I need something more reliable, durable, because you aren’t around when I’m the one to break down and this can’t b one sided because I’m multifaceted and I feel more than you ever knew or cared too.

post this

Peace don’t sound like dueces but you are excused, how could you possibly know? Five bathrooms means you don’t know the discomfort of having to wait, oh! I forgot for anything, money means Upper Holland Pennsylvania  I’ve never known upper anything. Upper East side don’t mean shit, I was never invited to the over priced fake estate of these private, no trespassing school girls and no, I’m not bitter, nah. Corners were my first through twelve and the only stamps you’ve ever known are postal and I wonder when we’ll get post this, post bullshit. Don’t call me jealous, I mean why else would I spend my time writing this?

nothing

I’m not too familiar with your ways. Early nights and hands that never stray along the lines of where I want to be touched. You are distant in a way that means more than just far away because there are bridges to cross and I’m not a fan of raging waters. I plead with you too often, “please tell me what you’re thinking” and I’m left with a literal “nothing” and I have to walk back alone with the lingering thought that you just maybe don’t want to tell me, tell me these words that I so want to hear because they are coming from your mouth and I want to become more acquainted with it. And I am pressed against you, and I can feel you but we are silent because there is nothing.

accelerated

Our words are like the two trains in that algebra problem, we’re constantly trying to figure out the place where they’ll meet. And you’re the kind who goes at 20mph and I’m the kind to accelerate quickly and I know we’ll never be two parallel lines heading in the same direction. I want you now, hard and real and making me finally feel, in that place right above my stomach where it keeps me up at night. You want  a life you can depend on, a schedule and functioning brakes and around 3am I’m trying to figure out how reckless I can be. I have a self destructive tendency, and I’m using you to get me there faster because I need to get to that junk yard. I need to rebuild these broken parts.

these things are difficult to define

Dear you,

If you would not like to label our relationship, I’m perfectly fine with that. I have complete confidence that if you would at some point want to be my boyfriend that you would let me know and make that clear and attempt to make that happen. Since, we are not bound by what I consider to be the traditional rules of being in a committed relationship with someone, I see no reason why you should not be allowed to do with your body what you would like. The same would apply to me. There is also, no reason why you should feel obligated to tell me about your encounters. The same applies to me. I’ve come to a point where I would very much only want to be with someone who would want to be with me. I’m learning to respect myself in that sense. I hope you have a lovely summer.

love,

privilege

you are privileged and I can feel myself on the ledge where I’m just about to fall off. I’ve never let anyone uncover these parts, large neon signs labeled private, but you, you trespass into these unwalked territories and I’ve never said yes so easily in your half darkened room. There were things that hurt at first but I was able to submit into you and your unfamiliar rough and dry hands with a kind of subtle eroticism and I’m not used to wanting so much skin before and I don’t know how use you are to getting what you want and I think I’m just another thing, another reason why they, whoever they are say you are privileged. 

declaration

And I’m living this suburban dream with you. Apple trees in the front yard and rose bushes in a backyard meant for looking up and forgetting that we are limited. I’ve never heard this kind of silence but it’s something I want to revel in with your slight intakes of breath. We are grounded here on this award winning lawn, and later on we’ll lie down on our Crate and Barrel sheets and not discuss what we did over Sunday brunch with the Carters. This two story colonial holds our never saids and don’t tell anyones. This was the dream, my suburban dream complete with property tax and china that we never use. But I signed this declaration. My declaration of dependence on you.

leroy st.

I want to walk around Amsterdam on a cloudy afternoon with you. I’ll gasp at the beautiful architecture and you’ll hug me from behind on the water bridge. The air will be cold and wet from the rainstorm that morning but your skin will be hot and your hugs will be tight and I won’t be able to stop smiling because I never thought I could have such a perfect moment. But here we are, just a detail in time to eventually be forgotten but I can’t forget you and the things that make you shy at night and the songs that make you want to dance in the day and the way you say “you are quite lovely.”

lifeofaweed asked: hi. firstly thanks for following me. and secondly, wow. i didn't know why you followed me or who you were so i checked your tumblr. and im speachless. you're so talented and your writing is beautiful. during reading it i just though "this was written for me" i've never felt that before. so for that i thank you :)

I always love it when people tell me that they can relate to something I’ve written because I think that’s what writing is about. To make connections with other people’s lives. SO, thanks so much! <3

pascal1980 asked: I love your writings, and I was wondering if you could give me a few hints on how you come up with things to write about? Just life, or have you had training? once again, I LOVE YOUR BLOGS (writings)!!!

Thank you so much! Honestly, probably just life. I started writing way before I took any creating writing classes, and I really don’t think any of them have really improved my writing in the sense that they’ve taught me techniques to use. I think what really helped was finding authors that I loved, and just writing down how I felt when I felt it. I hope that helps! Thanks so much!

potential

And anything could happen. We’re at the potential. We’re where you’re just as likely to pull away as kiss me right here and I’m waiting for you to do it, and I want you to do it, but more than that I want us to stay here in the potential. Where I can imagine a life filled with long cars rides on empty roads, large smoothies, and watching scary movies late at night. Here in the potential, in the lingering, we can be whoever we want, and we can dream whatever we want, and we can pretend that it might just come true, right here in the potential. But wait. I’m getting very ahead of myself. Because you haven’t moved closer and we’re still here in this space lingering on this moment.

strawberry scented skin

Let me be your beauty queen, your trophy girl, your strawberry scented skin. This is what I want, to be nothing but wanted, to be something you want to eat. New York cheesecake and black coffee, desert was always your favorite and I’m tired of reciting the same poems. I don’t want to say another word. So look at me like you look at her, and don’t bother to ask me how my day went, because we both just want to get to the point. So, let’s not waste our energy on forgetting words we said the day before and let’s stay in this reverie of pomegranate lip gloss and menthol chap stick.

picture frame

 

I don’t know why you’re holding back because I see the way you look at me and there’s no one here to watch. We came to this empty house by ourselves and you’re just another drink away but I’ll wait patiently, because I don’t want you to remember this tomorrow. This is an open window kind of evening and we won’t turn on the lights, because this isn’t a “you look so beautiful” kind of night. You’ll collapse onto the old bed and my skin will be hot, but your lips will be cold and I’ll take the bottle from your hand and take a sip and you won’t be nice. This is not the kind of night we picture frame.