Craving longitudes.

Sitting in 332
I scrape my fingers across the rough edges of reality.
I point. I crawl. I burrow.

I wake up twenty years later...
or maybe only thirty-eight and I learn


it's the journey we're worried about, not the end point.

You make me radiate red orange yellow and grey

running
chair boats
using towels as blankets
hugs that go on forever
the sick heat of August
a reawakened curiosity about nature
romantic dinners under the rape light
snuggling up with a lover in front of a fireplace with hot cocoa
stuffed lambs
babies
curled trees
an authentic, artistic, and aesthetic life
cookie cutters
butter on every bite
all 1440 minutes in a day
the dark line of storm on the horizon growing wider and closer
cerulean blue
Roman dresses
empire waists
grape koolaid
a cathedral of trees
hidden paths lined with hibiscus
friendly stray cats
sleeping in the nude
hot showers
food art
meat pounders
painting
enjoying sweet juicy strawberries
listening to songs on repeat for days
expressionism
distortions in water
love letters
bold, exciting leaves
magnificent, rich colours
railroads
old, falling apart bridges and friends
boardwalks
long strolls through woods in the winter
jumping off of piers into ice cold water
the way the summer sun kisses your skin
making breakfast or brunch for someone you care for
nicknames
voluminous skirts
colourful exotic birds
living as a free spirit
caterpillars metamorphasizing into butterflies
waking up in the arms of someone you treasure
the way your stomach drops and anticipation rises
leaving good luck pennies for people to find
smiling
dancing
pearl earrings
buy one get one free
thrift shopping
sundresses
the way his rough skin feels against yours
facial hair
recognizing memories by smell
Calendars
Conversations with people I care for before I fall asleep
reeses pieces
Rilo Kiley
cast iron and brass beds
angel sleeves
fluffy pillows
ivory globes
medallion béarnaise
R.E.M. sleep
having an art stash
being quietly sexy
learning a musical instrument
riding through woods and on hillsides
the best-kept romantic secrets
sharing a dream
the greatest truths being the simplest
feeling lucky to be born a woman
a confidante
kitchen stools
cleaning out my emotional closet
horizons lasting farther than I can see
hay barrels in barren fields with blue skies and green trees in distance
used china
the feel of skin on skin
massages
keeping on nodding terms with the people we use to be
moonlit dancing
sand dunes
picnics
surprise visits
gnoming
horn rim glasses
“I’ll be better when I’m older.”
talking heart to heart
kept promises
outdoor cafes
turtlenecks
flaky powdered-sugar pastry squares called beignets
the book that made a difference
boxes of live daffodils throughout the room
marble notebooks
wading knee deep into leaves
painted turtles
planetariums
secrets
Sanskrit
pulse points
bonfire colours
leafing through boxes of photographs
the smell of clothes fresh from the drier
warm bodies in bed
connect-the-dot freckles
old favourite falling apart jeans
astrology
making up our own constellations
reading old warn out books and reliving the past readers’ memories
secret silences
walking barefoot through dewy grass
the way light hits the changing trees in Autumn so that the whole world looks as though it’s on fire
beautiful architecture
playing piano
weather vanes
gum trees
taking silly photos
being called sweetheart
talks with strangers
laying in the sun on chilly days
magic 8 balls
the way the snowflakes leave patterns on windows

It's early and I'm lying in bed. My blankets are twisted
like a catacomb around me. Each little fold in the rift a
different path I could take. Though there are no road
signs and no way for me to tell which path would make
me happy. And I'm sick of guessing.

I'm beginning to think that there are no right answers,
just as there are no correct morals. You cannot make
someone live the life you lead. It takes years to create
decay and to destroy your blood cells mixed in with mine
and I'm not sure I can wait any longer.

Now, I've just got to find a way to pass this drawn out time.

Mediocre people do extraordinary things all the time.

Low on fuel

My breath gets caught in my throat and my heartstrings rip
every time I run into someone new with your name. It's a trip
down memory lane I'm not quite willing to make yet.

College life is fair. I've taken up smoking again. I'm not sure I care
anymore. As things go on life brings the worst out of me. I chalk
this up to past mistakes and lessons learned. Anymore, sitting in
a group of people reminds me of better days. These people aren't
quite the same but I know my old friends are just around the corner.
If only I could turn fast enough.

Sometimes I try trading hugs for cigarettes. Really though, I just want
a hug. I need to feel cared about. I know I don't mean an ounce to
anyone here and I'm learning to deal with it.

Dependability is something that's not innate. I can't depend upon
myself let alone anyone else.

I'm counting these days like bond money.

Are you still there?

Lately I've been so busy with swallowing my insecurities I forget about you, which is nice.
I don't have you pounding around on the insides of my brains.

I'm not sure if I like this new development.
I miss you. I want to take you in my arms. I'm so lonely but I'm starting to realize I don't need anyone but myself. Your ship has left harbor and sailed out.
There's no use waiting for something that's not going to come. So I cut these ties and I shred those memories.

RIP

;0001

Here I am at a cross roads again and I have no choice but to move on. I am tattered, betrayed, hurt and worn out. The world has turned it's back on me and everyone has walked out of my life. But this, I am used to.

I'm running out of people to count on. And though quantity is not what really matters, it helps when you eliminate yourself as one of those people. Sometimes you need just a little help, a little insight. Maybe some comfort. When you're this alone, it's hard not to lose your mind. I'm not about to let that happen, however. I've been lost like that before, and I'm surprised I made it out.

My heart strings are tied in knots. I care, I feel, I miss, I don't. I'm nowhere near happy, but I am not sad. You could say I'm disappointed in everyone that ever meant something to me. These people that once made me strong, now only make me weak.

So I make a choice. I go this way, and I'm stranded. Nothing changes or revolves into something new. I'm stuck. But that way, there's a change. New people, new feelings, new trust. I wish I had someone to direct me. Something, maybe. Anything.

I guess, like everyone has done to me, I just have to walk away and see where I lead myself.