I love the remarkable way that his mouth turns up into a strangely adorable smile when I do something very right. I'm literally, "music to his ears." I shouldn't seek out his validation but I must admit that at times I do. I feel I may never impress him...no, I feel I may never hear about how and if I've impressed him. It's strange to think it's always been that way, but will he never wish to impress me? Does he think he already does impress me enough? Well, I've made it known throughout the years. Has he wished to impress me though? The thought makes me feel warm.
I'm impressed with his ambition to pursue a connection with me. Yet, when it's repeatedly brought up and can't help but subject my body to turn numb. I wanted to be comatose. I wanted to perform metamorphosis to show I'm already there, "surprise everyone, I'm not really my age...I'm older." But such thoughts are the very reason why I'm trapped; I overtly try to prove myself. Declaring myself so openly gets exhausting when outsiders disregard it or pass it off as adolescent nonsense. There's no space for me to break away from "adolescent nonsense." Anyways, the thought that was so numbing is the period of waiting...does this mean we'll break apart? How exactly would that happen? Would he still be in love or find another?
If two people love eachother enough...they won't need anyone else, even when they're technically "single."
I'm in it for the long haul.
I get weak thinking that he can so easily let me go.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Just Love Her Loudly
Marie Taylor Marx
smoked her third cigarette in the backyard where there's too much open space and not enough silence.
While she discretely lit it, she reminisced of days of running around from house to house, playing capture the flag and hide and go seek. She remembers that these games never lasted as long as she wished they did. And remembers laughing at jokes she didn't quite yet understand; she thinks it sad now. The boys had lists and she wanted to be accepted in the circle but age made strict boundaries. Anyways, those lists were all ridiculous rankings of the females the boys of the street had known. Maybe if they spent less time writing down names of pretty girls and instead mustered the courage to speak to them face to face, maybe they would get somewhere.
Marie slid the pack in the pocket of her coat and breathed in and out the unwanted mix of air and smoke.
She brought it to her mouth again and again, contemplating its purpose to her; then, contemplating her purpose too. She laughed thinking of how just the other night, when she was choking through her second, when the lighter didn't work...
"Are you kidding me? You are a lighter, you have one purpose, and one purpose only. That purpose is to produce a flame. Humour me: light up my life."
She was hysterical, Marie is enthusiastic about identifying irony in everyday life and isn't afraid to speak out about it. So, "light up my life" she thought was a good kicker, after all because a cigarette's sole purpose is to shorten lives; the darkening of lungs. She thought of her pretty lungs.
"If they're so pretty, if i'm so pretty than why doesn't he care?"
He is like the lighter. He lights her up, and she's the cigarette, soothing and suave, romantic even and when she's down to the filter in demand...
All that is left is the staleness of the smell of smoke in her hair, in her clothes, in her being.
She is rotten with thoughts that wrack her brain causing hemorrhages; the soreness of hope being crushed.
Wait, but isn't he the cigarette too?
Could she ever really understand his thinking...there's a goal.
Her downfall is her unfailing attraction to handsomely grown beta men who are actually boys who are actually just drones.
And she'll believe this is so until proved wrong.
Will he prove her wrong?
To do so is quite easy...
Just be there. Just show up. Just love her loudly. Just be there.
smoked her third cigarette in the backyard where there's too much open space and not enough silence.
While she discretely lit it, she reminisced of days of running around from house to house, playing capture the flag and hide and go seek. She remembers that these games never lasted as long as she wished they did. And remembers laughing at jokes she didn't quite yet understand; she thinks it sad now. The boys had lists and she wanted to be accepted in the circle but age made strict boundaries. Anyways, those lists were all ridiculous rankings of the females the boys of the street had known. Maybe if they spent less time writing down names of pretty girls and instead mustered the courage to speak to them face to face, maybe they would get somewhere.
Marie slid the pack in the pocket of her coat and breathed in and out the unwanted mix of air and smoke.
She brought it to her mouth again and again, contemplating its purpose to her; then, contemplating her purpose too. She laughed thinking of how just the other night, when she was choking through her second, when the lighter didn't work...
"Are you kidding me? You are a lighter, you have one purpose, and one purpose only. That purpose is to produce a flame. Humour me: light up my life."
She was hysterical, Marie is enthusiastic about identifying irony in everyday life and isn't afraid to speak out about it. So, "light up my life" she thought was a good kicker, after all because a cigarette's sole purpose is to shorten lives; the darkening of lungs. She thought of her pretty lungs.
"If they're so pretty, if i'm so pretty than why doesn't he care?"
He is like the lighter. He lights her up, and she's the cigarette, soothing and suave, romantic even and when she's down to the filter in demand...
All that is left is the staleness of the smell of smoke in her hair, in her clothes, in her being.
She is rotten with thoughts that wrack her brain causing hemorrhages; the soreness of hope being crushed.
Wait, but isn't he the cigarette too?
Could she ever really understand his thinking...there's a goal.
Her downfall is her unfailing attraction to handsomely grown beta men who are actually boys who are actually just drones.
And she'll believe this is so until proved wrong.
Will he prove her wrong?
To do so is quite easy...
Just be there. Just show up. Just love her loudly. Just be there.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Apathy
You have no feelings
or you restrain them, internalized, supressed.
Whatever.
But she takes it personally,
is she not worthy of being involved in that part of you?
You say you come far out and exposed
but she still feels she needs you close
Closer to throwing out words more aggressively than your kisses
Let the words--be them natured of anger or passion--roll off your sweet tongue
that you already use so well in silence, silence save the gentle moans of satisfaction
And the soundtrack of supposed "Love"--lip smacking, rustling of skin beneath clothing,
underneath clothing.
So throw those words around aggressively, filling her atmosphere with words
Beautiful words, or pointless words that bear more meaning from being spilt from your lips,
In the full-frame capture of your exotic face and deep eyes.
Sinkhole deep eyes, she fears them. Is it really fear or an insight:
to look into deep eyes and still see emptiness, may result in disppointment.
to be continued...
or you restrain them, internalized, supressed.
Whatever.
But she takes it personally,
is she not worthy of being involved in that part of you?
You say you come far out and exposed
but she still feels she needs you close
Closer to throwing out words more aggressively than your kisses
Let the words--be them natured of anger or passion--roll off your sweet tongue
that you already use so well in silence, silence save the gentle moans of satisfaction
And the soundtrack of supposed "Love"--lip smacking, rustling of skin beneath clothing,
underneath clothing.
So throw those words around aggressively, filling her atmosphere with words
Beautiful words, or pointless words that bear more meaning from being spilt from your lips,
In the full-frame capture of your exotic face and deep eyes.
Sinkhole deep eyes, she fears them. Is it really fear or an insight:
to look into deep eyes and still see emptiness, may result in disppointment.
to be continued...
Sunday, January 6, 2013
PLEASE COMMENT
After all these years on this blog...I kind of really wish I would get some feedback on my writing...
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Two Cupids Discuss About Serendipity
I don't know exactly how this works.
If they were to break off...and how would they break off? No one knows.
Well, the reason why they break off is an important factor, because if one of them cheated on another--which would be horrible--then the opposite person would be filled with anger towards that person. Maybe he's going on tour for a long period of time and that will be the "beautiful goodbye"
Okay, so suppose the break-off was a neutral one of mutual decision, would they carry on seeing other people while they are still in love with eachother? Would they over that time...fall out of love? And fall in love with other people? The unknown answers can only be revealed in time with however way these events ensue. There is no promise they'll get back together. There is hope though.
If they were to break off...and how would they break off? No one knows.
Well, the reason why they break off is an important factor, because if one of them cheated on another--which would be horrible--then the opposite person would be filled with anger towards that person. Maybe he's going on tour for a long period of time and that will be the "beautiful goodbye"
Okay, so suppose the break-off was a neutral one of mutual decision, would they carry on seeing other people while they are still in love with eachother? Would they over that time...fall out of love? And fall in love with other people? The unknown answers can only be revealed in time with however way these events ensue. There is no promise they'll get back together. There is hope though.
Snap
But I feel good when I look good.
Why can't that just be okay?
It doesn't mean I have to be associated with superficial, obsessive teenage girls who take makeup and clothes and general appearance so seriously that they have to make a mask before they let anyone see them. No one gets to see their real faces.
No. I don't do that...I just want to look beautiful to myself most of the time. Sure I spend a lot of time prepping my appearance before leaving the house but that's just hygenic and formal, in my opinion.
So to look good is to feel good, as a result I sound idealistic, materialistic, appearance-obsessed and just plain sad.
This body will soon morph into an elastic-y, tight, firm and lean, slim beach goddess-like bod.
I lied, but it'll come close.
Why can't that just be okay?
It doesn't mean I have to be associated with superficial, obsessive teenage girls who take makeup and clothes and general appearance so seriously that they have to make a mask before they let anyone see them. No one gets to see their real faces.
No. I don't do that...I just want to look beautiful to myself most of the time. Sure I spend a lot of time prepping my appearance before leaving the house but that's just hygenic and formal, in my opinion.
So to look good is to feel good, as a result I sound idealistic, materialistic, appearance-obsessed and just plain sad.
This body will soon morph into an elastic-y, tight, firm and lean, slim beach goddess-like bod.
I lied, but it'll come close.
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