one day

        i’ll pass you

in	the	hallway

and i’ll grab your hand and pull you

        into a deserted 

        room

close off the world

never taking my eyes off of yours

and l’ll defy you :

	one day

that you haven’t remembered 

 	[ strawberry  –  cherry ] 

    laying entwined 

on [our mutual inhibitions letting us free]

    the bedraggled couch worn away

.	.	.	.	.	.



and then what ?

what will i say when you 



d

e

n

y

m

e



and my illusions fall away from me ?



you’ll walk out and leave me alone

  with everything said 

        [nothing accomplished]

  except those words i can’t say

because i mean them too much 

noth
i
ngness
and as she wa
i
ts, she paces, her m
i
nd wanders. she knows
he won't return, yet she rema
i
ns, her outward appearance one of conf
i
dence wh
i
le she falters
i
ns
i
de, her lungs, trembl
i
ng, her organs t
i
ght unt
i
l she collapses and
nobody knows why but
maybe they should have
looked at her eyes
i
nstead of her body.

i drink in your liquid insults (.01.02.03.04) one by one, taking them in fast (.09.10.11.12) so they won't burn as much. day by day, i come closer (.14.15.16) and closer (.17.18.19) to the degrading grave you're digging me. and as i sink deeper, i remember how you said that one (.20) little (.21) shot (.22) wouldn't hurt, but i'm way past one (.23.24.25), and i collapse(.26.27.28), smelling of concealer and visine so nobody notices (.29) my eyes are red and dull in this drowning death (.30) you've finally driven me to.

she sometimes wished that her family life wasn't so despairing, and that every fight wasn't imprinted in detail in her memory and in savage etchings on her right wrist.

he kisses with too much tongue. he could never kiss like you, but he is somebody to kiss. i always start missing you when i start seeing mistletoes ... or every time i kiss somebody. remember those nights on your couch, with the movie illuminating our profiles, even though we weren’t watching the movie ? our conversations intertwined with kisses, and you said “I’ve never had a whole conversation while kissing somebody before.” i hadn’t either. and i never will, because that represents you in my head, and i could never replace you. i keep trying and trying and for a day or two i think i may have succeeded, but you walk into the room with your spiky hair and soft lips and my heart stops beating until we lock eyes and you break the spell first. you always break the spell first, because it is not a spell for you. it is just another girl that cares more for you than you will ever know, or respond to. what would you do if i grabbed your hand one day ? if i actually could come up to you take you back to that couch where you reminded me what you owed me and kissed me more gently and more passionately that i had ever been kissed ? holding hands with you was natural. we fit them together perfectly. we fit together perfectly. so the next time i go to the pier, i will throw my penny in and make my wish and hope you are doing the same on the other side, and i’ll linger a minute longer than i should, waiting to see if you emerge from the shadows. and i know you won’t because you never do. and i’ll keep trying anyway, and when that doesn’t work, i’ll try to hold your eyes and you’ll know what i am trying to say. but you’ll look away because you know that tortured look in my eyes all too well and you’ll keep walking and take somebody else’s hand, and i’ll notice how she can’t even hold your hand right. i know you deserve much better than that. even though our hands fit together right, i know that you deserve better than me too. and i’ll never be able to take your hand again.

(...i didn't want it to mean that much to me...)

Tentatively stepping forward, opening the door an inch at a time, unsure of what she’d find, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Sprawled on the floor of the walk-in closet lay what she’d feared finding. His demise and her horror, exhibited in a 5’6, blue-eyed frame. A mix of emotions rushed through her like freezing water, and she almost threw up. Collapsing in a state of shock, she pulled her knees to her chest, sitting on the floor shaking intensely. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when she heard the telephone ring. Looking at her watch, she realized the hours and hours had been a matter of seconds. She couldn’t figure out where the ringing was coming from, but it was somewhere in the small 4 by 6 closet. It was clutched in his hand. Her “Hello?” was barely a whisper, and the voice on the other end reminded her that life goes on. It had gone on time and time again when this had happened. She got in her car and drove to work. On the way, she called her mother and left her a message. “He’s in the closet.”

it's not a war on drugs, it's a war on personal freedom.
every time you turn around a new opinion is formed. sometimes i can’t live without your eyes and sometimes i can’t bear to look into them, but i always want them around. a few weeks ago you said you could get lost in my eyes. maybe you did, and now you’re gone forever, drowned into eternity because i couldn’t tear my stare away from you. but you’re probably lost in somebody’s else’s, using those same adoring lines and that’s why you haven’t called. i close my eyes when i answer the phone so i can’t see the caller ID and keep that hope that it may be you for a few seconds longer. if i told you that, would you stop calling me completely ? or have you already ?

i am sitting, looking down at you. but somehow, we are here, together, talking. and i feel so displaced from this world, but not out of love for you, because this is not love, or lust, or anything like it. because of the fact that the person who reaches past me, grazing my cheek, couldn’t tell you how i am feeling, or what i am thinking, or who i am directing my poetry to. and the person that my poetry is written for (and my heart is given to) won’t ever care to see it. and as i sit and listen to why you can’t be here any more, i look around and see that i’m not a part of this anymore. that i am indirectly in the center of this scene and, chances are, that the people on the outside of this picture will never even notice that i don’t belong here. meanwhile i stand on the outside with them, smiling at the irony of it all. and i jumble my thoughts haphazardly into a sentence, struggling to make you understand. but you won’t. how could you? and you are sitting below me, looking down at me.

slipping in through c   a   k   and out through windows

                      r   c   s



lovingly adored.



                      covering up the burn marks 

with long sleeves and makeup

so as not to remind of the past nights

of the past fights



painfully ignored.



                      pondering if you can tattoo over scars

and how to explain to the artist  

the artwork already permanently 

                      covering the body



basking in attention



drinking in the liquid bitterness

like vodka, 	burning throats

                      breaking hearts

and		weakening mentalities 



until enough is enough

and,		walking out the door

one last breath of freedom is drawn

before the final blow is delivered

and 		falling 

free	you land.

tossing and turning in fitful unrest
unable to stop
(thinking about that night)
and distract myself with dreams.
the air, laden with the sweet smell of spring,
my shirt, laden with your scent.
in the end, you always left me smelling like Polo and cigarettes.
in the end, you always left me.
but i kept holding on, pulling you back in desperation.
at a loss for words because i didn't know
how i could remind you of what we had.
my choppy half-sentences mirroring my head
thinking one thousand synonyms for love
but unable to compose them into a well-written song
that i would sing straight to your heart
to change it back into what i thought it was, what i know it was, that night.
maybe just that one night.
but that was all i needed to make you
the only thing i could stand to look at,
and your voice, the only sound my ears could take.

... so i wrote it and i didn't like it, i only liked the two lines i posted yesterday, but then i decided i liked it after all, so i just posted it whole, but amy's comment was so great that i wanted to leave it. that is all ...

in the end, you always left me smelling like Polo and cigarettes.
in the end, you always left me.

to do. [naked woman]

1. shave.

2. get my tires rotated and my oil changed.

3. get my transcript sent to PBCC.

4. pick susie up from school at one o'clock !!!!!

5. english homework.

6. maybe go to science class.

7. cash ten dollar check.

8. get high (when i pick susie up from school).

9. update journal.

10. polish penguin earring.

11. find out who the stalker girl is.

12. masturbate.

13. start conversation with linda; get number.

14. go shopping with leftover money.

15. find a way to buy pot. (should be on top, not on bottom.)

*~so for a long time i let this bother me. then recently i began to realize that this happens to everybody, and it was not my fault at all. and if you’re going to act differently with me when you’re around her, then i will just try to avoid you two together. maybe even you two separately. and yea, maybe i don’t have anybody quite like you, that fits so perfectly with me, to be with. but you know what ? i can live without it. until i find somebody who smiles just like you do, i will just quietly sink into the background and try to remain unnoticed, and not let anybody see that i am just half of what i used to be. and when i do find someone like you, i will remember you and what we had, but put that away and start from the beginning with them. but i hope you don’t forget me completely, because i will never forget you.~*