A Shameful Imagination
Sunshine overwhelms my tired eyes,
but glimmers across your skin,
smoothing over the humanly
bumps specking lean muscles
beautifully encompassing you—
and your scent that I miraculously
taste. Feeling your ridges
under my tongue, you are sweet
like an apple on the tree
of my childhood. Fruit tainted
by worms taking advantage. Another
opportunity ruined before ripening.
Just one taste
Forbidden by my own rules
from long ago. I will
never really know
But your eyes could be opened:
Sleeping in on a Saturday just because
we both want that and walking
in the fields that sustain us finding
the river streaming through the trees and flowing
through our dreams
quenching our thirst for something greater
we attend Sunday morning church
and drink coffee and eat toast
at our kitchen table
sunlight shining gently on your pale face
lighting up your eyes like it does
when we walk our dogs we adopted
from the streets surrounding our first home before
we could finally afford the farm
that feeds our creation
the children who have grown
into young adults like we are
now sitting beside one another:
Man and Woman, unashamed.
I look at your handsome face, disastrously
glancing at me throughout
class. Our future together
already fading, and which
you can never know of is
the incomprehensible tenderness I have for you
are good and pure, and divine
A loving presence
Some nights growing up I would start to cry myself asleep, but he wouldn't let me. He always found me in my crowded room, laying on my bed. Alone.
Jumping up, leaning in, whiskers brushing my damp cheeks. His soft fur smelled of smoke and fresh air.
The rhythmic ins-and-outs of his breathing calmed me, no matter how overwhelmed I felt. His large chartreuse eyes held a comfort that I have never found within a person.
The expression on his little face, with his little wet nose, reminded me that everything would be okay.
Whenever I stroked his smooth dark fur, I remembered that there was more to life than my worries.
No matter how lonely I felt, or how alone I actually was, he always found me when I needed him. Laying beside me until I fell asleep. Tail lightly tapping my forearm.
When I close my eyes at night, I occasionally smell the faint scent of outside air. Sometimes I swear I even fall asleep to the sound of his purr.
Is Love Really Lost if it Never Existed?
Let’s not pretend. I can’t do it anymore. I know I shouldn’t be saying this. Believe me, please.
You smiled at me, and I smiled at you. You laughed with me, but I cried by myself. You talked to me first, and I really wish that you hadn’t. From the first moment that I saw you, I knew that I had to stay away. Your dark eyes held a comfort that I hadn’t felt in a long time. There was a familiarity about them that lingered even after I left. And then you spoke—and we talked. I couldn't stop. I couldn't push you away.
I know that I should have.
But how could I? It all felt right—as though every moment of my past had led me to you. All the longing, pain, regret, and heartbreak became nothing. It all combined into the moment we met. It was like you were made to fit into the keyhole of my life. You inspired me to be truthful to myself. You made me question whether the life that I had was the one that was most worth living. I reconsidered what it means to be happy, what it means to love.
There was a time when I thought that love was simple, straightforward. To love one means to feel indifferent about all. But then I met you. I do love her, but I miss you. I was young when I first fell in love. It seemed to me at the time as though a delicate air surrounded me. I didn’t notice anyone else. Only she could capture my attention. My love story with her was beautiful—is beautiful. That doesn’t make our’s any less exceptional. It does make it seemingly impossible.
There is a comfort with her that I have known since my youth. Even as I grow, she stays with me. She is security within a chaotic world. She has been the only thing that I could rely on during the past nine years. And she does make me happy—although, not in the same way that you have made me happy. When I am with you, the chaos surrounding me no longer exists. It’s only us. But I guess that when we are together, we are the chaos.
In some world, we are meant to be with one another. You and I. Me and you. I believe that. But I’m afraid this just can’t be that world. If the last two years had gone the way they were meant to go, if all the pandemonium no longer existed, all signs would’ve pointed to you. If space and time had only been different…
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that this isn’t what you wanted. Being around one another isn’t good for either of us. I can’t give you what you want, and I am only torturing myself by pretending that I can. This thing—this magical, wonderful, beautiful thing—has existed. It has disguised itself as sneaking glances, dimpled conversation, and coincidental meetings. It took place between the two of us. I hope it was all in my head.
But maybe I don't.
There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think of you. I go to school, and I know exactly where I’ll pass you in the hallway, where you once smiled and waved, we now both turn our heads in opposite directions to avoid the question of whether or not we should say hi.
I once was able to walk through those hallways and not constantly wonder if I would bump into you, or if you were wandering the hallways too. I was able to go to my classes and never think of how you were in history: upstairs, opposite hallway, three doors down. I was able to go to my locker and look down the hallway, over at your’s, and not be worried that you would think that I was staring. I was able to talk to you, at anytime, and know that you wouldn’t think that I was trying to win you back.
But everything changes, doesn’t it?
Everything changes when you decide to make a relationship out of a friendship. Everything changed when you decided that it didn’t work. That we “didn’t have enough in common.” Everything changed when the next day, you weren’t at my locker talking to me, but you were directly across the hallway, 10 feet away, with her. Walking her to lunch. Her. You didn’t even know her. But you smiled at her like you did. You looked at her like I swear you used to look at me. Like you looked at me two weeks ago.
Everything changed when I tried to reach out to you, when I knew that the sting and pain of your rejection was only worse when I never got to see you. I did try, and yet you thought I wanted more than a friendship, didn’t you? You thought that I was begging you to come back.
I wasn’t— not in that way, at least.
No, I was begging the person that I knew before all of this to come back. Asking you to be my friend. To be the friend that you once were. But you can’t see me the same way, can you? I was worried about this. Do you remember? Do you remember when you were the one that liked me? When you were the one that wanted to test the waters of having a relationship? Do you remember what I said? I asked you if we would be able to be friends if one of us decided that it wouldn’t work out. You told me of course. “Some people just don’t work out, like my parents. But we, we will always be friends.”
Friends like your parents are?
I should have caught on quicker— your parents aren’t exactly eager to see each other, are they? But no.
Here we are. This weird back and forth. I feel like your last choice, when I once was always your first. I want to be friends again, I want to ignore the past, but not forget it. I can’t. You know that, don’t you? You should have known how all of this was going to go. I remember what my brother said to you, “She can take care of herself.” Do you remember what you said? “Oh. I know.” I know you know.
You knew this couldn’t go well. I wish I could be your friend, your actual friend. But I don’t think I can reach out first again. I already tried. Then you kind of tried. I was still nice to you, but I didn’t ever tell you exactly why I said no to prom. I wish I had, but I didn’t.
Maybe you really didn’t think that anything that you did was wrong. Maybe you had no ulterior motives. Maybe you really did want to start fresh. Maybe you were even secretly happy that my friends turned you down, and so you were “forced” to ask me.
But you didn’t tell me anything. You didn’t explain anything. You had nothing to lose, while I had everything. I’m sorry. But if you actually value my friendship, then you’re going to have to try a little harder. I wish you didn’t have to, but you do. Which probably means
#friendship #romance #breakup #school #brokenheart
Shall I compare thee to a steamy cup of tea?
No, for thou art scarcely warm.
Thy leaves steep but never solve to be,
And neither will thou's translucent form.
The crystallization of thy sugars but fall,
For though it seems but so foolish to the kettle
It is not foolish at all.
Thou only see'st them settle,
But to the ground thou floats above.
The tiny bits of leaf,
And to thine eyes of love
Thy leaves are thou's grief.
So long as tea can settle, can thou not settle to be,
So long as thou breathes, can thine windows see.