The Last Poem Regarding You

I wish you were a bad B movie that I could’ve just turned off.

Truth be told, even if you were, I would’ve still stuck around

For a while longer.

Everyone waits for the ending.

There are no truths when we are in love

Trust me I’ve searched.

Tell me,

What were your plans Oh dear lover?

Be honest.

I promise you I won’t cry,

I promise.

I won’t be mad that you didn’t love me,

I won’t be mad that I allowed myself to feel for you,

It’s my fault really.

I let my guard down and boy was there a stampede waiting to run me over.

I promised you I wouldn’t cry,

I promise you that I will try not to.

You should know,

I never completely discarded the pieces of my heart you broke.

Pitiful I know,

They lead a path somewhere,

Hopefully somewhere that has solace waiting for the broken hearted.

For people like me.

I promised you I wouldn’t cry.

.. I guess that makes us both liars.

The Power of Insecurity

My first day living in New York

Boxes are barely unpacked and I am standing

Center floor and wide eyed in love

With the cable man.

He’s no celebrity like I’ve seen strutting down the streets of the Upper East Side

But I am miles away from my boring southern state

And boy is he handsome.

After the pleasantries of my origin story, he looks at me with his left brow lifted in disbelief

And with a thick urban accent asks, “And you left there for Brooklyn?”

I smile my awkward, sheltered suburban girl smile,

And mentally regret jumping on the first apartment listing for New york on craigslist.

He smiles at me and after finishing the job asks for my number.

I can barely hold in my excitement, and race around my apartment hugging myself harder than one probably should.

I wonder if this is the how all the pretty girls feel when they are asked out.

But even I don’t have time to daydream

Because just as my being fills with joy,

 The dark cloud of my insecurities hover over me.

This time, they skip the formalities and get straight to the point.

“He’s not going to call you.”

“You’re  just a joke.”

And like the last time,

And every time before the last,

I listen.

I agree.

I doubt.

And the negativity I feel begins seeping through my pores the moment I receive my long awaited call

For every compliment he gives, I have a reason he’s clearly blind.

And soon our pleasant and promising conversation turns into the one reason he won’t be calling me again.

He likes girls with confidence,

And sadly I have too many daddy issues unresolved.

He could’ve been the one.

Just like all the rest.

Mom.

Mom,

I tried to call you last night.

I nearly had a heart attack, as I frantically searched every book in our house for a number with your name,

And it wasn’t until the sun slept and the moon awakened that I realized,

Heavens number isn’t in the yellow pages,

And your old cell number is disconnected too,

And no matter how many times I call the operator ,

She wont connect me to “My mommy.”

So I sat there..

Staring at the four walls that have transformed from my sanctuary to my hell

Listening to the old church songs that no longer lift my spirit

Because how can songs lift a spirit that is in pieces?

Mom,

Your scent is no longer in your clothes

And those pictures of you and I smiling as if there is no more happiness in the world to attain

Have faded

And every object that you once touched so freely,

Has been packed into boxes with no name,

The sound from the tape sealing them shut made me cry,

The movers came and no matter how much I pleaded and begged,

They still would not resist in taking all I had left of you away

So mom,

I grabbed my jacket.

Running fast as I could and ignoring the pain that my deep breaths caused.

Ignoring the stares of school aged children sitting with their mothers and fathers,

I ran faster than I ever have.

Because mom ,

They are taking all that’s left of you in small brown boxes to the ends of the earth

And so to the ends of the earth I will travel to be with you,

Mom.

                                                                                               

I Want To Be In Love

I want to be in love...again
For real this time.
I mean no bullshit or holding shit back .
I mean,
I really want to be in love.
I want to get those butterflies in my stomach,
And have those thoughts of passionate love making after a perfect date.
I want to smile at something I remember you saying days ago.
I want to be okay with wearing my favorite socks with the holes in them around you,
because you like them just as much I do.
I want to be in love...
I want to have those one and two month anniversaries celebrating the first time you made me smile at something silly,
And hold hands while waiting in line for a movie.
I want to smile more times than I cry.
And I want to know that you’re ok with me not being stitched together perfectly at the seams.
I want to be in love with someone who wants to
be with me just as much as i want to be with them.
It is love that I will forever be in pursuit of.
 
                                                   

Empty Spaces

Our space seems so empty.
Filled with nothing except two cups of chilled coffee.
Mine with all the fixings...complicated even,
And yours black...straight forward and unchanged.
No aromas float intertwining into one,
Those days have been long since forgotten.
And the heat that made us jump from a mere touch?
...well its no longer there.
there's nothing fascinating about us
anymore.
I no longer love you .
Not because I no longer love you,
But because you no longer love me.
And well...you won’t know the extent of my pain if I don't equal the playing field.
Our space seems so empty,
And yet its filled with everything I’ve ever felt for you.
All those “I love you’s” and “You complete me’s”,
Crowd the air like a gang of clouds right before a storm.
Mesmerizing even.
And yet you don’t get it
you never did I suppose.
you never loved me.
And you never will know how much I wish you did.

Kids Of Summer (Unfinished)

Our days were spent as if there wasn’t a care in the world

And for a short while, there wasn’t.

The beach was our haven

And our rented summer house was a place where

If we imagined it,

It was attainable.

But that was the dream they sold us.

Come for a visit

And maybe even stay a while

The ocean’s out back

And every picture you post of the “good life” will make you the envy of your friends.

It’s the good life they said.

And it was the good life that we were searching for.

But that was the dream that they sold us,

And the dream?
The dream is what we wanted.

In The Mornings

In the mornings,

Right before the busyness of life begins,

Past lovers of the night hold hands.

They revel in the freedom of the brisk air,

And marvel at the sparkles in the sky.

They kiss passionately with the biggest stars watching them.

Time is slowed.

Breathing is heavy.

Love is real.

It is in the mornings,

Right before the busyness of life begins,

That I believe in Love the most

First Impressions

It was at the movies
on a day with no intentions that we met.
He was standing under the overcast with no pretenses,
Dressed with no one but himself in mind.
Inhaling the drag of his cigarette,
He was a God among men. 
And I was seeking redemption.
There was a pull between us.
The kind that you only see between star crossed lovers in the movies.
Lustful and intense.
Passionate and engaging
I was hooked.
Smiling non-chalantly in a world I thought wasnt anyones but my own.
He smiled back.
And for a moments time,
The jaded girl who was cynical about love
didn't exist.
Our eyes were locked and we could only see the versions of ourselves that hadn't yet been broken.
We were no longer spitting images of people our parents wanted to forget,
Instead,
we were the finishing touches of a maserpiece.
The last pieces to the puzzle.

Sunday Thoughts

Its on Sundays when I feel like a sinner the most.
I wake up a day late and a dollar short every time.
I wonder if God will forgive me?
Not because I repent, 
but because he knows my heart.
Its always the heart that seems to give us all away.
I never thought my carefree living
would be fueled by my running from guilty past transgressions.
I need God to know me.
Not just the gory parts.
I need him to know the girl that my mother didn't have to pray for.  
Is that even possible?