I thought I heard you say “I love you”
I’m kind of certain, kind of stoned
I thought I heard you say…
You said you don’t
“Not ready for that commitment”
I don’t get it
Riding on the handlebars of your bicycle
Playing basketball in tights with strangers
Going out into the phosphorescent ocean at 3 am
Riding our bikes to the bar at 1am when I have to be up at 6am
All the things you pressure me to do because you know I’ll feel alive
I am stretching out my…
I feel really swirly which means smothering which means I always always want to be with you, rain or shine, sick or healthy.
Everything reminds me of you and I keep holding my tongue but I always want your hand on my back or you inside of my body and
Sometimes when you cum all I think about is “I don’t know if I’d have his kid”
You’re a wild man, your friend is writing a movie about you—the great ape. That’s what you are in his movie.
When you look down on me and smile and call me beautiful I’ve never felt more completely satisfied and insatiable
My whole body is screaming your name, every atom but
It’s only been maybe a week and a half so I feel fucking crazy.
I want you
I want y o u
I want you so bad it’s driving me mad
It’s driving me m a d .
Another boy brought me soup to work and he said last night “I’m sorry we had sex so soon, I really felt like I lost out on getting to know you—which is what I want to do now, I want to be your friend and I want to take care of you.”
But what if its more important to me
That I have sex with you twice a day, morning and night
And that you take me out for French fries when I’m sad
And you make fun of me when I can’t finish them
And you pour hot sauce in my ketchup so I can get used to spicy food so we can go on a date and eat spicy Chinese food together.
What if I’d rather have your room mates say they want to see my boobs then say “she’s so great, don’t break her heart”
What if I’d rather have someone who moves his hips in a figure 8 and makes me cum from sex than someone who’s only had sex consistently with me and who is kind of bad—just new at it
I hate feeling this and I love feeling it
I wish I knew how to yell at you so you’d want me
And I feel myself changing shape again ( or am I just growing )
I want you in bathroom stalls and in church parking lots
I want your family insignia on my thigh
These are all my secret thoughts
In the dark typed out with a cigarette
Cause I’m not ready for bed yet cause
You’re not there
You’re outside in the night and
The closest I can get to you this second is staring at the stars so I’m staring into a black void
Wishing you would swallow me whole
boys always say that leggings and uggs are the “”“white girl uniform”“” but like
From the mouse upstairs
I’m learning lessons from a mouse
Like how to hide from people when I’m afraid
Like how to take my scraps of bread in the dark.
Like how to leave little d r o p p i n g s
For you to find.
I left my neighbor coffee beans.
I leave my man my misgivings, the remains of how I know to love.
Sometimes I feel all dried up
Even at the age of 21.
I’m sorry I’m talking to the boy you like
After work at the bar.
Sometimes it’s easier to listen to him talk big, and ask questions that I already know the answer to
Sometimes it’s easier to hide from the people you really want.
I’m sorry I leave you presents and then disappear
Sometimes it’s easier stealing scraps in the dark.
Little mouse upstairs
That doesn’t tell people what she needs.
Little mouse upstairs
Plump from hormones and bread crumbs
Little mouse upstairs
No mouse family
No mouse mother
No mouse husband
No mouse brothers
Can you feel all this empty space?
The abyss of silence,
Filled with every voiceless desire
Screams into me today.
Once there was a boy who loved this little mouse
And left not only bread scraps, but flesh and blood and bone
I never knew what it felt like
To be seen.
It’s hard to be seen again, and again, and again.
It’s easier taking my scraps in the dark.
For coffee and potato chips
At the unholy hours of night.
Little mouse is seen by god,
And for this she is told she must be happy.
Saying that its enough to be seen by god
But maybe truth is that way at times.
tough love and boundaries;
because you’re old enough to remember by yourself.
because you’re old enough to provide for yourself.
because you’re old enough to know something for yourself.
when i brought my own towel to shower,
and you forgot to grab one, assuming you could share,
i let you use my towel but made you go get another for me
even when you whined, “why won’t you just go get it?”
when i cooked you breakfast,
and did every dish but the handful that we used to eat,
i asked you to do the dishes and left you alone at the sink,
even when you whined, “but i have to go soon.”
when you stained your friend’s sheets
and stuck them in the washer to clean them,
i dragged you to the laundry room and taught you how to use the washer
even when you whined, “i don’t even need to know how to do this.”
than too tender.
too tender has no boundaries,
when she draws a beautiful picture in the sand,
the ocean does not even notice when its water rushes through to ruin it
and too tender keeps drawing pictures,
and the ocean keeps not noticing.
tough love has a fence,
and a garden full of herbs and vegetables behind it.
she invites you in through the gate,
she cooks you a meal with the fruits of her spirit,
and she tells you when its time to leave
and tough love does not feel guilty about it.
the problem with dating charming people:
charm is something that you typically only notice when you’re actually standing in front of them. therefore, when a friend sees a picture of an ugly boyfriend, she may cringe; the friend meets the boyfriend in person, and can see why you’re dating him. “he’s charming.” he gets cuter the more you talk to him, to a certain degree.
and THAT is what i don’t think you can trust.
my friends who have met my current boo thing are the friends who are excited im with him.
my friends who have never met him, however, are not fans. i have tried to give an equal amount of good information (ie, “he bought me dinner, he’s so cute, he doesn’t treat me like im crazy, etc”), and bad information.
examples of what these friends have said:
- "he orders chai lattes, and he doesn’t give you the time of day.. thumbs down. drop him."
- "man, the more you tell me about this guy, the less i like him."
so i am attempting to discern if this is just a case of charm. is he really a good guy, or do i just think that when he’s around and feel like shit when he’s not? (bingo.)
a prophetic poem i will not send, but i believe it will travel through the air tonight and braid your hair like a big sister while you sleep:
i used to hate you because you look just like i used to,
but now i am sorry because you look like i used to
with your short curled hair matted around your face,
charcoal and ink stains on your hands.
you will create more out of this dust.
be glad this was not buried deep
be glad your soul is not his to keep
you are not broken, you are not small
you are amazing and bright
his hands will not burn you any more
his words are not allowed to scald you any more
sweet angel, the Beloved desires
to tell you about His love for you.
will you listen, oh please?
(if you can not, i will ask Him to whisper in your ear when you sleep
He streams His love across for you like a banner
in the morning, it adorns your walls, though it may seem invisible at times,
and at night it cradles you and keeps you warm and cool at the same time.)
the fever is breaking.
and now you are sweating out the lies.
when this is all over i swear
your smile will look like a bouquet of wildflowers.
thankful for slow wednesday mornings, counter culture coffee, watercolors, and cocorosie.
you wanted to know what changed,
but nothing changed
i just became a little more hidden.
i learned when a man asks for more, but does not give more himself,
the best thing to do is
darling, if you knew.
you said it didn’t matter
he was my friend before you came into the picture
darling, if you knew.
you said you and i, we weren’t really together
so i could do whatever i wanted, you called me “doll”
darling, if you knew.
on the phone last night
i told a boy in florida i would drop everything for him;
i had known that since i locked eyes with him at 16.
that didn’t mean that our everything would be good
it just meant that i would always fight for it.
then after wine and your best friend’s favorite movie tonight
we smoked cigarettes on the porch,
and i told him why i feel like a shitty person.
"it’s an asshole move to be trying to date someone when you like their best friend,"
and he just said, “it’s an asshole move to be drinking and watching movies with the girl your best friend is into.”
we left it at that, talking about red flags.
i am one big red flag.
i dyed my hair red and i prayed you’d see what i see
but you want me to dye my hair back brown
(or blonde, you said, when you tucked my hair behind my ear)
you said any color but this.
cause you’re not a boy who wants a
but i don’t know how to be anything but a
darling, every molecule in me wants your breath
but i don’t want your spirit and i don’t want your soul
i don’t want your heart
and i don’t want you to see my spirit and my soul and my heart
i want you to see me in glimpses
like something behind a flittering white veil
a flash of skin
a flash of bone
one big blurry image behind it all.
you seem to be sitting and waiting
but i already unlocked the window,
"i give it six months," a boy told me at work.
so the real question is
do i jump now
with no arms to carry me when i hit the pavement at the bottom?
or do i keep letting this veil flutter
until your heart can’t take it
and you stand to move the curtain?
(please, do not stand, please do not stand.
darling, if you knew,
oh darling if you knew.)
in the morning i pray this will all be clearer.
i think we all do that, after 12 on sunday nights
but now it’s not just me praying.
a sick triangle.
darling, darling, if you knew.
and now two out of three of us do.