waking up, i'm glad you're gone

out of my life

completely.

haven't thought of you lately

even when i find myself listening to the songs that used to remind me of you.

i don't miss your company,

it wasn't that great anyways.

and your wandering hands

i once found so pleasing

i now recognize as the lost ships that they were

fumbling without a guiding light.

i've kept you out of mind

because while once you turned me on

now i just feel off.

your memory doesn't make me happy

thankfully you killed the notion of that when you broke my heart

and that pain blocked out any of the great

(was there ever any?)

and eventually led to nothing.

i don't remember that pain anymore either

which i guess is good.

i just stopped remembering you.

unpack and assuage my fears

one by one

my pack is heavy

and i'm complicated

but please

keep on trying.

here, i'll do the work for you,

undo the zippers and

unlock the locks

but please

finish the rest.

i can't do it myself,

otherwise i would

make sense of my mess.

but if i were to try,

i'd get sucked in all over again

one at a time

clean out this full and heavy heart

my life is a mix tape

put together so carefully

listened to so intently

and eventually forgotten by the wayside.

tapes were replaced by cd's

but i'll still be here

when you want to listen

and reconnect to your past.

there's a hidden track if you're willing

and you can play me again if you want.

remember to rewind when you're done

i want the next listener to start at the beginning.

i haven't been looking for you

not recently

it wasn't in the hopes that you'd show up

when i wasn't looking,

though, that would be nice.

no, it's mainly because...

i've already spent so much time

looking, analyzing, agonizing.

and sometimes a girl just needs to stop

stop looking

maybe even stop caring

until one day

someone comes out from the shadows

and takes the shape

of the empty spot beside me

i didn't know was there

i know now that we'll never be together again

and that all of his promises will go unfulfilled

i'm not surprised though

which is pretty sad

show up in the middle

and open heart surgery

looks like murder.

start from the beginning

and you and i

look like a fairy tale.

everything's old-fashioned,

nothing technologic,

that's supposed to imply

meant-to-last

because that's how things worked

when old-fashioned

was typical.

from the beginning

what we had looked like

a storybook tale

but start from the middle

and it's open heart surgery.

fast forward to the end

and someone's left on the table

not sewn up

all grown up

another casualty

in the old-fashioned

war of the open hearts,

a tale as old as time.

everybody lies

there's the truth

i do it to others

but my best

i keep for myself

delusions

and romance

don't go well together

kind of like you

and i

there's the truth

but that's not what

i dream about

not what keeps me

smiling into the morning

every body lies

and mine is

a repeat offender

i want to let you under my skin

but i'm scared because you might want to stay

i don't know if i'll be good for the long term

i'm best when i push people away

sometimes i think i'll be alone forever

and sometimes i think i'm only good for short flings

sometimes i think i can live with that

but most days i know i need more things

i don't know if i can get everything i need from you

and maybe that's why i'm scared

unsure of whether to give my all

to someone who might decide not to care

years ago i might not have been so rational

and thought this completely through

i wouldn't have cared how we ended

as long as i had a beginning with you

but there have been times, and men, who wronged me

and because of that i've become careful

i started to keep my dreams of love to myself

to keep from becoming sentimental

so i don't tell you i love you

though i might act otherwise

i won't unravel my feelings easily anymore

it's up to you to undo the ties

mostly, it's hard going back and reliving the past.

mainly, it's because we skim the good

to focus on the bad.

the evil stares and stunned looks,

all those times we messed up,

and acted out of hate and spite.

i acted like someone back then

that i don't even know anymore

but you act the same.

years later and i still get the same looks from you.

it hurts differently now though

you used to break my heart

but i don't let you near that now

the hurt i feel now is the pain of disbelief,

why you can't move on like i chose to do

and why lashing out seems so appropriate to you.

i don't talk about you to others -

in my journal's confines is where you're relegated -

but apparently more and more

people become privy to our inner workings.

for me, it's hard to drudge up the past,

because it's the bad seeds

that fight to be close to the top

so i tend to leave it all underground,

to keep the light out,

so my good memories can spread their roots

and provide me with more

good fruit in the future

i wish life was more like a sketchbook,

only recording the memories you want

drawing whatever's interesting.

unlike life, you can easily cover up mistakes,

take more than one mulligan,

and re-do an entire page

as many times as you want.

sketchbooks can be secret

and you can have more than one

but maybe we'd make more mistakes

in life if we knew we could 

easily paste a pretty picture on top.

and isn't that what we do anyway?

no one sees the work behind the pretty facade,

though they may know it's there

(ink bleeds through pages)

maybe life is like a sketchbook

in that people can only see

what we let them

he gave me something to say

but then he took that away.

like always, i thought he was different

but time after time i find they are all the same.

i'm not afraid to be alone

i mean, i'd prefer another way

but if these are the men i'm attracting

i don't know if i'll find the right one some day.

sometimes i wish i read less

so i wouldn't expect so much

but if i have a daughter,

i'd teach her the same.

raise your standards always,

never let them drop,

if someone thinks you're worth it,

they'll climb to the top

of the tree you planted

to provide shade and respite

a good man whose worth it

will fight to climb any height.

so i guess what i'm saying is,

yes, so far no one's manned up,

and made it to the top of my tree,

but then again i'm at the top,

unable to see whose down there,

looking up at me.

there's some mystery there

not everything's being said

some truths are kept

some lies are told

but neither of you truly care

you're comfortable where you are

each has grown accustomed to the other

your lives are shared

the lies are still there

you're both in it too far.

they're not being truthful

both have secrets and shames

dreams come and go

they don't share those

and they slowly grow apart.

there was a mystery between them,

but the truth was there was no

mystery left

they both bled dry

keeping each other secret from themselves.

they left each other as strangers

because they couldn't tell the

truth from the lies anymore

and that, is the danger

of mystery.

i want more color in my life

everything i've experienced to now

has been black and white.

i need more red nails,

yellow shoes,

pink lips and

green eyes.

bluer skies would be a good start

but i need more than this.

orange hugs and indigo hands

searching for one another through

silver tension, creating gold relief.

i want more illuminated bodies

reaching out for technicolor kisses.

and glistening hair catching

blistering sunlight,

just waiting for chocolate hands

to run through it.

violet thoughts ebbing through

mauve minds

coming out in teal words

rolling off tan tongues.

i don't want to see things in shades

of grey anymore.

i don't want it to be either or.

i want all the choices i can muster

every color of the rainbow

present on me

in you

surrounding us

casting magic spells without trying

and leaving a mark

being remembered by others

by strangers who themselves

aren't brought to mind.

awkward glances at bus stops

leading to awkward conversations on the ride home

i don't know what i end up doing

but it's memorable

to all the wrong people.

where are those i'm trying to impress?

i'm the one stealing glances at them

but i'm not bringing it up

i don't want to know that to them

i'm unremarkable.

he told me mood rings were from the 70's and that i should stop living in the past

but he's not giving me any reason to live in the now...

he isn't offering his hand for me to hold

nor is he licking his lips looking at mine

why should i leave the past, a time of free love?

no one else is worried about this fixation.

he told me my huge ring was so 70's and out of place at the college dive-bar we drank at...

so i clocked him in the face with it.

hope is like a lamp
glowing in the dark and leading the way
sure, it can be turned off
or eventually burn out
but never for long
because eventually
someone comes along and puts in a new bulb
one that burns brighter than those before.

you were my first stormy sea
the first time i ever had all hands on deck
i still haven't weathered you
but i let you rock my boat
knowing that regardless of whether i stay afloat
or capsize
i know i'll still make it safely ashore
i know how to swim
i can hold my breath
and i can withstand the cold
i have in the past
and just like before,
this storm will also end.

falling asleep with the taste of mimosa still sweet on my tongue and waking up to the smell of muffins and you hasn't happened in a while. i wish i had bottled your scent or at least savored our mornings more. 
i didn't know you'd leave
and go so far 
for so long
but truthfully, even if i had 
i doubt i would've acted differently.
i would've still been as rash as i was back then
never stopping to let it all settle in
i still haven't settled.

ladylike glove-covered hands
texting un-ladylike messages
to handsome almost strangers
who might as well be lovers
if only their texting could amount
to anything more than smiles
kept to oneself behind the privacy
of their telephone screen
if they were to meet in person
and had to face one another
those ladylike gloves
would be left at the door
underneath a pile of their clothing

the only time i found
the sound of rain soothing...
i couldn't stay in bed
and enjoy it.
my alarm rang and i knew
i had to get up, run and go
to work in it.
since then, i pray for rain
so i can lay in bed
and enjoy it.
only
it's lost its magic.
instead of soothing and
calming
all i hear is the
drip drip of the drops
and the howling
of the wind
through the trees

sometimes i wish the world didn't stop
when night falls
talks at the dining table,
drinking hot chocolate,
illuminated by the moon
instead of curling up in separate beds.
no matter how together people can be
during the day
it's at night
when being alone
becomes painfully clear

this, i believe, is why midnight showings,
twenty-four hour diners
and long, nighttime drives
were invented.
to prolong the time between cold sheets