Old Flames

July’s proving to be the month of old flames–no matter how weird the story behind it.

I can’t quite bring myself to be poetic about it at two in the morning, a tad tipsy and a bushel confused. I once knew, but not really knew this boy; my friends and I code named him “strawberry” for reasons I’m still unsure of. As relationships of the strange nature that ours was went, and at the tender age of much too young; it was really one of my more interesting early experiments HAHAHA. So why write about this boy?

Well, by some stroke of luck, I saw him during a truancy session at a college I didn’t even go to– the thought? hot damn. It was just a few moments, but in those few I found myself fighting the urge to slap myself across the face, remembering the dumb shit a much younger me did. Life goes on, and we let sleeping giants lay.

But I guess now is the time to introduce dsj, yet another old (one-sided) flame that I had the opportunity to reconnect with. I remember the day I met him so clearly, down to what I was wearing. Not because I held on to that moment, but because the people around me never let me forget it. So into my classmate’s house I strolled, wearing the ugliest sweater and jeans, not expecting anything great to happen….. But then there it is: sophomore boys molded by god’s own hands. Or at least to my fifteen year old self.

Now dsj, he wasn’t anything special at first glance: I was a little taller than him, and he hid behind thick rimmed glasses. It was the moment he opened his mouth, though, that I was absolutely taken. Wit, sarcasm, and the ability to get me, the snark queen, to shut the fuck up. I was infuriated, embarrassed, and mystified. The usual awkward silences ensued and I had then convinced myself that it wasn’t worth it; but as he had to leave, me muttered something in a voice I can no longer recall, “It was really nice talking to you tonight.” And once again, I was floored. I got home, and the symbol of interest in our generation lay in wait: one friend request.

Needless to say, things didn’t quite turn out so great– which was completely my fault, by the way. I was dealing with being an insecure teenager and held on much too tight. I don’t know how it happened, but dsj and I, two years later, are suddenly reconnecting; and in a way that feels so much easier than before.

July’s posing to be interesting… I can’t wait to see what crazy shit is going to happen this time.

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Drafts

I have written you countless times

Illustrated your eyes divine

Painted you lips

with the kiss of a rose

Dotted your eyes

Given you a nose

Because the memory of you

fades into black

My senses dull slowly

and there’s no way back

out of your sea

and into the wild

why was it me

and my innermost child

That you caressed

black and blue and

left depressed to

start anew but

you took my hands

and my tongue

I have no chance

Voice gone

I spend my night

Counting

One

Two

Three

Give me hope

set me free.

I was writing this letter, something that I had been struggling with for a long time; because I’m complete shit at saying things straightforward. That is why I use metaphors, they make my messages so much more rose-colored than they actually are. There are more pressing letters to be written; however.

So.

Dear girl with her hair in a ponytail,

Where do I begin? I have gone over every topic with you– complete existentialist shit to the color of your toenail polish for prom. Where do I begin, and where do I end? Perhaps it is too early to think of an ending just yet, but I will try to be frank, just this once.

In the mornings I look out from the corner of my eye wondering, I wonder what goes through her mind, because it had only been recently when I realized that you were as unhappy as I was; yet here you were, holding it together. In the mornings when people fill spaces and spaces fill people with emptiness in our boring, monotonous, life; I find something to keep me going– sometimes she has her hair in a ponytail. There are no words and no descriptions that I could pin over your heart that would illustrate the kindness it has shown me, there are no words and no descriptions for me to whisper into the wind how grateful I am that you have stuck around for what I’m beginning to think are my darkest days so far.

But I digress, and strip my words from comfortable extravagance.

We may indeed have our differences, but I think that’s what has made things so interesting thus far. I frustrate you, you frustrate me; yet we haven’t decided to set each other alight just yet. You know me so well, perhaps better than anyone will ever know me; and yet…here you stand. Firsthand knowledge tells me that simply reminding you that you are worth so much more than you think will not help, but I’ll do it again anyway.

We’re all confused, and we’re all a little bit sad.

And perhaps you may not notice this, but there is something about you that I think draws people to you. Maybe it’s the quiet intelligence (often overshadowed by terrible, terrible Filipino), maybe it’s the open hands, and open heart. I’m droning on.

What I mean to say is, every good thing that happens— you deserve it. You have carried my cross with me, let me take yours. I don’t know how much this would mean to you, but you have earned my allegiance like I can pledge to no other.

So, if you ever need someone with a little bit of missing conscience to set someone on fire?

You have someone to call.

Post-script;

I’m sorry I’ve been this way, and there are not enough thank yous or nut bars in the world that can express my gratitude.

Dragon Boy

Full-lipped dragon boy

Claws hidden in old jeans

As he looks over the darkened room

And his stomach churns as

The world turns

Because he does not belong on the ground,

full lipped dragon boy.

Scales ruffled and windburnt

As he slips through the sea of souls

Between drunken clouds and floating people

There is no gravity in his body, full-lipped dragon boy.

Look into his eyes, he doesn’t belong in this time

His heart in a different place

And his mind thousands of years behind

And he doesn’t notice

Because every step he takes the world slows

Down to the beat of his little drummer heart

Translating to the bass drop as he

Drapes his ancient arms around tonight’s newborn

Fledgling

Taking her by the heartstrings

She can barely breathe fire but he hushes her

Promising a heat hotter than any breath

Full-lipped dragon boy, weaver of perfect lies and perfect dreams

She cannot look away from his eyes

Devoid of feeling, her mind reeling

Is there light at the end of this tunnel?

Fledgling child of the moon

Breath like ice, fingers trembling every

Single movement made, she loses herself in him

He takes her heart, his beats no longer

And leaves her to dry,

breathing in her wholeness

as she withers away before his eyes

his arms are ancient no longer,

full-lipped dragon boy

his claws safely hidden in old jeans.

descent

I’ve been scared a lot lately.

Scared of the life I had built around me, memories of dark nights supposedly infused with alcohol are much too clear to me, my being much too sober to look past the dark and dingy surroundings that I had once enjoyed. I’m afraid I’m losing myself in this mess, I’m afraid I had lost myself much too long ago, and now even the facade is beginning to fade. I’m terrified of the looks I used to long for, the carnal longing– I’m terrified that no one will ever see me as more than a piece of only slightly attractive meat, I’m terrified that in time, I’m going to lose everything I have pushed myself to gain. I’m terrified of college and what it’ll bring me. Whenever I think about it, all I see is gray and a dead end, a monotonous in and out and I’m terrified that I’ll be leaving this school that has housed me for ten years. I may not speak of it, but I’m terrified of leaving these people that I have come to consider family, all nineteen of them. I’m terrified that we will all forget each other amidst the changes in our lives and that while they were making themselves a raft to float upon I was busy trading in my words for alcohol and I will be the only one left. 

I’m terrified people will uncover that I am a pathological liar, that I can weave stories without flinching because I am much too proud to admit that I was wrong. I am afraid that the person I like doesn’t really like me, I am afraid of being alone. I am afraid that I will never be anyone’s first choice. I am afraid to fail my test tomorrow but I am also afraid to even try. I am supposed to be fearless, I am supposed to be able to stare death in the face and not move a millimeter….But I am scared.

I have worked months to get to where I am, but all I want to do is lock myself in my room and never come out, because I am afraid the world will find out who I truly am; because she is dangerously close to breaking the surface.

I pretend to be wilder than I am comfortable with, late nights make me uneasy. Large crowds of people I don’t know make me want to retreat; I get scared when I don’t have my parents around. I do not feel a connection to these people, they judge me and they scare me. Who am I trying to convince? I don’t even know anymore. I just want to rewind time, I just want to pretend none of these fuck ups ever happened. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I fucked up and I let it get this bad and I don’t know where I’m going and I’m losing my mind.

 

fictitious fragments

Your eyes

Reminded me of hospitals

Cold and clean and caustic

Hard against the

Feeling of life

Scratching through

My defenses

Breaking down my walls

And carving

Your name

Into the inner reaches

Of my misshapen

Skull

 

Your hands

Did not tremble like

Mine

They were steadfast,

Moving worlds within

My heart and

Stealing from me

The most private of thoughts

Only to hang me

To dry

At the end of the world

With nothing to

Identify me but remembrances

Of blue and purple

Stretched over bone

 

Your mouth

Relayed the message

Of angels hiding in

The spirits of tinted

Bottles and songs to save

A burning soul

That only the touch

Of your mouth

Could extinguish

I was a comet painting

The night sky

Asking you to notice me

Among the hundreds of others

Plummeting to the

Ground

All looking for

A wish to catch

Before we are

Forgotten forever

 

I can only imagine

What your heart

Is like

And what faces

Populate your kingdom

A million miles

From the reach of my

Fingertips