OH MAY , I'm ready to see you

I am so enthralled.

Oh to be young in San Francisco

you've got this simple
SMILE that tangles itself
in this crowded head

hey, don't you worry
i'll handle this soul of yours,
extravagantly

Cabin Fever.

" Move Forward, and repeat after me with your heart"

Good morning 2010

Your body bows with the morning. Breathing sleepy. Dewy skin and heavy eyes. I understand you.

There are some kind of souls who try and pluck out all the worth from each day.
But in this morning I am unruffled.

Loved like caterpillar in a mason jar. No need to be free, just yet.

But loved.


And
Collected in my sheets.
Alone. Surrounded by the echoes of the sunrise. The noises outside my window call out like children lost in malls. I don’t want to be found.

Your simplicity amazes me. I spent a night with the you from years before, curling in your sheets. Thinking of how I was making up for lost time I had no real need to go back to.


We ate tangerines and I watched the rinds fall from your fingers. Slowly. Like the tendrils of my hair as you pushed them from my face. As I wake I feel indifference towards the warm bones I’ve tangled myself in. No unrequited love or scorned heart.
Just skin.
Just morning.

Merry Christmas

Christmas is always a little rough on me.
I’m aching for San Francisco.

Traveling with a heavy head

Normal people overwhelm me. People whose lives flow because they never looked for anything complicated. You know, those dull souls make me nervous. Maybe because I could just pursue something simpler. Or because I was surrounded by them at the airport today.
I tried to get on a plane with a bullet today.
They still frown upon that.

Oh ,December.

I think almost too often in past tense.

And it’s not because it’s nostalgia, it’s more of a …realization of how little I’ve done.
I’m sitting in this beautiful apartment, trying my hardest to remember how I even got through last year.

Because the past always speaks louder than what’s surrounding me. It shouts more, I guess. IT has been three years since I’ve seen you, Becca and it kills me how much I’ve let go since. Sometimes I think I hear your laugh, see your face, drink too much and think that you’re still alive.

And I think how I may be closer to the women who was the cause of it all. She may live down the street, across my window. She may be wrapped up in a thick blanket listening to Christmas music and baking for her grandchildren. Happy.

And it’s not fair, and I can’t blame anyone. But I’d like to say that I’m sorry I let you get away from me before I had the chance to tell you that you really did make me into the person I am now. The unproductive, quiet person. Because you always did the talking for me, just being around you made me look less wrapped up in my head. Because you knew that the past could choke our happiness. But you never let it.

And you’d be proud of me , that I’ve let my worries not effect my life. That I love my friends and have a passion for something larger than myself. That I too could be warm and happy.

You’re still twenty. And I can’t seem to begin to move my life somewhere whole.


It’s been three years since I last saw you.