Dark Rooms

Falling in love is like a photography dark room. At first you’re lost, in the dark, scared and disoriented. Then slowly, your eyes adjust and you begin to see things you didn’t before. Things aren’t scary anymore. The smell of the chemicals becomes a part of your skin, just as there can’t be a me without you. But the best part is how everything that scared you can create such beautiful things.

He's Cracker Jacks and Baseball Games on the Radio

He’s cracker jacks and baseball games on the radio. He’s so tone-deaf; he causes confusion when he tries to sing a popular tune. He’s junky old cars whose problems don’t seem to matter as long as they run. He’s watching Disney movies with his daughters and imperfect ponytails after trying so hard. He’s sweaty running shoes and all the clutter around your house and buying packs of gum on sale. He eats all the cookies in the cookie jar and then claims to have only eaten “a couple”. He’s the smell of newsprint and old maps and new maps. He’s the overwhelming need to make sure those he loves will be provided for. He’s the plan for the future and horrible planning skills. He’s outrageous drunken stories from his youth and breaking into zoos. He’s stock markets and the need to always do something. He’s long car rides and only listening to talk radio.

He’s most of the things that embarrass you.

He tries so hard not to be.

She's 5 O'clock Somewhere and White Wine and Mojitos

She’s 5 o’clock somewhere and white wine and mojitos. She’s the jokey songs you hear at weddings and the cheesy dance moves that go along with them. She’s naps and guacamole and the sand between your toes. She’s arguments so convoluted you don’t even know what you’re arguing about. She’s always right, even when she’s not. She’s the smell of paint and saved clippings from home decorating magazines. She’s the feeling you get when you come home and suddenly everything is rearranged and artsy projects that take forever. She’s homemade salsa and cooking for an army so you always have leftovers. She’s her tears after spanking a child, once. She’s warm blankets and wearing long-johns from September to May. She’s never letting embarrassing stories die.

She’s a force to be reckoned with.

She's never going to change.

She's Coffee Ice Cream and Foreign Money She'll Never Spend

She's coffee ice cream and foreign money she'll never spend. She is the smile on her face when she's around people with obnoxious laughs. She's sad musicals and books where everyone you love dies. She's chocolate bars and the feeling you get when someone give you a drawing they made just for you. She's her love of freckles and nice jaw lines and peeling skin off when you pop a blister. She's the radio at two in the morning, because that's when they play the stuff from the early 2000s and you not-so-secretly know every word. She's new school supplies and making schedules you know you'll never follow. She's abandoned houses and floral patterns and clothes in antique stores your mom always drags you to. She's puns and accidental rhymes and reading people's tags on tumblr because that where they're the most honest. She's bad shark movies that no matter how much you want to watch, you never will.

She's all the little things that drive her sister crazy.

She enjoys every minute of it. 

She's Bad Puns and Cooking Experiments With Tofu

She's bad puns and cooking experiments with tofu. She's literary analysis and red correcting pens and the long dramatic setting descriptions in novels. She genuinely laughs at cheesy pick-up lines. She's the sound of cracking ice in lukewarm water and ghetto rap. She’s the overpowering smell of gasoline. She is polyester and that awful 70s avocado green color. She’s peanut butter, salami and pickle sandwiches, and you never figured out how that combination came to be but it works for her. She’s bad dancing and too-loud laughter and deep sea aquariums. She loves like dog nose prints on car windows - chaotic, all over the place and the only thing you can see. She is flowering cacti and rainbows and daisies and the Bowie knife she keeps in her car. And someday, she'll find someone to eat pancakes and meatballs for breakfast with her.

She is the most complex puzzle you've ever met.

She makes you want to spend all your time figuring her out. 

She Loves Him Like Sour Gummy Worms and Those Maneki-Neko Japanese Waving Cats

She loves him like sour gummy worms and those maneki-neko Japanese waving cats that stand guard in almost every Chinese restaurant. She loves him like warm scarves in the winter time and the freckles on their dog. Her love is flavored water and the crack in the spine of a new book. She’s baby socks and finding movie ticket stubs in your pocket months later. She loves him like the three musketeers love France. She’s her love of the color yellow and Batman and ninjas and useless trinkets bought for less than a dollar. She loves him like scented markers and magnetic note pads and organizational tools, not because she actually uses these things but because she loves the illusion of productivity. She’s beaches and mini sweet tarts and bookshelves. To her, he’s like cute baby animals and the noodle-shaped floaties and the intricate details of a Hayao Miyazaki movie.

She loves him with all the idiosyncrasies of herself.

She loves him with everything she is.

Jack Kerouac - 25 July 2013

I love the inspiration of the Beats

The free-spirited, pick-up-and-go idea

That is more a representation of longstanding notions

Of manhood in America,

Because men seem to be able to do whatever they want

I want what they had, I want to be them

And yet, I will never be Jack Kerouac

If for the only reason that I am a woman

I can’t hitch a ride

Without the expectation of a sexual favor

(Or worse)

Finding yourself in roadside diners and highways

And staying with strangers

Is too dangerous and improper

I know, I've tried

“Who knows what could have happened to you?”

“He could have raped you!”

“You could have died!”

But nothing happened and I'm okay

Yet people still berate me for it

Why was no one yelling at Jack?

All This Heartbreak - 9 July 2013

When you’re young

You’re supposed to feel invincible –

Not insignificant.

Yet, I feel so worthless

Just me and my insignificant dreams

I've heard it’s been said that dreams only die

When you stop chasing them

But what happens when you never actually start?

All because others make you doubt

Because they’ve been broken by their own lost dreams

Or are vindictive

They don’t care if they asphyxiate your dreams

And make it all seem so trivial

What a terrible thing to learn so young –

All this heartbreak and insecurity

Untitled For Now - 1 July 2013

Before you go and fall in love

Fall in love with my faults

I’m selfish

I’m a show-off

And I overcompensate for perceived flaws

But just this once

I want my happiness to not be seen as selfishness

My love to not be shown off ostentatiously

Or my laughter to not be seen as overcompensation

Because when I fall in love

I want you to see happiness, love and laughter

Where I see my fatal flaws

Alzheimer's - 13 June 2013

The worst part about getting older isn’t the wrinkles

Or the sagging skin

Or the creaky knees

Or the funny old people smell.

And if I learned one thing,

It's that watching those you love slowly disintegrate

In front of your very eyes

Kills you so much faster than time itself does.

He's dying one memory at a time.

And I’m terrified for the moment when my face

Isn’t one he recognizes anymore.

The worst part about getting older is knowing that my worst fear is inevitable. 

You Can't Name All The Ways In Which You Love Her

You can’t name all the ways in which you love her:

You love her slow when she just rolls out of bed

You love her fast just like her road rage on the interstate

You love her red like her face when she yells all angry

You love her blue when she’s snotty and crying into the covers of your bed

You love her cold because it means her God awful sweaters

You love her hot like the tea she drinks every morning

You love her silly in every picture she takes

You love her serious, bent over textbooks and full of concentration

You love her faraway, lost somewhere in her head

You love her close because it means she’s yours
You just love her all the time.

A Haiku About Mothers (I Met Him Once)

Don’t mention boys ever.

She said I need to date him.

"He sounds expensive."

Scars - 22 May 2013

The bad memories are like scars,

Closed up and healed

Yet slightly off-color.

As if I needed a physical reminder

That I’m no longer who I used to be;

I used to be so mad about you.

Now I'm just mad.

You'd Be Scabies - 22 May 2013

Loving you is a phantom itch

And no matter how hard I scratch,

You got under my skin.

If you were a disease, you’d be scabies.

Thanks to you

I've torn myself into pieces so small,

Clawing away at my skin

Anything to soothe the crawling underneath.

I've lost some things along the way

Like my smile

And my laugh

And my innocence

Replaced instead by

The gnawing, the biting, the corroding feeling

That could only be the after-taste of you.

And unlike you, scabies goes away in 2 to 3 weeks.

Sugar-Coated Love - 8 May 2013

She loves you like syrup;

Sticky, sweet and a bit clingy.

You find traces of her on your hands

And at the corners of your mouth

And you never expect her to stay.

But she does.

You love her like slow summer mornings;

Breakfast in bed and pancakes before noon.

She finds traces of you in the lumpy batter

And in the pools of syrup you can’t stand.

And you never expected to love her.

But you do.

Twenty-One - 19 May 2011

RUMOR HAS IT

That I'm sick of love

Don't want another LOVESONG

Sung in the heat of the moment

Only to have it simmer and cool

I'd rather SET FIRE TO THE RAIN

Than take my chances with you

Saving my bets for another day.

I'm TURNING TABLES on you now

DON'T YOU REMEMBER?

When I said that I'LL BE WAITING

I didn't mean for a prince

So sick of Don Juans

Because once he has me,

He'll try to TAKE IT ALL

And HE WON'T GO

Won't leave me alone

Until he finds himself

ROLLING IN THE DEEP

Deep within my sheets

So step off.

Cause my ONE AND ONLY

Isn't you or

SOMEONE LIKE YOU.

Gravity - 7 May 2013

He was like gravity,

Pulling me in and holding me close

Always making me come back for more

But in the end I’m just another one

Dragged into his pull

And un-tethered and unsure when he leaves

He was beautiful, manic

And never truly mine

He's Peppermint Tea You Steeped for Too Long and Rips in Your Favorite Jeans

He’s peppermint tea you steeped for too long and rips in your favorite jeans. He’s the butterscotch candy that just appears in the purses of little old ladies. He’s drive-thru diners and licking greasy fingers. He’s a melody stuck in your head but you never know the words. He’s the word on the tip of your tongue and the things you say without thinking. He’s anxiety and caution and angst. He’s the slightly pulpy last sip of lemonade when it’s a scorching hundred degrees. He’s the pennies in your pockets in exchange for a thought and the sprint to beat the parking meter. He’s cold coffee and sleepy conversations and the umbrella that breaks in the rain. He’s puddles and wet socks and the thump of your tennis shoes in the dryer. He’s leftover Easter candy, chalky and stale, and the stomachache you can’t seem to regret.  

He’s too much and never enough.

He’s killing you softly and you don’t even care. 

Bulgaria - 15 November 2012

I don't know much about Bulgaria,
Only Quidditch and Viktor Krum
And that the captial is Sofia.

Three hours spent together every week
Yet I don't know you.
You don't know me.

All I know is that you smell like
Cough drops and cigarettes
You're left handed
And your handwriting is worse than mine.
Yesterday, you told me you were cold
And you shut the window.

We've never had a real conversation
Only discussions about totalitarian regimes.

She's Curse Words and Eating Peanut Butter Straight from the Jar

She’s curse words and eating peanut butter straight from the jar. She’s rolling the windows down on a hot summer day. She’s the dirt underneath your fingernails and the sand castle you never finish. She’s everything you can’t say and the things you can’t admit. She’s the poetry you want to write and the stacks of unread books beside your bed. She’s sarcasm and the laugh you can’t hold back. She’s the snorts and the giggles and the cackles and the shakes. She’s burnt marshmallows and campfires and menthols. She’s the thunder when it rains and the earthworms coming out to play. She’s the cold feet in your bed and the pop-rocks feeling when she touches you. She’s the dragons in your breath on cold days and crackling ice.

She is everything you love.

She burns you alive and you don’t want her to stop. 

New Story Idea

Some people prefer last words; I prefer the first ones. By the time your last words are spoken, you’ve had enough time to plan them out, get them to roll perfectly off your tongue and out into the world. It’s the first ones that will surprise you, pop out and make a mess of things. We don’t have control over our first words, and that’s what makes them special.

When he said his first words to me, it was on a dreary Tuesday afternoon. “Well, aren’t you just the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” The man was mammoth. Tall in a way that made people stutter upon seeing him, and hair that reminded me of a dormouse, he was something else. All freckly and gawky, he wasn’t much to look at, excepting his height, of course. Then he smiled. He leaned over the counter, branding a flashing smile reminiscent of the old toothpaste commercials back when we had TV. I almost expected a sparkle to appear with a faint dinging sound.

I didn’t have time in my day to respond. So I didn’t. I still had a day’s worth of filing to do, not to mention my boss would’ve had my head if I fell behind again. Running around the store, I kept up with my work, not letting some behemoth of a man get in my way.

He spoke up two minutes later, grabbing my wrist as I rushed on past. “I do hate to be rude, but a girl like yourself should know that she really is beautiful.”

“I thought you were talking to the cat.”

His eyes flew wide, and his head tilted slightly to the right. “Don’t think too much of yourself, do you?” He asked, still holding on to my wrist.

I shrugged my wrist out of his grip. “No more or less than a normal person. It’s just a beautiful cat.”

I didn’t know that later, I would be dying to hear those first words from him again. 

Random Character Ideas

Savannah Edelman
Savannah Edelman knew a lot about very few things, but what she knew, she knew well. She knew that when people say they understand, they usually don’t. She knew that when people said they were sorry, it either wasn’t their fault or they didn’t mean it. But most importantly, she knew that the repulsive, pitiful thing that was Adam Moore’s beard had to go. 

Eddie McAllister
Eddie McAllister was no one’s bitch. Many had tried, but each ended up empty-handed, tail between their legs, and never brought up the subject again. She took the insult ‘bitch’ and made it hers; she owned that fucker, no questions asked. At one point, she even contemplated getting it tattooed, but she was drunk and the idea faded along with the alcohol in her bloodstream.

June McAllister

June McAllister didn’t speak often, but she made it count when she did. Her words were carefully chosen, usually loaded with barbs and could tear one’s soul into shreds. It’s not that she was rude; she spoke only to insult those that truly deserved to be insulted. It often surprised those around her when she did choose to speak, but considering who her sister is, it really shouldn’t be all that surprising. 

Adam Moore

There never was a boy more prone to hypochondria or exaggeration than Adam Moore. He thought very highly of himself and the only other thing he took seriously were his various ‘ailments’, and he expected nothing less than complete and utter compassion or commiseration. 

Jevon Walden

Jevon Walden was a weeper. Every little thing would move him to tears. He cried during TV Hallmark specials, infomercials (God forbid anything reminded him of Billy Mayes), a heartfelt lyric, anything. When he cried, he didn't care who saw - crying helped score him points with the ladies - and that's the way he wanted it.

Daisy Nolles

Daisy Nolles likes pretty things. She found nothing wrong with enjoying the simple pleasures in life, like a beautiful bouquet of flowers, or a good homemade apple pie. Some people would say she was lazy; she says she’s just enjoying the view. What view, people don’t really know, but Daisy likes to keep people guessing. 

Pairings

Savannah x Adam

Daisy x June

Jevon – ladies man

Eddie – independent woman who don’t need no man