sometimes it is just about having them there. about letting them see what your room looks like. or that arm on your chest or your back, your thigh. sometimes i just want someone breathing in my ear. or someone else's cell phone alarm to go off in the morning. i wanna know what beer and cigarette breathe smells like. i wanna have to get up to find that sock that you cant seem to find. sometimes i actually do want to know what you wanna do with your life, what you imagined you would do when you were little. i wanna hear what your voice sounds like when youre not around your friends, what your laugh sounds like. its not always about fucking.

childhood secrets

his eyelashes were like golden foils placed delicately above and below his eyes. He had a boyish lust and after i had gotten over him, or the idea of him, he wasnt as handsome as he use to be. His crooked teeth no longer seemed cute. His dirty nails were just that and i had no time for his hands anymore. no longer wished them on my body. He had returned finally to that place in time where he was just another boy that i continued to overlook, bypass. He no longer made my heart flutter like a million monarch butterflies, no longer made me replay silly, simple sentences over in my head in fear they would come out all jumbled and stuttered through a body full of nerves. My friends always wondered and questioned what it was that i saw in him and i would gush and words would come spilling out of my mouth too quickly, proclaiming how beautiful he was, and always ending it with "you really dont think so?!" and i guess now i understand why they had said it. They knew he had my heart, I had given it to him too easily on a silver platter, including silverware to destroy it, eat it, and spit it out at me. i only miss his eyelashes though. and maybe his laugh and the way he would ask me if i was sleepy, and take my hand and lead me to his room. It always made me feel special. That hand in mine, it made me feel like i was right on the cusp of being a child and also an adult, but with a secret. It was like whispering a secret into a childhood friends ear and knowing they would keep it forever. That hand. and those eyelashes. those are really the only things i miss.

Je n'avais aucun homme en juillet

i once was told, that the most beautiful thing
a man saw
was a cat sun bathing outside on the
pavement.

i just wanted to be a rebel, baby
wanted to be the other women for once
but once i had the opportunity for this,
i ran and hid, avoided phone calls and emails
im not much of a rebel and clearly perhaps a pacifist-
but only when it comes to love.
and there are those moments
when time stops
but i've only expeirenced the ones involving death and sex
hospitals and beds
and it all seems trivial now
when you try to picture those memories in your head but you
cant see his face but you know that she still pictures yours.

summer of love

i've got sunglasses lying around my apartment

red ones and black ones,

yellow and white- 

five or six pairs.

and

you would think that i was trying

to hide from the sun or something.

the point is..

and there comes a point in your life when you stop being selfish for one minute and think about someone else for a change because regardless of how much they have hurt you, how many times they have made you cry, how many times they have smiled at you and then turned around and walked out the door with another one, you still care, you still love, and you still want them to know that someone has their back.

i wake up through out the morning
changing the alarm clock on my phone
pushing back the time i need to wake up
three, four, five times because
even five more minutes with my head on your chest is
worth the dirty looks i'll get
walking into work late.