Good, bye.

Woke up writing. First in my head, and then on paper.  

 Lines and lines of shit I've always wanted to say to you: 

 A part of me always kept everybody who ever meant something to me within arm's length. I feel like if they went away, so would that part of me. That I would forget and lose that moment of my life forever. And I'm not even the sentimental type. I don't remember dates and I don't keep tokens of moments locked up in a shoebox under my bed. My bed doesn't even have an under. I let go when its its time to. I don't chase after ghosts. I let people slip through my fingers all the time. I've never tightened my grip over anything that didn't want to be held.  

 But then there are those ones. The ones I held tight, kissed, and then tossed away. The tide keeps bringing them back. They still need me to be there. And so I'm there.

 I used to think that maybe it's because I felt like home to them. But it's crazy how quickly people can build a foundation out of anything. So it can't be that. But still. I would like to think that I've left my mark on them. Something real, genuine, and meaningful. Something deeper than lipstick stains and scratch marks on their backs. Maybe it's more like a thumbprint on their brain. On the part that makes them feel safe, warm and satisfied.  

But it's this bad habit. I've kept them at an arms length. Let their pins and needles thread through my skin. I never notice they're there until they've climbed back into my arms. I think one day I'll cut them. All of them. Quickly and sadly. Letting them take fragments of me, and us, with them. I know it sounds terrifying and cruel. But maybe there is something beautiful about people taking pieces of you. Maybe there is something kind of wonderful about growing into your missing pieces, while other people piece their broken ones together.  

 It's dark out so I think I'll try that. I thought about this and I thought about all of you. I can't help where my mind takes shelter. 

What It's Like To Almost Love You

The moon right now. I hope you're looking at it. I love the rain and the clouds. I love what we do when it's dark out. It's a shame the way you do your thing. I guess it's been sunny.

I'm looking at you. And my fingertips feel different on your skin. Your bite marks are on my clavicle. Your thumbprint on my eyelids. My cheeks. And the bottom of my lips. I'm branded. Leftover kisses in my hair. I want to wash it off. Just a little, maybe. Cause I want you to linger.

Lips quiver in anticipation. Don't let anyone tell you different. I bite mine to hide from you. You used to cast a shadow on my mouth with yours. A soft space, dimly lit up by our chemistry. Fireworks.

We should explore. Go on an adventure. Hold out your shirt sleeve and I'll leave a trail of broken glass and broken hearts. No one will follow us.

We can dive into the most shallow part of your soul. Because that's all there is. The laps of your waves are addicting. Deep breaths. Tiny little gasps.

I'm hooked. I want to swim in your thoughts, taste your passion, and feel your dreams. I want to paint you with kisses and smiles. Pour out my art into you. Hoping for depth.

But I don't. My heart is too big and your hands are too strong... I guess.

The Wrong Guy

I don’t want to fall in love with you.

I’ve been up for an hour. My head is on your chest; my lips are on your body. Your arms are wrapped around me, your face buried in my hair. For the moment, you are mine, and every inch of me wants us to stay like this forever. Entangled in each other; corners meeting, skin kissing. But I let go first. I raise my head and trace little swirls on your clavicle with my fingertips. I want you to wake up so I can leave you. I want to leave you. Your eyes open with a smile. You kiss me on the lips and hold me closer. You take a deep breath and close your eyes again. I wish I could stay with you. I kiss your earlobe, but pull away to the edge of the bed, willing myself to get up. You find my hand and interlock your fingers in between my fingers. I let you. And you fold your body into mine, breathing softly into my neck. Maybe I can stay with you a little longer. I close my eyes and let my thoughts go. I ignore all the reasons to why I can’t have you, why I shouldn’t want you, and why I’d never let you have me. It doesn’t take much effort to forget your flaws. Or mine. Not when we’re like this. Not when you’re like this.

But your breath hitches and it snaps me back to reality. I’m in bed with a man who isn’t mine to keep. I pull my hand away from yours, drawing it close to my chest; protecting myself. I know you can sense my restlessness. You kiss the top of my head twice and hold me tighter. You never open your eyes. I close my eyes too. I know I can’t stay. But I don’t want to go. Maybe I’ll leave you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll leave me tomorrow.

Tonight, I’m yours. But I can’t fall in love with you. 

These Roads Go On Forever

People grow tired of things that are effortlessly achieved.
But they also grow tired of trying.

Favours favour a response.
Withheld answers cause withdrawn intentions.
Knocking doors should be answered – locked or openned – never ignored.

Slender Threads and Things To Treasure

It had been 15 minutes since the movie started, when his hand met mine. His smooth fingers tracing the outline of my hand, lingering at my finger tips. He traced circles and squares and hearts on to my palm. We played this silent game until his fingers found the courage to interlock with mine. I looked up at him, his eyes were on the TV, but I could see a smile in the corner of his lips. Then, he slowly curved his free arm around my waist, securing me into his warmth. I shifted a little, finding the perfect niche between his arms and his chest. No one seemed to notice our change of position.

He let my hand go, and gently swept my hair off my shoulders, placing them behind my ears. He whispered, Are you comfortable? I smiled. He nodded, as he leaned his head closer. I could feel his inhales and exhales on my cheek.
He continued to whisper in my ear. I bit my lip, as his continued to get closer and closer. They moved from my ear, to my jaw, and then stopped. Neither of us were watching the movie anymore. He placed his hand on my face; his thumb stroked my cheek lightly. I looked up at him, as he inched closer. He smiled and slowly tilted my chin upwards.

RE-POST: Afternoon Bike Rides

It’s 4:00 on a Friday afternoon and the sun is blazing. Thirty one degrees outside and I’ve got nothing but time. No homework and my parents aren’t home. The ice cream truck is about to round the corner. A loonie and four quarters – I am loaded.

My hands are sticky, my shirt is stained, but my attention is elsewhere. I stare at the bright red stop sign standing at the end of my street. It’s calling me. How fast can I bike to that stop sign and back? This is going to be grand. Time me.

I’m pedaling as fast as I can. My hair is whipping my face. I’m yelling at the top of my lungs. I’m flying. I swear I’ve got wings.

Fourty-five seconds. It must be some kind of record. I’m going to compete in the Olympics when I grow up. You try. I’ll time you. Ready. Go.

When the simple pleasures in life were exactly that – simple. What I’d give to be naïve again.

Unremarkable: A Poem

(Inspired by Alden Nowlan's Masks of Love)

I got in from a day
spent with someone who was not you –

Almond-covered chocolates,
Creamed-ice on a cone,
Flowers of bouquet,
Love cards on letters,
- or something, rather.

It seemed like it was going to rain,
I got sand in my sandals.
My eyelashes began to uncurl.

The dock posts were rusting,
And the boardwalk was uneven.

You see, without you, I was attentive.
You and I, we were unremarkable.

The days I spent with you –
I can’t even remember.

Sunset or sunrise,
Raining or snowing?
Were we in the city or at the park?
Candle-lit or daylight?

You talked too much,
laughed too much.
You sang too much.

I came in from a day
Spent with someone who is not you.