With the swipe of an eraser, you can erase history. I never loved him, she was never my best friend. But with the strokes of the pen, you can rewrite it. Make sad stories not so bad - at least for those reading. For those interested. It's not that I loved him and he didn't love me back...we just didn't mesh well together. Actually, it's not that I "loved" him at all - he was the only one there. As a result of having no one else around, I decided he was good enough. My otherwise high standards were lowered so that he would fit them.

History is about lessons
learned so they aren't repeated.

Be kind.
Rewrite your history
so you can learn the lessons
no one else can teach you.

sincerely, me

late night
stealing away
long calls on patios
and dreaming of dreamy kisses

perpetually
stuck on the dreams
never
imagining futures
or bridging
seven year gaps

maybe that's why
my relationships never last
the farthest forward
i look
is beyond the tip of my nose
to where my lips
meet yours

you can't blame a girl
for sticking to what she knows

Ode to Young Heartaches

can you be in love at 15
when all you know about
romance was read in books?
watched in movies?
how can every song agree on what
love is
when no two people i know
can describe it in the same words?
how is every poem getting right,
when i, who reads it all,
watches it all,
listens to it all,
can not?

could i really have been in love at 15?
all the signs point to no.
but if that's the case,
how come my heart felt
broken
like all the books
movies
songs
poems
said it should?

I started to write about him, but then I erased it.
It's like ripping a photo,
turning a page,
extinguishing a flame.
He's had predecessors - boys with shining eyes and razor sharp tongues - perfect for cutting someone down. Perfect for ripping hearts to shreds. Except, I wrote so much about those guys, but then again, that's before I met Booze.
Some may say I drank my pain away. Truthfully, I drank to forget. For those bubbly, intoxicated hours and nights, I was happy. I had my friends and pretty dresses. Sometimes afterwards, I'd go about my day as usual - and other days, most days, I hurt.
My head. My stomach.
Mix two bottles of beer,
three shooters,
one Jameson and ginger,
and a broken heart.
Shake.
Stir.
Generally agitate.

Yeah, sometimes I drank my pain away -
knowing full well I'd later flush it away.

love lasts forever, but feelings can change.
i never doubt that i loved him for over five years, but that love dissipated and made way for apathy and disbelief. i couldn't bring myself to feel so strongly and so positively towards someone who held onto the past so tightly and so negatively. i've changed since high school and i wanted to think he had too, but around his birthday this past year i learned that he still harbored high school drama. he kept his heart cold instead of turning a new, matured page and i figure that if he can forget the good and just focus on the bad, i can forget it all and just focus on someone else.

secret garden girl

saved by hiding behind fences and locked gates
you'd need a shovel to find her thoughts
buried under bushes by the roots of trees
your curiosity climbs and seeps like the vines
she'd stand behind, out of view
bamboo spreads like ideas of breaking down walls
words linger like fog, hanging above everyone
gazes drop when words go too far and tales become too tall
she'd keep the key away from arm's reach
ideas won't bring you closer
fog isn't a blanket but a cover up
tall tales can't take you to the tops of trees

He had a mop of reddish brown hair, dark eyes, smiled out of the corner of his mouth and I grew up with him. By his side I became so much more than my taste in music and the clothes I wore. In so many words, I fell in love with him and though, in so many words, he left me, I can't stop, won't stop feeling that. There's no switch that you can just turn off and on whenever you please, love isn't something you can just quit. You can't stop loving like you can stop smoking, there's no such thing as cold turkey. I loved him when he made everyday something new and fun and I still love him though I spend my days with someone else. I could be with the man of my dreams and I'd still harbor all of this. This dark haired, shining eyed boy wasn't the man of my dreams. He was reality.