Tuesday, April 30, 2013

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. 

Friday, April 12, 2013

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. 

Microexpressions -- 7 February 2021

Maybe someday I'll be able to tell a story That doesn't have anything to do with me Or you But how can I ignore Your mouth full of e...