| The best that I can do. |
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03:01pm 13/11/2011 |
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November 12thI waited eleven years. Praying to God to take it away, Or make it better. Praying for those three little words, Praying for no words at all. And you said it and you meant it and I did, too, But not how I would have, Ten years ago. Even ten months ago. And just like that, like lightning, The past was erased. The pain faded away. I was just a girl who once had problems, You were just a man who had them, too. I waited eleven years, Not caring the meaning behind the words, Just wanting to hear them at all. But we were more than words, I had convinced myself. I suppose I was wrong. And yes, I love you I love you I love you. But times have changed. So be my friend, My friend. You always were, and you always will be. And don’t worry about me anymore, Those complications mean nothing now. I’m moving on and up and out, And I think that you are, too. So for eleven years I waited, And I wished so hard, And you were the star I was wishing on. But now the sky is clear, The clouds have all gone away. I’ve started wishing on the sun, And it’s bringing everything to life. So be my friend, my friend. Don’t try to deny it... You know you always were.
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| Let the phone ring, let's go back to sleep. |
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12:11am 07/11/2011 |
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PandoraI’m hearing songs that are signs. I’m thinking strange thoughts. Can’t remember why I forgot, Blocked it out And drowned it. And these memories are on my peripheral... And I couldn’t understand. Why I’d rather forget. But then I recall... You were supposed to be on your way home by now. ValveThere has to be a release valve. There has to be a way to let it all out, The pressure that’s inside, The steam that builds up. Something I haven’t learned yet. Some trick Ive never tried. I feel it crushing me, Crashing against me. Threatening to wipe out the thing I love. Make me crazy... I’ve always been crazy. I need to pour out these emotions, Before the dam bursts open. Someone, anyone, Analyze this. I don’t want to be alone anymore. mood:  sad music: morning song-jewel |
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| "You say you're a big deal? Big deal. I've been a big deal ever since big wheels." |
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10:53pm 01/11/2011 |
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The Better TimesI’ve seen my future. I’ve seen it in the chocolate eyes That meet mine each morning. I’ve seen it in the quiet way He accepts everything about me. Even the bit about you. And I try so hard to push it away, But my radio keeps playing the same song, And I can hear our voices on TV. And the calendar marks birthdays and anniversaries, And those other days, In invisible ink. I like to think of you as now, Not then. Now by your rightful name, As opposed to the one we gave you. I see you as two separate people, And I suppose you are. I am just one, Just me, A girl who cannot reconcile One to the other. Though lately, I catch these glimpses: Snow on a pink window, Smiles on a first day, Tissues in your hand and tears on my face. I picture car rides and inside jokes and the view from Mount Royal. Those were the better times. I’d rather see metal wire and cafeteria tables and green pants Than remember the better times. So tell me, Oh wise one, Oh teacher, Tell me what that means. Tell me why I can’t forget it, Replace it with harder, colder times. I don’t want the better times. What I want is to look into the ocean and see earth. I’ve seen my future. I’d lost it for a bit, But it found me again. True love always finds you in the end. And I am so blessed, But so guilty, And that’s what it means. Guilty for crimes I did not commit, Guilty for living a better life, Guilty for the way I felt, Then and now and in between. And my guilt has built this prison of my memory, Where only here and now exists. So it seems these bars are breaking, Letting the better times back in. Does this sway my guilty conscious? My culpability for things I did not do? Is this what healing feels like? I dream of chocolate eyes and quiet ways, That lost future that I’ll never lose again. I do not dream of you... Except on those invisible days. mood:  nostalgic |
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| The truth of the matter is that if he had thrown out the Cheetos bag, I'd still be working there. |
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01:35pm 04/09/2011 |
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Dear MatthewIn the end, I must admit... I was surprised that you were surprised. Or perhaps you weren't. Perhaps you planned it all, a cheap way to burn a bridge. Burn this bridge. You fed my soul but not my bank account, I knew that from the start. No, it wasn't the money. I'm not bitter, mind you. I'm not angry for what you have done. If anything, there is pity... Sorrow for your failings. How lucky am I, To not need others to make me feel something. To be able to build something with the help of another. To be genuinely admired in a way you are not. To never need to put a fake smile on my face. Except, of course, those last few months with you... You put me on a back burner and expected me not to notice. You played me like a poker game and expected me to ante up. But I noticed and I folded and you threw it in my face, The matters of money, When it was all a matter of credit. It was me, Looking in the mirror one morning, And me, Crying myself to sleep at night. The promises you made never materialized. The efforts I made were never appreciated. We must have been invivble to each other. And maybe I should have been more tactful, For the sake of others if not for you. Shame on me! No, shame on YOU. Shame on you for treating me like an object, A servant to do your bidding. And no, it wasn't the money. It was your attitude. Your selfishness. Your inability to loosen the reigns. And that wll be your downfall, sir, Because karma always comes around again. So I'm going to take a break, And you keep on breaking backs in the name of art. I hope you find someone like me, Someone to tell you only what you want to hear, And keep the secrets of people who want nothing to do with you. We are all such good actors... Whether or not there's a stage to perform on. There's always going to be men who come to dinner. There's always going to be smoking guns. There's always going to be a devil in the house. But not for me, not anymore. God bless whomever you choose to man the ship in your figurative absence. I won't do it. I won't work for no credit or respect. Because no, it wasn't the money. It was you. mood:  rejuvenated music: psychokiller-talking heads |
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| Sometimes your knight in shining armor is just a dork in aluminum foil. |
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10:25pm 11/01/2011 |
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Cherry BlossomFallen flowers on a pond. Floating pretty before sinking, Drifting down, side to side, Hitting bottom. Settling in the sand, And lying still. Preserved for a short time, Then wilted, Decayed. EmbracesYou hold me like a little boy holds his mamas waist, Scared of a spider found in your shoe. You squeeze me like an orange, Hoping to catch the emotions that drip out. Hug me like you're trying to imbibe some part of me, And hanging on for dear life. At night, asleep, Your arm wanders over around my waist, And I hear you sigh as you drift deeper, Snuggle closer. I wonder if you sleep better when I'm there. BelovedI believe in time lines and schedules, But I would blow them away for you. Give up my expectations, Relinquish the hold of my neuroses, I could do that for you. You just be sweet, and work hard, Help me build something. That's all I could ask. Just keep loving me, and I'll return it. Keep saving me as I save you. We are better than this, My beloved, My deepest hope is to prove it to you. BubblesHiding under a blanket, And kissing, Touching, Breathing. A warm little bubble Occasionally punctured By cold attic air. I like the bubble, The hiding, Like the little forts of childhood Made from cardboard boxes. Hot, and dark, But safe. mood:  lonely |
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| Not any good. |
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11:16pm 03/11/2010 |
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QuestioningAnd what am I to do? I wait and worry and wonder, And one day I moved myself along, Back along that winding road, Back to when I was happiest, Without you. And I found happiness again. Oh, what was I to do? I am no fool for subtext, I know the meaning behind your words. And I am just as strong as I used to be, As brave as I used to be. But what was I to do? Close myself, hide away, wait forever? My heart stopped beating already, This is the jump start it needed. You wouldn’t want me lonely, You wouldn’t want to see me sad. Oh, but you can’t see me, can you? Oh, what was I to do? In the FutureI want to see a fortune teller, Ask her opinion of you. See, God, He don’t always answer, And I’m impatient, too. I’m waiting to see if you’ll let me fall Like you did the time before, When I couldn’t be your savior, And I wouldn’t be your whore. But time, it changes everything, And I am far more willing to listen. And no, I’m still not those things, But I’ll compromise my position. And I want to see a medium, To see if spirits see this last. I want to hold on to these little pieces Because our time always goes too fast. Oh, we’re still just as wild As the very first time we kissed But this difference of maturity Is the factor that we’d missed. So I want to see a psychic, Ask what she predicts. See if this puzzles missing pieces, Or if it’s the perfect fit. Because I’m not who I was anymore, And you’re not who you used to be. So I’m going to go ahead and fall now, And it’s up to you to catch me. mood:  bored |
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| 3 short ones |
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01:03am 03/09/2010 |
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LiarYou lie to me. I don’t mind that you do, Mind you. But you’re terrible at it. I see through it every time. It is in hiding that I, So small, so still, See la vie en rose. But you come, And you tear that away. Bring me mean reds And make me blue, And I hope someday I’ll be able to trust you. SpiralsI’m spiraling out of control, But this isn’t the kind of crazy I'm used to. I don’t have a pill for this, And I have no desire to stop. My hands do not reach out, Frantic and panicked, Grabbing for hold of something, Anything, To stop me, Hold me still. All they reach for is you. ErasersYour hand in my hand and Your lips on my lips and I thought I’d forgotten, Blotted it out like sunlight Behind heavy drapes, But no no no… Can you ever really erase it? Thin lines left by pencil, Flakes of pink on white paper, And still the impression remains. Where your hands rest, Where your lips kiss, Where your smile stays burned Into my skin. mood:  lonely music: carnival-natalie merchant |
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| Just two. |
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01:09am 14/08/2010 |
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DistractionsI am more than the sum of my parts But my parts are falling off, Arms and legs and head, To pieces. I keep dying my hair but I can’t whiten my teeth, And it’s true, You’re a distraction. A very good one… Because when I kiss you I don’t think about kissing anyone else. You’d think that easy, But you’d be wrong. I feel like I’m home already, Comfortable. But I worry… Comfort isn’t a good enough reason For me to keep kissing you. Should I keep you a distraction? Should I make you something more? I don’t know what I want Anymore than I did before… I wish you did. Just stay, if you want to. Just stay, and wait for me to come around. KatieThe woman behind the desk smiles, She, who knows me better than anyone. How strange. How peculiar. I’m not even sure of her last name. And yet, She sits, and listens. She laughs, And I know I’ve bewitched another. Why can’t I meet them before? Before I come knock knock knocking on their door, Looking for salvation or vindication? We would be such good friends. But that’s not how these cards were dealt, Instead I sit in a chair and face her, Tell her my life story, And wonder about hers. I would help, If she needed. She wouldn’t even have to pay me. mood:  pensive |
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| Lots. |
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01:45am 16/05/2010 |
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AllentownSitting on this city street Reminds me of New York in the summertime. Watching my goddaughter dangle From branches in Central Park, Chasing turtles and admiring the lilies that Float on water below my favorite angel. But this is my city, no longer hers. Now I wait for this work that feeds my soul, But not my stomach. Work that makes me whole, But leaves me broke. People moving out and on across the street, But nor far, A few block away. I wish I were moving Closer to the hustle and bustle of those still moments With her, in the park. Closer to the city that never sleeps, Just like me. LettersYou write, Say there’s something else on my mind, Something you knew I wanted to say. You see, When I write I find words come easy, Like old friends. My pen to paper never fails me, But oh, these words for you? I stumble. I trip and I fall. If you could just read it… And yet, I cannot write that letter. I write others, Happy things, some sad, But always hoping to make you smile When you see my handwriting. (Like I do for yours.) But I don’t fear poetry so I’ll try for this: I don’t deserve it. We share in this one thing- The worst day of my life is the same as yours. And I don’t deserve that to be true. You wonder what I don’t say. I don’t say that I love you, Because I don’t know if it’s true. I don’t say that it hurts, Because I don’t have a right to tell you. I don’t say I miss you, Though implied, Because I miss you less than I did before- Before you went and broke my heart- I know you know you broke my heart. But I stumble, I trip and fall, Unable to say all that aloud. The Playwrights ExcuseI dream in lights like switchboards, Cross faders and dimmers, Sound like stereo amplifiers, Sets and costumes, Scripts with blocking, Actors like pawns on a chessboard, Whole productions in my head at night. And then there is you. One passion bleeding for another, Cut open on the stage of my dreams. Strange, I can hide it all inside, These things I’m supposed to push away and forget. Conditioned to act as though you never existed. But not me, no, never My therapy is in these dreams, Laid out under lights, Worked through in three acts. I don’t worry what you think- If I forgave you for everything, You’ll forgive me for this. JaimeWhen I worry, Sure enough, Reminded- In three hour long conversations, And these never ending roads We’ve driven before. Kitchen floors, Cold linoleum, Warmed by laughter and fear of spiders. Accepted, unquestioned, Reassured at the sight of her. Growing always upward, Yet as silly as when we were chasing rabbits And sneaking cigarettes. Strangers Who Know MeTonight I saw a face, Old and weathered, Familiar. My heart hurt, From missing you. He turned to the woman beside him “This is her niece.” And she smiled a smile I’ve seen a thousand times, “It is so nice to meet you.” And my heart hurt, From missing you. I knew what she meant. Putting a face to the name so often heard, She looked at me how they all do. Showing how you loved me, Spoke of me, Made me your life. And my heart hurt, From missing you. SpatialMy mind does blank spaces, And sometimes you fill them Sometimes, remaining empty, I forget. I wonder which is better. Were you to love me, I’d want to shout it- Barbaric yawp. Rooftops. Ring the bell from the cathedral tower, Petition strangers on the street. But I can’t. So better then, that you shun me. Just let me waste, Silent, Mouth useless, Tongue still. Let me instead die lonely and quiet. Because, Lord knows… I couldn’t keep my mouth shut if you cared. mood:  bored |
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| Dueling. |
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09:49pm 06/02/2010 |
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The Crushy-CrushMy friend, She calls it the crushy-crush, I tell her I don’t smushy-smush, Defend my twiterpation always, Never be That Girl. It’s lies, I’m a born trier, Rest assured, a midnight crier, Every time that pretty passes, I feel my stomach swirl. I say It’s only just an organ, A functioning part of the bargain, That makes us human, Makes our blood run through. But lies! I do enjoy the feeling Of my heart’s furious dealings, When I see the one I want Coming out of the blue. So yes, Despite my best defenses I major in false pretenses And dream of when I finally say What’s really on my mind. But no, I’m shy at this thing only, And if I weren’t I’d be less lonely, But I guess I’ll try it out, So please, my dear, be kind. FamiliarityI know you better, Now that you’re so far away Than I did before, When you were close enough to touch. We slid easily into familiarity, And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised… We were too familiar to begin with. Years spent struggling Keeping up appearances, And who are we if not a couple of liars? I thought it would feel strange, But it doesn’t. My strangeness lies in other places, In old friends turned foes, In best friends who try so hard. I sit and I touch my pen to paper, Black ink on white, Little lines dividing The things I need to say to you. In response to your curly-q letters, How am I suppose to know what you mean? This familiarity is both a new suit, And the oldest sweater I own. mood:  bored music: dont panic-coldplay |
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