sober

tonight I was surrounded by bottles and people

bottles, people, more bottles 

and at one point I had a bottle in my hand

three minutes it took 

I glimpsed, I held, but did not taste 

three minutes I had 

but did not taste. 

the boy who used me was there,

along with the one who drove me home and the other who I despised;

all held bottles,

which eventually became empty. 

the boy who used me said he knew heartbreak,

I said I knew it more. 

he laughed and he turned away

and found someone that was just a little bit less pathetic than me.

he held a bottle,

but had two in his back pocket.

the rest of them talked loudly 

the rest of them yelling cheers 

and in the middle of them

I stood still;

idle and bottle-less

sober. 

and I longed for the taste. 

 

hard core nostalgia

I miss creative writing,

because when Leo finally won an Oscar

I thought about that one time we all dressed up and ate food and walked the red carpet.

I remember expressing feelings and it being okay,

I remember talent and true friendship.

I miss the high school tennis courts,

lots of the girls 

definitely not the coach

but mostly that state champ plaque with my name on it hanging above court 5.

I miss my calculus teacher, 

because at least then math was a challenge and I had a teacher who remembered my name. 

I miss my cello,

I miss that a lot;

playing in the orchestra every day

solo and ensemble 

and the feeling of nailing the octaves of Concerto in A minor by Saint-Saens.

I miss ditching school to be rebellious

I miss canyon drives 

I miss cheering at football and basketball games 

I miss Señora Swartz

I miss getting hot bevs with grace

and most of all, 

I miss seeing him every day. 

he went from consistent contact to sporadic letters 

and I didn't really know how much I loved him until he loved me on paper.

I miss being a simple,

dependent, 

emotional,

inspired,

passionate 

kid.

I miss high school. 

not everyone can say that, 

but for me,

high school was a highlight,

because at least then I had a full size bed and drinking alcohol wasn't even a thing

and I didn't have to make dinner 

and my writing was exceptionally better. 

becoming is adult was hard

being a student athlete is hard

not being able to play cello anymore is hard

making dinner is hard

not seeing him every day is hard

and feeling uninspired is hard. 

college is hard.

so kids, soak it up while you can 

because graduation comes before you know it. 

you may be excited now, 

but when you literally have to nap 24/7 and you have 5 essays due

you DEFINITELY will miss high school. 

subconscious

if the only thing

I have left of you 

is in my dreams,

give me nightmares;

because babe, 

you always 

end up being 

the one

to save me

in the end.

to the unnoticed

his heart is gold

gold like kings 

gold like he sees,

my heart is black, 

black like space, 

black without grace. 

and only black. 

not silver, 

not gold;

just black.

unseen and 

under cover

I sit still;

and he only sees gold.

                       photo by me.

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.