Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Sunday, July 23, 2006
and maybe, for the first time in their lives, they know love.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Monday, March 27, 2006
A Work in Progress
Or maybe not.
Maybe I'll just drive. I'll get that van and drive all around the country. I'll drive down south for the winter and north for the summer. If anyone asks my name I'll just smile and say "baby, you can call me anything you want." I'll woo men and make love to them when they're afraid of where their lives are going, for I can love a man because of his flaws, not despite them. Then, when I'm tired of them, I'll retire to my shadows of music and paint and words. I'll be that shy girl reading books in a bar and abandoning myself to the music-stripping down to my bra and panties and giving the boys a right good show. I'll still write that screenplay, but I'll sign it Joan of Arc instead.
Monday, February 20, 2006
I lie down to sleep and your heart chimes in and speaks to mine. It tells me to be patient, to be firm, to be beautiful and to wait.
It frightens me.
I do my best to tune it out and cry myself to sleep, but it's stll your name that's on my lips in the morning.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
~A poem I wrote that was started by a very drunk friend. She wrote the "Try!!! Crumble...crumble away." and the "You try to be so deep when you don't have to be." was a drunken response to a conversation I was having with another friend. I really liked what she said and developed it all into a thought.~
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Do you remember that time when we were at Sarah’s when she was upset over her boyfriend and as we left her house, I gave her a hug and said “I love you.” She didn’t know what to say and it made for an awkward moment. Do you remember what you said to me when we got into the car? You told me I liked to throw that word love around. You said I degraded its meaning. But it was you who said that you loved me, that I was your heart and that you couldn’t imagine spending the rest of your life without me. It was also you who, two weeks later, said you loved me, but was no longer in love with me. You were in love with her and that you didn’t want to hurt me, but you just had to follow your heart on that. But, you said I was your heart and I’m sure you’ve told her she was your heart as well. Maybe it is you who degrades the meaning of love. I know what it is when I say it. I meant it when I said I loved you for your ability to put your soul in my head through your words. I meant it when I said I loved you for your laughter while I threw snowballs at you in the car. I meant it when I said I loved you when you cried about missing your father, despite how he treated you and your mother. I meant it when I said I loved you for the way you kissed my ear the day I picked up the paintbrush for the first time. I meant it when I said I loved you by coming to hospital every day you were sick. I meant it when I said I love you for telling me I was right. Pain isn’t just black or blue. It’s bright orange, pale pink, ocean blue, deep plum purple and moves in ways that can frighten and inspire all in one breath. I meant it when I whispered I love you into your ear as you slipped away from me and out into the blue.
I don’t know exactly when it was that I stopped missing you. You left me here and there and allowed me to take my life back piece by piece. I’m still at home, living with my shadows, painting with my colors, planning my great escape. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but something tells me you already know how this will all end.