some kinda love

to the humans still reading blogs, thanks. 

he's surrounded by rain,

it consistently falls around him and I consistently fall into him;

it's always been that way.

we've never held hands 

let alone stolen a kiss,

but we've danced;

and that's kind of like holding hands anyways. 

he did say he loved me,

but he only said it once. 

twice would've wounded me,

three would've killed me.

and frankly a fourth would've healed me. 

but the road was long 

and the directions were far too obscure.

and now he's gone.

706 miles,

far 

too 

gone. 

I've written so many unsent letters

because I write novels 

and he writes sentences,

so why bother anymore?

and I can't believe I still write about him,

because he was only a one-time-I-love-you,

and I deserved more than just a couple words. 

but like I said, 

the rain consistently falls around him,

and I consistently fall into him;

some kinda love, isn't it?

code blue

pitter-patter

drip-drop

listening to the rain like listening to his heartbeat;

uneven but still alive.

I didn't know his head ached or his bones ached 

but I knew his eyes were red,

and empty glass bottles cut his fingers every once in a while.

pitter-patter

drip-drop

arms tired like his eyes

and his knuckles swollen blue,

Mother Nature cried for him

and he cried for him too;

alone and eyes still red, 

he drank from the glass bottles

and to the sky he went.

pitter-patter,

drip-drop.

the sounds of tears

her tears

their tears

all falling for him;

the glass bottles empty

and a bullet to his throat,

a cut finger and a simple note:

"my bones, 

my heart, 

they ached too much,

I love you, I'm sorry

I lost my earthly crutch"

pitter-patter

drip-drop.

a flat line and a muted buzz,

code blue.

time of death: twelve fourty two. 

3 years

tonight, I miss you

after 2 months of of holding it in

i let myself miss you. 

when you left I tried to shut you out

because 2 years is a long time to miss someone you've loved for the past 3.

tonight I read your letters, 

black words on white paper,

ink minimally smudged;

and my heart broke. 

it broke in the I-love-you-so-much type of way, because you admitted to caring,

you admitted to having a heart,

you admitted to the capability of love;

and your finally admitted to missing me back, 

something I've been waiting to hear for 3 years.

it was closure, but it was an open path

and that's why tonight,

I miss you;

because after 3 years or waiting,

you finally miss me too.

poem sketches

couldn't think of something to draw, so I went ahead and snagged a few lines from my favorite poems I've written and made them into some sketches. 

missing someone I shouldn't miss

first things first, he was probably never mine,

and I was never his, hers or theirs

because I only met him 5 days ago and 5 days means 'too fast'

too fast for his heart or too fast for hers, but our definition of too fast was just right.

it was enough to get attached 

it was enough to sing love songs and it was enough to let hearts get jittery

but I still feel like I can't miss you

I'm ineligible

but I know I'm perfectly capable

and I think you'd at least give me that, 

because when you sang the line "I've fallen quite hard over you" you sang into my eyes

and you smiled

because in that moment I think you became capable too

and we both became vulnerable.

it was bike rides and random

"I love you to deaths"

because words like that tasted like sugar on our tongues.

the way you talked about God made me feel like home,

and your voice always made my heart weak.

but surely, that was just for that moment because frankly,

no one like you would ever miss me

and unfortunately those 5 days were probably our last.

and that is why I am heartbreakingly ineligible, 

I'm not supposed to miss you

but I will anyways, 

and I think I'll eventually stop

but for now I'll let my heart break a little more

because those 5 days were worth the pain and vulnerability.

lake days

it's something about a mountain breeze and pine trees,

lake days and sun rays;

they make our brains think and our hearts beat

and our lips dry

but that's not anything you couldn't fix.

blue skies like your eyes,

not even the clouds could fog my vision because all I needed to see was you.

and we both know fireworks weren't just in the sky that night,

they were the days spent next to you,

my bravest days. 

they were laughs around the fire and endless boat rides and card games and 29 mosquito bites.

they were your hands and awkward day ones. 

they were bad comebacks and surprise attacks and the way our voices harmonized.

they were us,

unexpected and out of range, 

but realer than anything.

so here's to summer and cabins on the lake and you,

thanks for being so sweet.

six (6)

he left 6 months ago, 

and he said he'd 

miss me, but I 

think the ink

grew dry

and so

did

his

heart

because 

it's been 6 

months and blank 

pages seem all too familiar.

I can't feel his touch on my skin anymore; my heart rate is

slowing and my chest

is failing to rise, 

and my throat

it is slowly

but surely

choking.

it's been 6

months

honey, 

and you probably 

should've bought

more ink.

that's all I'm asking

he told me it was harmless

he told me it was okay

he told me it wouldn't kill him 

he told me not to worry 

but I worried

and I worry

because tonight I found clear capsules and white powder

and last week I saw eye drops

and last month he tested negative

but I don't understand that little minus sign and he doesn't understand God anymore;

church is so foreign,

heaven forbid he remembers the day when his older brother sacrificed his life for him.

and sometimes he laughs at my belief and at my agony;

the pain is so sharp I think it makes the cuts in my heart a little deeper with every breath.

it's like that metal between his teeth and the girl under his lips are more important than the sister who held him when he was born 

and the mother who gave him butterfly kisses 

and the father who taught him to drive when he was only 6. 

we are eternity, she is temporary

and drugs kill eternity.

drugs kill eternity

drugs freaking kill eternity and my eyes, they are wet with anger and my head can only take so much 

so please god make him stop 

and please God make him better.

I promise I've tried,

my faith wasn't strong enough and frankly all of which I had for him is on the tail end.

he's drowning, I'm drowning

and everyone around us is still breathing;

so please God, please.

you were worth it

 this poem inspired me really hard core, but in a different way

thanks Jess.

you were worth my poetry,

you always were.

they wondered why but only I saw what was good in someone like you.

those brown eyes

yes, they've made headlines

but it was more than that;

it was the way you looked at me and the way I could look back and feel,

the way I could see clearer in your eyes and how reality could go away with just a simple gaze;

those dark eyelashes that I'd loved even before I loved you.

it was how your hands felt;

I didn't mind they felt tough. 

they were working hands and solid hands 

they were loyal hands;

hands that held mine and hands that pushed me away 

but they were still your hands,

and that was good enough for me.

it was your voice;

rough but mellow

stern but sweet.

it was kind and used only for good,

and I remember how at one time it was only for me. 

my ears, they rang

but the feeling of your lips brushing on my ear was worth the pain.

they don't see you as I do

and that's why they think I'm wasting my time typing and erasing and heart breaking

but babe,

they don't know you. 

you are worth my poetry,

you always will be.

still

it's always around 1:30am when it hits me the hardest;

sometimes it's the fact that tomorrow I will hate 7:30am but mostly that gut wrenching smell seeping through the walls.

it's in his clothes and in my bathroom and in my room; 

hell, I can't even use my favorite Chapstick anymore because the smell of it makes me physically ill.

I guess I should be thanking God that it's not green anymore, but it hurts just as bad.

my heart still aches and breaks and my eyes are watered down

but my lips, they quiver more

they frown more

and they taste bitter

bitter like cookie dough without sugar 

bitter like his eyes and his laugh when I ask him to stop

bitter like the strawberry flavored Chapstick that my nose inspects and my tongue rejects

bitter like a broken heart trying to remember when and where some pieces went missing. 

but honey 7:30am comes early tomorrow and my eyes are weak and

my head aches.

maybe tomorrow I'll try harder beat 1:30am

at least before then the picture of us 5 & 3 sitting on my windowsill 

is still precious

and that sweet little boy is still innocent.

sorry, me again

hi. I think I have a few more words in me that I wanted to share about high school.

5:45am on August 21, 2012 

perfect make up, curled hair, freshly waxed eyebrows and bright pink skinny jeans;

I was ready by 6:45 even though my ride didn't come until 7:20 and I was worried my hair would go flat. 

6:45am today "15 more minutes" turned into 30

it was raining and my black jeans seemed to fit best, and one coat of mascara and pink Chapstick seemed suitable.

it was my last day of high school and being on time wasn't on the agenda anyways.

May of '13 all A's and my hair still curled in those perfect waves. my hair was to the middle of my back and red lipstick was too scary to wear to school. my brother still came to church and I wrote poetry on my history notes.

November '14 I chopped 8 inches off and my revlon black cherry lipstick was my new favorite; purple but almost black. 

I was also 40 pounds lighter and wore a state championship ring on my middle finger. my brother hadn't been to church in months and I emailed Nelson and begged him to let me into CW2 for 2 weeks.

January '14 he went from just a crush to a love in one night. his mom called me beautiful, his sister called me stunning, his dad said, "welcome to the family" and all he was brave enough to do was let our knees touch. but that was okay.

soon to be June he's promised to finally teach me to drive stick shift and three nights ago he held my hand for the first time in 7 months. He said "I missed you" and the way he pulled me into dance that rainy night was a reminder of how much I loved him.

how much has changed in these past few years of high school,

for the better

for the worst sometimes

in favor and out of favor

for the my own good

and for my own bad

it's changed. 

and I couldn't be more grateful for the heartbreaks, the crowded halls, my horrible chemistry teacher, Chip, Rhonda, Mr. Birrell's forgiveness, the tennis team, Mrs. Jaynes, orchestra, calculus, G2's, and a creative writing class that Nelson let me be in. 

it changed me, 

and I know this time it was for the better.

bittersweet

I've only known Paris as home for half a year, but it seems as if I've known it for my entire life.

the desks, the blank lines, the people;

familiarity sits on the tip of my tongue, but I still haven't seen the Eiffel Tower yet, my French is anything but fluent and macaroons are probably the worst thing I have ever tasted. 

I'm just a tourist, not a native

and my time here is coming to an end.

Nelson just sent out a text saying to please write your last blog post. 

this whole year has been about "lasts"

last homecoming

last football game

last home match

last calculus test

last kiss

last prom

last day of high school

last, last, last.

and when I look back to my first day of sophomore year and how I got completely lost 3 times I think about how I'll be reliving that in college.

I'm ready for change but I'm not

I'm ready to leave but I'm not

I'm ready to say goodbye to people who I've known for almost 6 years but at the same time I'm not.

and I'm almost positive you all feel the same. 

it's all bittersweet; there is no happy medium or middle median,

just the fact that on May 28 it's all over and our lives are just beginning to start. 

so here's to you all:

McKay, Cole, Kailee, Nelson, Micah, Madeline, Abby W, McCall, Natty, Isaac, Mallary, John, Tanner J, Annie, Morgan, Cass, Colby, Tanner T, CJ, Emma, Sam, Jess, Abby N, Hailey, Taylor, Reags, Natalie, Sara, Hannah, Maddi, Megan, and Michael. My creative writing family.

I can't wait to see what you do and who you become; you all hold a special place in my heart. I hope we all can visit Paris together again one day, and instead maybe we can be natives instead of tourists. It's been an honor flying this plane with you. Even though we broke down a couple times and needed to refuel, I've enjoyed every moment. 

saturday

let's talk about saturday night;

pouring rain

memories made 

and songs that were played on may 16th

and how it well surpassed january 11th,

a day I never thought could be beaten. 

we were like day dreams and fantasies

pretty dresses and loose ties,

cherry sodas and fingers intertwined,

curled lips and brown eyes.

we were us

the us we used to be,

and for the first time in 6 months the middle seat in your truck was saved for me and instead of toleration we were adoration.

we were us.

my little hands that fit with your big ones

and your arms that were always meant to be for my shoulders

and my lips on your cheek were smoother.

we were right.

and Saturday night reminded us of that as we stood there in the rain

chanting names and running away from the police.

we were us.

and "us" is all I've wanted forever;

so shoutout to Saturday night and rainstorms,

thanks for letting it happen.

irises

sorry for love yet again.

it's just what hurts.

I always thought you had brown eyes.

they were soft and deep,

kind of like your soul and a little bit how you spoke.

they defined you and me

and the proximity 

of our fingers intertwined.

I missed them often

but they were always familiar;

always immutable

always brown.

but last night you looked right into me

and when I looked back,

I saw hazel

something I'd never seen in you.

I had known you for three and a half years and never saw that obvious green tint that blended between the brown I had always loved.

maybe brown was always for me,

but last night when I saw green I knew it was only for her.

your eyes became strangers and in five slow seconds,

my heart broke its last piece;

the last shard still standing became shattered, and it felt like my arteries couldn't keep pumping the last ounce of blood back out into my veins.

I cried

but the rain covered up my tears;

the sky knew I didn't want you to see.

you left me with bare palms and a weakening pulse

wet hair, wet clothes

and my wet eyes,

they longed for brown when I got my last glimpse;

but all I saw was hazel.

that green tint that blended between the edges of brown.

a hard, shallow,

non-immutable,

unfamiliar

hazel.

video

sorry I edited just a wee bit. I had some time. 

also, I performed this on April 21, the day before my birthday. and 18 isnt as scary as I thought. so here I am, slammin in the canyon.

words we swallowed

it was warm and june;

the type of day when 'I love you's' and 'I hate you's' meant the same thing and dandelions were more that just weeds.

we came at dusk and didn't leave till dawn;

our moms were mad and our words weren't much

but our eyes said everything,

except for what we both needed to hear.

our tongues weren't brave enough,

our hearts weren't brave enough,

not even our eyes were brave enough

and perhaps that's why my wounds still sting and your middle seat is filled.

people call us complexity

we want to be called clarity 

but we both know clarity doesn't start with a plus-one and blue eyes;

it starts with you-plus-me

and dark green pine trees

just like the ones in june.

if only we had choked instead of swallowed that warm day somewhere in between dusk and dawn.

'I love you' would've come out sooner.

eat, sleep, think, repeat.

spring break comes with a routine:

eat, think, eat, sleep, think, eat, think, think, think

think

sleep

repeat.

there is too much time for my mind to wander, and call me crazy but I would rather read my language textbook than be thinking.

I've looked everywhere for the off switch 

so I could listen to the waves crash without hearing the faint sound of your soft voices echoing with the whitewater.

it's replaying in my mind like a 

scratched cd;

his weak smile and sparks in his eyes; a heartbreaking sense of longing and lust with you;

and the scary part is that

they both make sense.

but my lungs are growing weak from the exhaustion of running away from what I want most,

and my heart is confused on the subject of friendship.

the empty feeling is becoming constant and I want it to leave,

but I want it to leave the right way.

so, to love with pain and longing

or to love unfaithfully;

because no matter how much I love him I will always have the thought of you in the back of my broken mind

wishing every kiss, every touch

every conversation

was with you. 

it's a sick disease 

and unfortunately I cannot imagine the day where I will finally be able to say,

"I don't love you anymore"

maybe someday you'll take a good look into my eyes

and see past the thick layer of whatever was holding you back and think, "it's always been her"

because I know for myself 

it'll always be you.

running

my lungs are burning,

gasping for air with every stride

watching the trees go by

I am running.

the colors are turning fast

and my mind wants to catch up

but my heart has a calendar of its own,

and it says May 28 shouldn't be

this close

I am running.

my legs want to stop

and memories are being made,

but the clock ticks on 

and those memories are becoming blurs;

minds are spinning

legs are still moving

I am running.

I am running

I am running

I am running

hell, im sprinting

and baby this is the last mile of 26.2

my lungs are burning,

gasping for air with every stride.

why am I still running?

if you really knew me

i didnt get to do one of these, and because CW1 is revealing themselves this week i thought maybe i could too. im scared.


if you really knew me, you would know little french shops
and italian gelato
chocolate and strawberry to be exact.

you would know my fingers long for piano keys
even though i have never owned a piano in my life
you would know gardens filled with roses and peonies
red, pink, and that pretty warm orange color that they put out in the front row at home depot in june.
you would feel a lot of love
it would feel like that pretty orange color in june sometimes
but mostly it would feel black.

you would know a variety of red lipsticks
named things like hot rod or cherry kiss
but never just plain red.

you would know chanel perfumes and pink vanities,
books without a book case, loud alarm clocks, people in picture frames,
sheet music, an application to juilliard, an unmade bed, california license plates,
and a plethora of sketch books filled with drawings of humans i have never met;
they are all different.

you would know hiking trails and mountain breezes
and that my lungs only breathe in the sea salt and pine.

you would know shutter speed and aperture
because my nikon d90 lives in the apples of my eyes,

and that i have an entire playlist made up of ben howard, keaton henson and tom odell;
and how its for when i finally get my first kiss.
you would know that ive been absolutely broken many times
and im pretty good at covering up the layer of heartbreak
that tries to seep through my words like fog.
but you would know only the best of the best can see through it.

you would know i love to be fancy but my sweats are my best friends,
and that swinging on the swings makes me happy;
you would know my biggest insecurity are my legs
because no matter how much running or squatting i do they stay the exact same.
you would know that my cello lives in my soul
and that bach is my favorite composer.

you would know that tennis isnt just what i play,
its what i live for

and that i always peel my apples before i eat them.
you would know ive always wished my name was lola
and that i prefer bubble gum over mint
and that i watch too many movies
and that i study harry potter religiously.
you would know the real me:
jacqueline jane bitton,
born on april 22, 1997 at 6:38am
and that i came out blue.
shout out to the doctors for draining my lungs
and shout out to god for making me
me.

now you know me,
i still hope you like me.