Fireworks

It was breathtaking, the silence between us. The way he looked at me, brown eyes searching for something familiar in my eyes. He wanted to know that I still felt the same. He wanted to make sure that being there with me was okay. I didn’t know what I should reflect in my eyes. I was finding it hard to breathe. The way he looked at me was suffocating.

I could hear distant explosions in the sky; fireworks. I broke his gaze and looked up. I heard him shift next to me and sigh. He must think I’m over it. That I don’t feel the same. He must think I’m through waiting for him. I feel him grab my hand, but I don’t look down again. I’m too busy looking at the rainbow of explosions in the sky. I don’t know how to tell him I’m still waiting.

I can’t even see the stars tonight, the fireworks are overshadowing them. Explosions of fire and gas that are closer than the stars twinkling beyond this world. He squeezes my hand tight, but I still don’t look down. The fireworks have captured my gaze. I sat there on the blanket next to him, hypnotized by the beauty of the explosions. I don’t think he knows how I feel.

His touch shoots electricity through my body as he moves closer, and I feel my heart race, confused by the sudden, unwelcome, feeling. I try to keep myself composed, but in the darkness my cool expression falters and it takes all I have not to look at him. I don’t know how to tell him how I feel. The words don’t come. There really aren’t words to describe this.

More fireworks go off. I hear all the familiar noises. The siren sound of the ascent, the explosion and the shower of sparks that fall back to the earth, but I’m not really watching anymore. I’m just feeling now. My heart races, my body tingles, his breath against my face. He’s still watching, waiting for his moment.

I’m not ready to see him yet. I’m not ready to feel the familiar ache in my heart. The ache I feel when I want him to hold me. When I’m dying to feel his arms around me. I don’t think he knows that I cry at night, my body shaking, waiting for him. He doesn’t know that I’m still waiting.

His eyes are still glued to my face, his breath hitting against my cheek in waves. I imagine the ocean, the sound of the waves hitting the shore. He’s my ocean and I’m waiting for him to pull me under. I want to drown in this sea. I’m not ready to see him yet.

He says my name softly, practically begging for my attention. I bite my lip, trying to focus on the fireworks and not drowning in this ocean of pain and suffering and maybe even love. I don’t know why I’m still waiting for something I never thought would happen. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe after tonight I’ll wake up and I wont see him ever again.

That’s a chance I’m willing to take as I turn to meet his eyes. They’re full of the love I always imagined that he had for me. The sort of feelings I only thought he felt for me in my dreams. I’m hit by a wave of emotions. I’m still struggling to breathe, drowning in the middle of this sea.

He catches sight of my eyes, watching them with curiosity, probing for the answers I would never be able to tell him with my words. I wanted him to kiss me, to smother me with his lips, to crush all the air out of my body until all I could feel was him on top of me. I wanted it so bad I could almost taste his mouth. I don’t think he knew.

The fireworks were winding down. The explosions were getting farther apart as the people setting them off ran out. I felt a sense of urgency. Was time running out for us too? I stared at him intently, not sure what he was reading in my eyes, but I hoped he knew what I wanted.

His eyes lingered on mine for only a few moments more before settling on my lips, asking his silent question. The one I had already said yes to. Did he even have to ask? He should know by now that he makes my heart race, he crushes the air out of my lungs, he makes it impossible for me to feel normal. He should know by now that I’m completely, totally, irrevocably in love with him. Nothing could change that. Not even the years of heartbreak I had to endure to get to this point.

He leans forward as more fireworks go off overhead and I stop breathing, waiting for him to claim my lips, to make me slip away into this ocean. More fireworks go off while I’m waiting, my eyes slipping closed, my lips parting slightly. I can feel my heart aching. I’ve waited so long for this moment.

It seemed like forever before he was finally there, kissing me softly, crushing the rest of the air out of my lungs. I try not to sob as he takes my face into his hands, his whole body pressing against mine. I need this, I’ve wanted this for so long. I can feel the sting of tears and I pull away, my eyes watering. He stares at me, his brown eyes questioning as the tears fall.

He tells me he’s sorry, he tells me he didn’t mean it. He doesn’t know that’s not what I want to hear. He thinks he did something wrong. He wants to fix it. He wants to be friends. I don’t want any of that. He begs me to forgive him, but I don’t know if I can. What he’s apologizing for isn’t want I’m crying about.

I tell him I’m happy, I tell him to stop saying he’s sorry for the things he did right. He looks confused, but I don’t want to explain it anymore. I wipe away my tears and I kiss him, long and hard. He kisses me back, cradling my face, caressing my neck, fingers trailing down my shoulders.

I feel like my heart is going to stop beating, like I’m going to die right here in his arms. And I think, that if I did I would be happy. If I died here with his lips against mine and the fireworks dying overhead, I wouldn’t regret one moment.

I’m not even afraid.

Nonsense

This isn’t technically a poem, but it’s close to it.

It was a simple task on record, but off it was easily the hardest thing she could ever hope to accomplish.  

In his arms, things were safe, warm, delicate but on the outside of his embrace she was finding life hard to cope with.  On the outside there were no gentle kisses to her lips, cheek and forehead to reassure her of her safety.  There was no strong arms to hold her up from hitting rock bottom.  And there was certainly no peaceful slumber.

She could argue that he didn’t understand what he did to her.  She could almost be certain that he didn’t know of the delicate emotions that erupted with every twitch of his fingers and every flutter of his eyelashes against her cheek.  And, of course, she knew without a doubt that he didn’t know about the sensations she felt when he pressed his bare flesh against hers, or nuzzled her neck.

In fact, she wasn’t even quite sure herself.  The only word previously used to describe these intense emotions was “butterflies”.  The word seemed so broad now.  The butterflies referred to a feeling in your chest or stomach, not a feeling that washed over your skin in waves, making you feel warm, safe and wanted.

Outside of his arms was where she currently resided, head resting on her knees, eyes staring sideways at the blue wall in her darkened room.  One hour being both the exact amount of time he had been gone and the exact amount of time she slept the previous evening (or morning, but who’s counting).  

She was tired, her mind ceased making sense and she still tingled from the whisper of his touch (strong arms previously wrapped around her).  Her body ached to both be with him and to drift off into a peaceful slumber, where her memories of those few beautiful (however, fleeting) moments they shared earlier in the day would be on repeat (and not drenched in blue around the edges).

Alas, neither ache would subside as neither want would come true.

Peace was written on the walls, on her sheets, on her blanket, on her clothes, but never in her mind.  Slumber was painted where it was able to be seen, but not to be acted out.  Love was at the fore front of her mind, body still holding sweet whispers of caresses.  

Dear Mr. Sandman,
the slumber never calms
the waking beast
changing their heart
to let someone in

but perhaps, it’s misery.

my 11 secrets

There are.  
Eleven things.  
I want to write.  
To 11 people.
  
You think you know me?

{.001}

You make me feel like crap.  You make me feel so horrible about where I am in life, I don’t even know how to love you anymore.  You tell me that without me the “house stays clean” and you call me “lazy” and you tell me that I’ll “never be anything”.  

She–your daughter–tells me that you just say that because you believe in me and you want you challenge me to be the best that I can be.  Is she serious?  I don’t think she is because all you ever say to me is negative.  

I don’t think you know how you make me feel when you say things like that.  Not to mention you’re always hostile and living with you makes me feel sick.  You make me feel disgusted with humanity.  I can’t even trust anyone else!  I can’t!  You’ve made everything in my life horrible and I can’t even…

hate you.

{.002}

You’re my world and I love what you’ve done to me.  Though, you tell me I’m a doormat, and maybe I am, but please…can’t you just trust and support me?  I love you so much I can’t even stand it.  I don’t regret anything I’ve done with you and if we don’t last, I doubt I ever will.  I don’t even think I can move on if you decided you didn’t want me anymore.

I’m in awe of you.  Don’t you know that, I’m in awe of you!  You make me feel more than anyone ever could.  

Sometimes, when you ask me if all I want you for is what you can do for me, it hurts.  I love you.  I’d be just as happy just being with you and never being allowed to ask you for something again as I am right now.  You’re so perfect for me, if I ever lost you I don’t think I’d be able to go on.

{.003}

There’s a lot of things we used to be and the fact that we aren’t anymore bugs me.  It’s hard to talk to you because I’m not social and neither are you.  You get depressed easily and it’s really hard for me to carry on a conversation.  Especially since I can only talk about things you’re interested in.  So, I’m really sorry, but that’s why we never talk.

{.004}

You don’t do anything and think you can treat us all like crap.  You use my friends and my boyfriend.  You’re so stupid you’ve tried to kill yourself repeatedly over the same dumb girl.  When are you going to get it?

I wish you’d stop hugging me.  I don’t even want to touch you anymore because I don’t like you.  I really don’t like you.  At all.  Neither do my friends.  They wish you’d stop asking them for money and rides.

But we’re all afraid of you.

{.005}

For the longest time I thought you didn’t like me.  But you’re one of the coolest–if I can say this–moms I know.  I’d love for you to be my mom, but I get the impression that you might have a bit of a temper.  Probably not as bad as my mother’s (who none of us can even stand to be around, no matter how much we love her), but I’m too meek to be yelled at anymore.  However, I love you nonetheless.  You tell the best stories and I wish I got to see you more.

{.006}

You.  Make.  Me.  Sick.  And you need to back off.  You need to just back the heck off.  Find your own.

{.007}

Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?  Close your mouth and look away before I get up and leave.  You’re being rude by looking at me all the time.  I don’t know why you’re even staring over here.  Seriously?  Just stop and go about your business.  I hope you leave soon, or I swear I’m going to call campus security on you.

{.008}

I don’t like you.  I’ve never liked you.  I use you for gossip because you’re the only person that talks to me about the things I want to hear.  Then you talk about me behind my back.

You told everyone I was bi.  You told everyone who I liked.

And it all backfired because I still get more than you.

So thanks.

{.009}

You’re a mess.  I wish you’d stop turning to drugs to get rid of it.  I knew this is what would happen.  So why don’t you just suck it up and live like the rest of us?  

Because.  You’re.  Weak.

{.010}

You’re so fake.  I wish everyone could see you the way I see you.

{.011}

We don’t have any of the same interests anymore.  I wish you’d acknowledge that and let me go.


these are my 11
secrets about eleven secret
people

I want to say good-bye.

& it kills me every time

So tired.  I can’t even function, think straight.  But…but…I’ll be up all night in tears again.  You don’t know what you do to me.

Nothing makes sense, nothing makes sense anymore.  It’s not right when you’re gone.  It just isn’t.  I stay up and I try not to call you.  I try to wait until you call me, but I’m so addicted to your voice that it’s so hard for me to even imagine being without it.

You.  You on the other hand.  You don’t feel anything do you?  You don’t understand why I’d need you so much.  Or how much it hurts to only be permitted to need you for one day a week.

It gets harder every time.  Especially when that phone rings and I know you have to disappear.  

It kills me.  It kills me when you hang up, sigh and stare at me with those big brown eyes.  And I know.  I just know where it’s going.

And you get up and you leave, tell me you have to and if it were my choice.  You can’t make promises anymore.  And I can’t take the broken hearts.  Littered with the knowledge of paper, the title of “pure” and the quantity of “six”.

You kill me.  And you don’t even know it.

the way i want this to be always

It’s been so long, I’d forgotten how good it felt to rest against you like this.  I know we’re both crying now, but I can’t help thinking how amazing it feels to have my face resting against your chest and your arm around me.  

I can’t explain it, but I want to be here with you…like this forever.  It’s comforting to feel this sensation of belonging.  Your hand brushes over my hair and down my back and I’ve never felt so much love for you.

The way things are right now, with you smiling down at me, kissing the top of my head and lacing your free hand with the one I placed on your chest…I wouldn’t trade this for the world.  I feel the sting of tears being brought forth and a smile coming to my lips.  

My thoughts immediately shift to a song from the opera we watched together and I feel the tears roll down from my eyes, down my cheeks and over my lips.  

I never knew I’d love you so much, but I do.

Thanthos

It wasn’t the kind of place you’d expect to see someone like her. She was the type you’d see in the underground poetry clubs bearing her emo soul out before an audience that felt much of the same thing. 

She had short black hair that curled under her chin and bangs that covered her right eye, a pale complexion, red-painted lips, and she wore a lot of black eyeliner. She was one of those goth-emo types that seemed to attract his attention. However, this girl was different from his normal infatuations. She didn’t seem like a tormented soul at all as she lay out in a field of wild flowers, but he knew better.

He positioned himself in a sitting position on top of a large rock on the far end of the field and watched her as she lay there beneath the night sky, a soft breeze moving the flowers around her body. 

“Hey,” she said, without even opening her eyes. He didn’t answer her salutation, instead he slid from the rock and approached her. 

“Desdemona?” He asked, even though he already knew it was her.

“Yes,” she answered, eyes still closed. He knelt next to her and stared at her pale face, red lips, and charcoal painted eyes.

“I am Thanthos,” he answered, “I have a request.”

“And if I refuse?” she questioned, obviously knowing what the michevious spirit was up to.

“You know full well,” he began, “what will happen if you refuse me.”

“I do,” she answered. He traced over her cheek with black painted nails as she lay completely still. 

Weird

“You’ll never make me feel the way he does.”
“You chose me first.”
“I didn’t choose you.”
“You wanted me first.”
“I didn’t want you.”
“You’re lying.”
“I was interested. I didn’t want you. I didn’t choose you.”
“You were interested in me first.”
“I didn’t know him then.”
“You would’ve still liked me.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“You’re ruining my relationship.”
“That isn’t my fault.”
“You want it to be.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s cruel.”
“You’re cruel.”
“You can’t honestly think that.”
“I do.”
“I see the way you look at me.”
“You see what you want to see.”
“Maybe I do.”
“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you have feelings for him.”
“You’ll never make me feel the way he does.”
“So you still have feelings for me?”
“Ones that are dying.”
“You still want me?”
“I never wanted you.”
“You’re still interested in me?”
“I don’t want to be.”
“But you are.”
“Not like I am with him.”
“More or less?”
“Less.”
“Why?”
“You’ll never make me feel the way he does.”
“You’ve said that three times.”
“It’s true.”
“Whatever.”
“I have to go.”
“Whatever.”
“Bye.”
“Later.”

s/h/a/m/e

S

I think the be/t part
i/ laying here awake
exhau/ted
body /haking
and knowing
you’re nothing
but a/hamed of me 

H

I t/ink a lot
about the symmetry
of your face
and t/e way your
/air curls just right
around your ears 

A

/nother d/y goes by
/nd /nother /nd /nother
until /ll th/t’s left is bones
ground to dust
–/nd my love for you 

M

The first day of fall
and all I want to do
is hold your hand. 

E

I had almost forgott/n
about /vrything
until my phon/ lit up
and you took th/ tim/ to
/xplain /vrything I alr/ady
kn/w.