LH

sometimes

when i take too many showers

i feel empty.

like i've scrubbed away

everything that could possibly matter.

all my nerves

and my ability to feel.

but i like smelling nice.

Clothes Pinned Cranes

it seems that everyone dies on a twentieth.

if you know what i mean here,

then you know me better than

i expected anyone to.

Impromptu

stand up. now. dance. now. no, seriously. i'm not kidding. you there, reading this. whatever brought you here, whatever caused you to read this-the silly ramblings of a silly girl in her silly house with her silly plaid pajama bottoms and the silly hoodie that rightfully shouldn't even belong to her, listening to her silly music, typing on her silly computer-whatever brought you to all this silliness; think about it for a moment. do you know me? are we good friends? were we once best friends? do we even talk anymore? have we ever talked? have we ever met? how did we meet? were we ever really honest with each other when we did talk? did you just stumble across this blog by chance? by serendipity? what brought you here? think about it. now: forget it. no, seriously. do it. forget what connects us. forget what we had, forget what we were or are to each other. think for a moment about what we could be. think of all the possibilities. we could be married. we could be lovers. we could be best friends. we could be enemies. a year from now we may never speak again. we could be inseparable. we could be coworkers. we could be in a band together. i could be your biggest fan. you could install my cable. think of what we could be. now: forget it. now: don't be afraid. don't consider the terrors of the future or the traumas of the past. for once in your overwrought, overthought life, don't think. at all. do what is there. sing. scream. SCREAM. turn up the music. dance on the tables. they can take it. they can deal. be you. be uninhibited, naturally, truly you. wash off your makeup, take out your ponytail, go barefoot. let go of the world before it lets go of you.

Growing Into Our Lives (And the People In Them)

once upon a time there was a girl, and this girl had a sweater. it was her favourite thing in the world to wear. it was oversized and very warm. the sleeves fell past her fingertips, the hem hung halfway to her knees and the neck was all stretched out from one too many chilly days spent with her cold nose tucked into it.

she and the sweater were practically inseparable. she wore it to the park, she wore it out to eat, she wore it to her friend's house to watch movies and she wore it to church on Sundays. she even wore it to bed a couple of times.

but after a while the girl got older and started thinking about other clothes. though she swore that she still loved her sweater, she began trying other ensembles on for size. she donned peasant tops, band tee shirts, jackets, mini-skirts, khakis and shorts. she even borrowed a pair of her friend's skinny jeans without asking, hoping to return them before the friend noticed (the friend did notice, however, and was furious with the girl for months). but none of these new clothes felt right to her.

then, one night, the girl was out shopping when she saw it: the dress. the dress was perfect in every way. it was just the right shade of green to complement her eyes and the style reflected her personality exactly. the girl went into the store and tried it on to find that the garment looked even better on her than it had on the hanger. it fit her like a glove; even the saleswomen couldn't quite speak when they saw how extraordinary the girl looked. the dress made her feel beautiful. but when she looked at the price tag, her soaring heart sank. there was no way she could afford something like this. the girl walked out of the store, determined that she would find a way to purchase the dress.

every day for a month the girl walked by the store and looked at the dress while the sweater she once loved so much sat at the back of her closet with the rest of her winter clothes, forgotten. she had been saving up as much money as she could and by the end of the month she finally had enough. she walked into the store excitedly, but the dress was not in its normal place. she rushed over to the saleswoman, panicked, and was informed that the dress had been sold just that morning. heartbroken, the girl walked dejectedly back to her apartment and collapsed into bed.

for weeks she didn't bother getting dressed nicely. she rarely tried new outfits anymore--when she did she just ended up getting depressed, because neither the cute t-shirt her cousin had brought her back from a trip to Russia, nor the bright yellow sunglasses she'd picked up on her way home from school one day could live up to the dress. the 70s style skirt she'd picked up at a local thrift store just made her feel cheap. even a cute, worn-in hoodie she'd had for a few years couldn't lift her spirits.

summer turned into fall and the days got shorter and colder. the girl, at the insistence of her caring sister and a few worried friends, packed away the sunglasses that none of them had really liked to begin with (they were too large and not particularly flattering) and began to bring our her cold weather clothing. during this task she stumbled across her favourite old sweater. pleasantly surprised, she pulled it on over her t-shirt and instantly melted a little in its warmth. she'd grown a bit since the last time she'd worn it, so it fit her better than it ever had before. and even though it wasn't as big on her as before, it still carried the same comfort it always had. she curled up on the couch in her new-old sweater, and for the first time in ages didn't think about the dress that she'd thought was made just for her, but the sweater that just needed some growing into.

truth 4

me escribo por lo tanto estoy.

Confusion Answered

I didn't tear down the walls,

though I know to you it must seem that way.

They were brought down by an outside force

and it broke my heart

to not be able to tell you why or how.

I didn't abandon you

even if it felt that way.

The theatre is not empty,

your words do not go unheard,

I swear.

Searching for the opportune moment

to breach the silence

offer up explanations.

And here

we

go...

truth 3

we're more fearful than we let on.

truth 2

the signs are all screaming, "DEAD END, THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU ARE MEANT TO BE."

my head says differently.

truth 1

i can't tell you how much i still hate you sometimes, because i'm afraid i'll accidentally end up telling you about how much i still love you.

No Time Like The Present

look around,

your life is scattered on the floor

with the randomness

of a blind man's rummage sale.

c'mon now,

offer me up

some rock n roll salvation

from circumstance.

the finest day i ever had

was when tomorrow never came,

unfortunately, the finest

has never been mine.

turn around.

see where you've been?

i've been there too

and i'm not going back.

walk forward with me.

i'm becoming to them

what you were to me.

quotations never quite live up to themselves;

do you live up to yourself?

you.

actually.

broke.

my.

heart.

not in a romantic, break-up,

lalalala, we were in love,

oh-so-much-teen-angst

way.

but in the worst way possible.

betrayal.

i understand, i'm not like you.

you're a writer, i'm a poet;

almost like distant cousins-

poets are kind of like people.

but still.

words i was never meant to see,

but that you can never take back.

it's terrible

when unexpected obstacles come up,

isn't it?

dante was right on when he placed people like you.

and i'm not sure if i can

ever forgive you for that.

but i'll try anyway.

not for your sake,

for mine.

for the first time in my life

i'm not all about you.

for the last time in my life,

it's about you.

WotD

Legerdemain

meaning:

1. Sleight of hand.

2. A display of skill, trickery, or artful deception.

A Day of Thanks

weeks. weeks? weeks? weeks!

seven days (times what?) aren't enough.

weeks can't contain the things

that i still have to say to you.

weeks don't begin to cover

the amount of time i'll need

to hold your hand.

weeks can't fathom the things

we haven't learned yet.

but weeks are all we have

if we're lucky.

Blush!

I've been given an award! Yay! Plural yay! Yays! 'Twas bestowed upon me by one healingstones of Stoneweaver; a blog that really caught my eye, where different types of stones and things of that nature are talked about. (I'm really not doing the blog justice-you should check it out yourself). She also makes some pretty incredible jewelry out of the materials that she talks about and writes a mean haiku. So here's to you, healingstones.

So here's the deal. The award has to be passed on to other people. But here are the rules first:

* Mention the blog that gave it to you and comment on their blog to let them know you have posted your award.

* Share 6 values that are important to you and 6 things you do not support. Grant the prize to 6 people.

Onward!

1. Loyalty

2. Creation

3. Joy

4. Originality

5. Relationships-of all sorts; family, friends, partners, anyone I've built a relationship with in my life

6. Sincerity

1. intolerance

2. hate

3. betrayal

4. vanity

5. negative outlooks

6. indifference

Okay. Six people that I think should recieve this award. This should be sufficiently difficult. But I'll do my best. In no particular order:

1. Calm Before Every Storm

2. Throwing Chairs

3. Red Eyes

4. 100 Acorns

5. Amazed By Grace

6. Creations of Christ

All of them are utilizing their blogs in their own way; expressing themselves through poetry, photographs, their beliefs and their opinions. Each deserve the award for the creativity they've poured into their respective blogs. Check them out!

Think About It

i'm so

disquieted.

calm my shaking hands, be still, my heart.

my spastic, ADD inflicted cardio-treasure,

you're gonna have a nervous breakdown

if you keep going at this rate.

so breathe, just breathe,

the merry-go-round's not going as quickly as you think it is;

the music's not so loud.

shhh.

be quiet.

do you hear it?

inspiration move me brightly;

reality slap me across the face.

i should have slapped you when i had the chance.

ah, melodrama,

so easy to slip back there, isn't it?

such a pretty word,

how bad can it be?

my palindrome friend,

remind me why i need to say no.

i know i don't want this.

i swear i don't want this.

there's a reason not to want this,

but i forgot.

sweet-talking, well-meaning, huge-smiling,

liar?

since when?

user, abuser, loser,

you sicken me

even as i want more.

isn't that always the case, though?

the things we hate most are the things we want most.

and the things we hate most about other people

are the things we hate most about

ourselves.

what does that say about me?

and what does it say about you that

you don't hate those same things in me?

or do you?

who knows?

stupid liar.

match made in heaven.

match made in hell--

the eighth circle, to be exact,

in the tenth bolgia.

we can make our promises,

but look where we are.

we'll just end up like the rest-

they tear each other apart at every turn.

go ahead, say you're above it all,

you've lied before.

Don't Make Me 2

don't make me a mistake, he said.

HAH.

he made himself a mistake.

and everybody-even him-warned her

of the end that was sure to come.

but when masochism meets second

(third, fourth, fifth)

chances,

mistakes get made

and hearts get stomped on.

'i should've known better'-

-the refrain of the hopelessly devoted,

and she's exactly where she began

(where she always ends up)

wondering why she even bothered

trying to move again.

WotD

Lacuna

meaning:

1. A blank space; a missing part; a gap.

2. A small opening, depression, or cavity in an anatomical structure.