over the shoulder

Dope ‘Nothing (Why)’ 

The rest of the world behind me, there’s no turning back for me now. A few nights in a row of communicating and tears brought on by apologies and truth–by drunken nights that one time included someone other than me. I forgave quickly, and crushed him with my kindness at once. I rushed back to him last night, cool and collected, laughing and hanging out, knocking back a few with him secretly giddy not from his beer, but simply from him.

Is this what it will take to make our fucked up, whatever-it-is-exactly relationship work? Will I end up the ultimate sacrifice, or bowing, praying at his feet…moreso than I already am? Will I hold to my insecurities, never feeling good enough, always wondering, and always a phone call away?

In the dim light, I watched him wrap his arms around me almost twice, squeezing flesh-to-flesh, and wondered if he was trying to make the past up to me, the past mistakes, or the future? Maybe those few drinks had gone to my head too much. Then again, what is a year? Another chance for a new heart to break mine? Most likely.

Why look over my shoulder in regret? Why not just stick with what I know?

testimonial

Just an old friend coming over
Now to visit you and
That’s what I’ve become
I let myself in
Though I know I’m not supposed to but
I never know when I’m done
And I see you fogging up the mirror
Vapor around your body glistens in the shower
And I wanna stay right here
And go down on you for an hour
Or stay and let the day just fade away
In a wild dedication
Take the moment of hope
And let it run
Never look back
At all the damage we have done now
To each other
To each other
To each other

But when I see you
It’s like I’m staring down the sun
And I’m blinded
There’s nothing left to do
and still I see you

Don’t you ever want to take something you’ve run across–a passage in a book, a song, a scene from a movie, and hold it up as a grievance, or a form of expression for whatever words you cannot, or will not, put your finger on, and out of your mouth. It’s in awkward desperation we hang to someone else’s words to say what we never will. Never win. If you’ve ever done it, the reaction is almost as negative as you’d secretly fear they be at the sound of the true confession. So much for honesty.

There’s a million people walking around boasting they’re open to everything, no longer uptight like their parents, and the best listeners, most understanding bastards on the planet. Somehow, I love you doesn’t quite translate.

Sex, lust, all the under the covers heavy breathing and grasps, speechless gasps for air between kisses, they’re all acceptable forms of payment for some time spent and patient smiles, as long as you’re saying their name, or saying nothing at all.

leaps of faith

I’ve been here. I want to take your hand, and jump off into the clearest thing I’ve experienced with you. I want to kiss you, and I want my wild ambition to explode into a thousand ways for you to say you’ll follow me over the edge.

articulate

Avenged Sevenfold lyrics

‘I’d run away tonight with my mind still intact I’ve gotta make it alright
Easier said than done with no place to hide and having no place to run

You’ve fallen asleep in denial
Look at the way we’re dyin’
How it ends I’ll never know
Just live your life blind like me’

It’s political, it’s romantic, it’s bitter, and it’s fucking amazing. Words just kill me sometimes, I swear. I wish I could find all the right ones, yet always find with unfortunate gratitude that someone has beaten me to it.

working for the weekend

Third Eye Blind ‘Blinded (When I See You)’

I am truly looking forward to it. Hope timing is still ideal for intimacy, and hope. I’m rehearsing what to say, how to say it, after an entire year of staying mostly mum, I am nervous, expectant, nervous, scared, nervous, wanting, and, umm, nervous. The moment you pour your heart out, the world stops. It must. I’ve never really belted it all out, but I can already see the hot tears, hear the rapid speech, the strain to my voice. In times like these, the revolutions which bring night to day must at least slow for me. Love unrequitted must have some cause and effect when actualized. I’d feel wholly cheated then, aware moreover of my foolishness and wasted time.

It’s hard not to think of it as wasted time if this doesn’t turn out positively. Sure it’s an experience, a lesson learned, and someone close to my heart, even if I don’t have one anymore (Auto threw it in his blender and turned it to the ’slow crush’ mode). All the times, all the other good ones I passed over to keep him and only him impeccably, and solely in that ivory tower…

I will follow this through. I know all the speeches in the world won’t get the words to come out how I plan, or make me look him in the eye and speak the truth. All the bracing for no reciprocation will not prepare me for hearing, or worse, seeing that it’s just not the same. Practice does not make perfect.

I have a day or two. Counting down………to detonation or deliverance?

modern love

Joshua Radin ‘You’ve Got Growing Up To Do’

It’s not just a David Bowie song (or the thousand remakes). The current sexually mature generation seems to have the healthiest outlook on the debacle of romance, love, sex, pain, and the strings attached. The best way to learn is how our parents taught us–sometimes you have to deal with the bumps and bruises, fall and stumble now and then to learn not what to do…only to do it over again. One night stands are the hot burner you’re warned to steer clear of–once you got a taste of how it felt, you realized why you shouldn’t have done it (although curiosity gets the better of all of us). Numbers don’t matter as much anymore, and letting go is supposed to be easier and easier no matter the circumstances. You’re supposed to throw a fit, cry, dry it up, and get it out of your system. We never really grow up, we just grow older. If only a mid-afternoon nap solved everything.

reoccuring theme

Butch Walker ‘Cigarette Lighter Love Song’

Yes, I am back to beg questions and quietly, meekly ask for answers. I’ll do it all in the most silent, polite way possible, aware that abrasive tendencies get no results. If no one hears me, I won’t get anything anyway, will I? My logic and demeanour don’t allow any alternative unfortunately.

I was standing outside, brisk air cutting my chest even with shallow breaths. There’s something about being alone. It’s really something.

Listening to a newly acquired friend, I understand how everyone needs to see, experience new things, and his appetite for such sends him away. I only want one. Something fantastic. Through the sickening treatments, the lows, the facade and false highs, the fear, I’ve held hope on a pedestal.

I’m sweetly demanding an experience, a romance, an emotion so baffling I have no words. I’d prefer if it also wasn’t always directly before orgasm.

West Coast worries

Modest Mouse ‘People As Places As People’

I have seen California as a child, as a teenager, and as a grieving sister. In my adult mind, I imagine it now as sunshine, daydreams, and sex on the beach every night. Not really. There is something about far away places of permanence that make you long for them, or long to escape the rain and the unfinished stories and scripts you could never find time to fully write into your life. All the power in me will be required to pack my bags for a week, and no longer.

bondage

Just Jack ‘Snowflakes’

You have the world ahead of you they all say. Shout. Tell. Retort. Insist. I see that. I see myself passing opportunity, letting them die, walk off, turn away, move across the country, and my reaction begs the question why? but my actions are those of tied hands.

Wind blowing through my hair, tear streaming solitary down my face mirroring my internalized emotion, I waved him off, wishing him well, loving him, and letting him go. He never came home to me. My soliliquoy at grave-side is drowned in images of him buried not in the earth beside me and soul skyward, but under the sand, sweat, and camoflauge that took him in the first place, and the last he ever saw.

Now they tell me what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. You’re the strongest one we know they say. Patronize. Comfort. Pity. They tell me from over a shoulder, on the way out. I have everything, and continually nothing, like tasting sugar; something real dissolves and before you can enjoy it, there’s nothing left but a sweet aftertaste.

“Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone. I know that’s impossible, but it’s too bad anyway.”

In so many instances, a girl is the one that got away. I am the one that never left. I’ll be foolish, and I’ll see you off when you’re ready to go.

what’s a girl got to do?

J. Holiday ‘Bed’ (ha, I had to!) 

Mr. Darcy once whispered to me, as if an affirmation, but more of a tip, a clue, and a slight annoyance from a girl with an ice heart, that a very recent accomplishment was ‘what it really feels like [to make love]‘. I didn’t need any pointers, I needed emotion. (Too little, too late, once again)

What I’ve really forgotten is unchoreographed, ritualized, and predictable feeding of the habit. I have only one real explaination of my behaviour and torment–an addiction. I’ll play off my regretable girlish nature as not being able to help it. There. Feel better, dear? No, I’ve still got an itch I can’t scratch.

‘Her bone structure screams touch her, touch her‘

Where is the sofa, the floor, the dining room table, the balcony, and (oh as trite as it is) the wonderful candle-lit bedroom. Hell, where is any room with all the lights on? Every room I enter is sexless and dry. My decency doesn’t allow for more than a frustrated sigh and a grin and bear it smile. Still, I’ve got to wonder what I don’t have going on that wouldn’t allow my stockings, heels, and corset to win over solitude and somewhat self-inflicted misery? Kill me with a whisper, boy, and if it’s not too much to ask, my arms (and legs?) over my head.

It’s not you, it’s me…? I know. This doesn’t help another however many days of sleeping alone.