12.22.09
12.22.09 – 12.24
so simple a tune could so simply pluck the tender heart strings
which she thought had laid dormant through, at least, the night
she wants to go back so badly, but the immediate remembrance that he won’t be there when everyone else returns rudely wrenches her from stark anticipation, and she can’t help but feel an embedded broiling beneath her surface – (resentment at him for leaving? anger towards herself for thinking about and missing him so goddamn much) – grudgingly yet with tacit love.
she tries to be patient; fails, and she spends her days watching time tick slowly, achingly away with each twitch of the second hand of her clock.
12.21.09
12.21.09 – 13.07
everlasting dread, locked in the pit of my feeble heart, pounds softly with the thoughts of you leaving. of not touching you, kissing you. of not having your touch upon my skin…
the threat of tears never rises above my throat
but becomes chains draped across my chest and shoulders
i feel less bad about crying when i had that night (you remember),
knowing now that i feel the way i do now
incessant dread at the thought of you gone
that carries me from waking in the morning into the darker hours of the night
whence my thoughts of you turn into vague and murky dreams
which fail to make me miss you, or make me fear not seeing you again, any less
12.20.09
12.20.09 – 13.55
traces and retraces of thought, doubts, endless unclarities become lost in the flawless purity of white winter. yet in its flawlessness, harbored are wavering hopes and yet untainted dreams of love not yet failed and happiness not yet unachieved.
music pierces her like an arrow and sets disarrayed wildfire throughout her body, replacing all existed feeling, and turns her body to water – lost in its own amorphousness.
12.08.09
12.08.09 – 3.40
just a few weeks ago, the emotions that ran through the veins and arteries of my heart simmered with such assured certainty that i was certain of what i wanted. now, just a few weeks later, i fall even farther into the dark abyss and oblivion of complete and utter pathetically useless doubt.
even she realizes the swift change of her emotions, induced by lines as simple as those from a romance novel. the incessant frustration that seems never to leave her for more than a few days – a week, at the most – inevitably returns to torment her execrable soul.
should i really be trying so hard to sabotage something that hasn’t even truly begun? why am i trying so hard to sabotage something that hasn’t even begun? and why am i doing it so well?!
wretchedly, she questions the truth in what she feels and questions the honesty in what she thinks or thought she desired. her constant and tireless inquiries claw painfully and futilely at the layers and layers of endless confusion, which never cease to confine her.
11.20.09
11.20.09 – 7.37
i haven’t stopped thinking about you, and i’ve been missing you insanely ever since you’ve left…
a giant conglomerate mess of emotion captures my heart in a strained frenzy; my heart searches for the answers that are only hidden behind the veil of time, yet my mind swarms impatiently in a pool of mass confusion and uncertainty.
11.17.09
11.17.09 – 3.32
the strings that tie a girl to so many men can only ruin her and break her heart.
the strings that tie a girl to any man will only ruin her and break her heart. and she becomes tired of men and tired of love, because all they bring is frustration and utterly unnecessary drama.
“goodnight. goodbye. leave.” is all she wants to say and all she wants of him.
goodnight.
goodbye.
leave.
11.15.09
11.15.09 – 3.42
in the past three months lie feelings lost in music and lyrics, feelings filled with heartache and confusion, in which arise questions which may never find answers.
i lie here, tired and exhausted, with the past three months of lost writings on my mind. writing too personal to share, too fresh to reveal but perhaps with time will become platonic enough to unveil if i will ever retrieve them again.
for the first time in five years, i am alone and less disturbed than i have ever been used to feeling, but i am alone, and i don’t know how long it will be until that realization dissuades me from my ultimately achieved peace.
the cold air trickles in from the cracked open window, filling the room with a chill against my skin, which seeps into the body deeper than i would have expected; a cold air that clears the mind and delicately balances the uneasy warmth from which comes exhaustion and the unintentional deprivation of sleep and clarity.
09.16.09
9.16.09 -13.26
distant memories submerge as distinct bodied figures,
and recent memories appear even clearer – unwanted, distracting, intrusive
my heart dips my veins and arteries into a dark pool of stinging reminiscence,
and present reality blurs into a vision of past ambitions and passions -
long since discarded and disregarded.
pools and ponds and rivers of reverie taper at her feet and soak the tips of her fingers and hair. drowned images resurface, reflecting the turmoil hidden behind her feigned placidity
as her sullen white dress soaks up all that she wished her mind had forgotten.
09.14.09
9.14.09 – 10.13
post summer thunderstorm
traffic lights leave red angry streaks down rain-covered hillside streets
as a faded cabin hides behind a row of sunflowers -
sullen and weighed down by water -
peering curiously through the stalks and blanketing leaves
hints of autumn litter the roadside
as trees of summer-spring relinquish their first subtle layers
to playful and prying wind
.written early August
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
sound of starlight and distant planes embody the body of night
the moon gleams loudly down
onto streetlights and silhouettes
a voice echoes for miles
carries passions, ambitions, and thoughts
to lovers yet undiscovered
in night, endless cacophony engulf highways and sidewalks,
hidden dirt roads fawned over by trees
and no one is unaware of it and no one escapes it
all of it is everything; everything is inside it
.written late August
06.30.09
6.30.09 – 14.27
the wind casts a daunting movement in the trees
one which causes them to speak amongst themselves
in the way that trees often do.
in slow, fluid murmurs
and timelessly wavering gestures and bows.
forests peer up, scowling,
at the clouds that glide past like ballroom dancers overhead
envious of their ceaseless and reckless adventures.
