project #1

I wish I could be there to see what you have all created, but here's what I did:

I scavenged for paper at my hotel, took lines from all your blogs, added a few words and made some very minor changes so it would make sense, and walla. I give you a class poem arranged by me.

i also may or may not have written this by the pool this morning. (sorry nelson)

I do not know exactly what my heart wants to say

but it's been 8 years and I'm running out of dust.

I can't love anyone without hating something about them;

they say love is doing everything

love is doing anything.

sometimes I don't know who I am

my therapist said "you're good" and "you can"

but it's 47 minutes after midnight and I'm still gasping.

my mind felt things

thought in ways it hadn't before,

was touched like none other

all because of you.

I remember the variety of options I had

I remember how I chose you

and how I counted every second after I met you and my heart counted every rapid beat after that

but somewhere along the line I skipped beats and lost count because your eyes went from blue to sharp grey and your heart went cold and I had a staring contest with disappointment.

midnight just got darker and it seemed like the clouds cried with me.

I cut the strings I cut the ropes 

I used to know but now I don't.

you were my rebel without a cause

you are the reason I heave through corrupted lungs

and now I'm down to 8% on this laptop and that's how life feels sometimes

but darling now life is black and all I want is white.

I fought my feet and stopped for a little once hoping that time would move real slow. 

the grass grew between our toes;

our feet were firm 

our eyes were more.

we were piano keys and fifteens

and I'm starting to wonder if maybe those stars were your eyes because I could've sworn I lived to love you,

but eventually time moved on and so did we.

you know I may have broken a few hearts, but at least I did my best to glue them back together.

my heart has been given away so many times I'm not even sure it's mine anymore. 

he always looked at me like he did when he played the wrong note and I was naive enough to give into his bad apologies

he was 6:45 in the middle of July

I was 7:11 at the end of June

he was never him and I was never her.

now love drives a big black car

residing alone in the back seat I sit still

trying to remember where I kept my glue.