Shards -- 16 November 2015

Just because I see the stars in your eyes
And you glow like the sun

Doesn’t make the world revolve around you

Your voice may be melodic

And you look like the love child of the universe

I know that I can say lovely things

And I know how to turn a phrase

But never romanticize your lovers

It’s a long fall from the pedestal

And nothing hurts worse than the shards of your own poetry

Kissed into skin turn to broken promises in your mouth

These are the things I wish I learned sooner

Because if I did

I wouldn’t have shattered you

And left myself with scars

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts -- 11 May 2015

The wind was a thin whisper
Keeping life from spilling across the landscape
Birds fill the air above the cold canyon
Stray shafts of sunlight tint the world to a gold haze
You gather me close
Puffs of breath mingle in the small space between
Our skin cracks and sparks from the cold
Interlocked fingertips go numb
Holding hands is a natural hand-warmer
So I'm never letting you go
My jaw aches from chattering and you can't feel your face
You say you love me so much it hurts
Just show me where and I'll kiss it better

Literary Comparisons -- 7 March 2015

Meeting you is like having a dry mouth
It's uncomfortable and I know it's all my fault
That I've been lacking something
And you're the water that I never knew I needed.

Loving you is like being in a food coma
I know I'm overdoing it, but I'm so content
You are radiant and make me glow
I just want to sit around and think, "yes, this."

Missing you is like cutting your hair
And for weeks your hand stutters and falls
Because you remember something being there
But my hair will grow back and you'll still be gone.

You're the only person made of metaphors
And similes and other forms of literary comparison
You're the wildfire that tore through my world
And now even reading a book makes me ache. 

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.

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.

Snippet #39

“Ugh. Why, homework, why?” Jonáš moaned.

            I rolled my eyes. Always so dramatic. If he wasn’t so set on making movies, I would have suggested that he take up acting. “What do you have to do?”

            “I need to find out people’s opinions on what love is. Like, what the hell? Love just is, there’s nothing else to it.”

            “Oh for God’s sake, just ask people.”

            Jonáš sighed, “All I’m going to get is people quoting Haddaway’s ‘What Is Love’.”

            “You will not.” I went back to my reading.

            “Hey, Marek!” Jonáš screamed, hoping Marek would hear him in the kitchen.

            “What?”

            “What is love?”

            “OH BABY DON’T HURT ME, DON’T HURT ME, NO MORE.” Marek responded instantly, followed by a crash, the sound of breaking dishware, and a string of curses. Jonáš and I both closed our eyes and waited for clarification. “I’m okay, just knocked over the drying rack . . . and everything that was on it.”

            We both nodded, accepting the explanation, and went back to our original conversation.

            “Didn’t I tell you that’s how people would respond?” Jonáš looked at me, unsure if he should be proud he proved me wrong or exasperated at his homework assignment.

      “You’re just asking the wrong people. Ask Sophie, I’m sure she’ll have something you can use.

      Once Sophie walked into the apartment, Jonáš pounced. “Sophie - this is for homework - what is love?”

      She smirked. “Naturally, I’m assuming Marek started singing the song to you?”

      Jonáš nodded.

      “Love is. . .” Sophie paused, thinking, “Love is taking me as I am, but leaving me better than you found me.”