This -
this breath
this moment
this tune -
is what life is about.
One moment it
rises
soars
finds purchase in the world
the next it falls
Falls
into the darkness
into awkward silences
into my memories
as you slip away
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why am I left here,
wondering all of the
"what if's"?
How is it that one moment
can be so infinatly different than another?
That you can change
all in the space of 60 seconds?
That I can screw it up and
land flat on my face?
Sigh as the thoughts flow
and my mind starts to numb.
The simple truth is:
I have no idea
No idea about you
or what's in the future.
But I'm willing to wait
and try.
----------
I'm sure you know what (and who) I'm talking about, Abigailxx.
13 May 2009
11 May 2009
Uncomprehensible
There are things I can not comprehend, let alone try to explain through words that can take on a meaning of their own. Things like love, why birds sing, why the sky is so enticing, and why crew is simply addicting. Things like my feelings, my emotions, and why they are what they are. Things like how a smile can make my day and why I giggle when certain words are said.
But…they all want me to put my feelings into words. Words that can be interpreted many different ways, depending on who said them, whom they’re said to, who eavesdrops…they are not always as reliable as one might think. Especially one who plans to make her career on words.
Obviously, I don’t want to screw things up like I have in the past. Screw up so much that I lose someone who means so much to me. But how do I let you know?
No clue.
But…they all want me to put my feelings into words. Words that can be interpreted many different ways, depending on who said them, whom they’re said to, who eavesdrops…they are not always as reliable as one might think. Especially one who plans to make her career on words.
Obviously, I don’t want to screw things up like I have in the past. Screw up so much that I lose someone who means so much to me. But how do I let you know?
No clue.
04 May 2009
Moments...
Words
Don’t seem to help,
To say what I need them to,
To tell you
The truth
The truth
Behind every action,
Every thing I say.
Every insignificant
Moment
It hurts.
To know that
We both want this so badly
Yet neither will
Make the move
Sure there are moments.
Whenever we’re together
Being the number one
On the list of
My favorites
But you?
I can never tell
Exactly what you mean
Or what’s going through
Your mind
It’s maddening.
Every moment
A mystery
Every word from your mouth
Mesmerizing and insignificant
Everything blends together:
Conversations, laughs
Moments we both cherish.
But what about you?
Do you remember them?
I remember every one.
Every second
Minute
Hour
Day
I hope you do too
Don’t seem to help,
To say what I need them to,
To tell you
The truth
The truth
Behind every action,
Every thing I say.
Every insignificant
Moment
It hurts.
To know that
We both want this so badly
Yet neither will
Make the move
Sure there are moments.
Whenever we’re together
Being the number one
On the list of
My favorites
But you?
I can never tell
Exactly what you mean
Or what’s going through
Your mind
It’s maddening.
Every moment
A mystery
Every word from your mouth
Mesmerizing and insignificant
Everything blends together:
Conversations, laughs
Moments we both cherish.
But what about you?
Do you remember them?
I remember every one.
Every second
Minute
Hour
Day
I hope you do too
01 May 2009
Shattered Hearts (companion to Scattered Letters)
Hearts shatter every second
So why is heartbreak so painful?
So full of sadness and tears?
Glass breaks, shatters, cracks.
Why must hearts be made of glass,
When it’s so obviously breakable?
Thoughts such as these
Are stemmed from rainy days,
Lovely smiles and chocolate-chip cookies.
Smiles that can mend a heart
(if put to the correct use)
Or cause a broken one even more pain.
I see one of those smiles
And try to forget it so
I may go about my day.
It’s no use.
It stays hidden in my thoughts all day,
Popping up when least expected.
Although it’s not unpleasant,
It does remind me of another
And times spent not-so-long ago.
The owner of this smile is…
Well, that’s the hard part.
Am I dreaming of perfection, or is it really him?
Is he really who I think,
Or is my imagination acting up again
As it’s apt to do?
Sigh as the comparisons draw closer
Until I’m not sure which one is which
And who it is I wish I were with
Someone One or Someone Two
Or some strange combination of both?
Possibly something different altogether?
Whatever the imagery in my mind,
It’s not likely to become truth
Unless I take the initiative and run.
So why is heartbreak so painful?
So full of sadness and tears?
Glass breaks, shatters, cracks.
Why must hearts be made of glass,
When it’s so obviously breakable?
Thoughts such as these
Are stemmed from rainy days,
Lovely smiles and chocolate-chip cookies.
Smiles that can mend a heart
(if put to the correct use)
Or cause a broken one even more pain.
I see one of those smiles
And try to forget it so
I may go about my day.
It’s no use.
It stays hidden in my thoughts all day,
Popping up when least expected.
Although it’s not unpleasant,
It does remind me of another
And times spent not-so-long ago.
The owner of this smile is…
Well, that’s the hard part.
Am I dreaming of perfection, or is it really him?
Is he really who I think,
Or is my imagination acting up again
As it’s apt to do?
Sigh as the comparisons draw closer
Until I’m not sure which one is which
And who it is I wish I were with
Someone One or Someone Two
Or some strange combination of both?
Possibly something different altogether?
Whatever the imagery in my mind,
It’s not likely to become truth
Unless I take the initiative and run.
Scattered Letters
Words scatter themselves across my page
But all I can do is sip my coffee
And sigh
The words can try and arrange themselves
Into sentences that make sense the tangle of my mind
But it’s to no avail
For if I cannot do so myself, how can they?
If I cannot make sense of my own thoughts
Then how could words flowing from my fingers?
All I want is a simple way to explain.
Explain how I feel, why he affects me so,
Why my heart skips whenever he is mentioned
How a single glance can make my day
Or how a glare could make me want to crawl into bed
Or even how the memory of his laugh makes me feel better.
Sigh again as the frustration starts anew.
Frustration stemmed from sadness, loneliness
And all those butterflies.
Taking my mug and standing from the booth,
I tuck the letters into my pocket and
Try to move on with my life
The street outside is crowded with people
Going about their lives as per usual.
Ignoring one another.
Few heads seem familiar, but
I think I glimpse that Special One in particular.
Second glance proves me wrong.
Is it sad that I see him everywhere I go?
Sad that I want what I know I’ll never have?
That I could never deserve?
From my pocket a letter suddenly flies.
I watch it dance with the wind, swooping
Swirling, spiraling with every current.
I want to run after it, but it’s useless.
After all, it was one from him
And I need to forget, though I know I can’t.
But all I can do is sip my coffee
And sigh
The words can try and arrange themselves
Into sentences that make sense the tangle of my mind
But it’s to no avail
For if I cannot do so myself, how can they?
If I cannot make sense of my own thoughts
Then how could words flowing from my fingers?
All I want is a simple way to explain.
Explain how I feel, why he affects me so,
Why my heart skips whenever he is mentioned
How a single glance can make my day
Or how a glare could make me want to crawl into bed
Or even how the memory of his laugh makes me feel better.
Sigh again as the frustration starts anew.
Frustration stemmed from sadness, loneliness
And all those butterflies.
Taking my mug and standing from the booth,
I tuck the letters into my pocket and
Try to move on with my life
The street outside is crowded with people
Going about their lives as per usual.
Ignoring one another.
Few heads seem familiar, but
I think I glimpse that Special One in particular.
Second glance proves me wrong.
Is it sad that I see him everywhere I go?
Sad that I want what I know I’ll never have?
That I could never deserve?
From my pocket a letter suddenly flies.
I watch it dance with the wind, swooping
Swirling, spiraling with every current.
I want to run after it, but it’s useless.
After all, it was one from him
And I need to forget, though I know I can’t.
His Girl Friday
It started innocently enough, as these things always do. Ashlin was someone I had always been close to, always felt I could trust. Naturally, we ended up in the same clique in high school. She was the cheerleading captain junior year, when it all went down hill.
I had been a star tight end on our school’s football team since I joined freshman year. It was not my first love; no, that title belongs to music. I was the guy on the team that didn’t quite fit in – the guys only tolerated/liked me because they had to or Coach would yell.
So, quite understandably, when I quit the team senior year, they all jumped me. Told me that I cost them a perfect season as they punched me. Told me I would never amount to anything with my “silly singing thing” that I had going.
Ha. I hope they’re reading this (if they’ve finally learned to read).
Ash was the one to find me after that, half shoved into the dumpster behind the school. She had just gotten out of practice, and was probably off to see Brett (aka the Flavor of the Moment for her and the team’s quarterback).
But she saw me first.
“Charlie!” she called, horror written all over her face. “Charlie, who did this to you?”
Now, let it be known that I am a tough guy. To put up with football conditioning, you have to be. But I had just been beaten within an inch of my life and it hurt. My lips were swollen and bleeding, so even though I said, “Your idiot boyfriend and the rest of the team,” it probably just sounded like mush.
She was crying then. That’s probably what I remember the most. Tears just started pouring down her face, which is how I knew that she had understood me. Always had. “Oh, you poor thing,” she whispered, fingertips lightly caressing my cheek. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?” Helping me to my feet, she maneuvered me over to her truck.
Ashlin is not your typical cheerleader. She’s not blonde, not overly popular, doesn’t rule the school, and is generally just a nice person. And smart. I don’t think her GPA has ever been below a 3.8. But she is much more…scene…than you would think. Someone you really couldn’t picture as a cheerleader, let alone captain, if you saw her by herself. Wears skate shoes and hoodies when she’s not in practice, would never be caught dead in her uniform unless she absolutely had to…kinda the anti-cheerleader. But she still works just as hard – if not harder – than the other girls on her team because she’s so small. Probably only 5 foot 2 and no more than 120 pounds.
But moving me into her truck still wasn’t easy. I wasn’t much help, which wasn’t totally my fault, but still emasculated me. Somehow we managed it, though, and before I knew it we were back at my house.
“So…?” her tone asked what she felt was too awkward to.
“Nobody’s home, Ash. Dad and Tara went on some Daddy-Daughter thing. Come in and help patch me up?” I offered her a hand out of the truck. She took it.
Before this gets any further, Ashlin is…well, kinda a time-share girl. Saturday through Thursday, she’s mine. But Friday? She’s his girl Friday. Him being Brett Smithson, star quarterback, every girl in the school’s crush, general meathead.
And today, the day of my beat down? Friday.
So, naturally, I was kinda worried. “How much does Brett know about us?” I asked as she put Neosporin on my various cuts and wiped the blood away.
She paused just long enough to raise an eyebrow at me. “He knows I’m only ‘with’ him so he’s not swarmed by every freshie fangirl in the school. But that it’s only show. He’s a big boy, he can think of an excuse as to why I’m not at Britney’s party.” Seeing my still-questioning look, she added, “But he does know about you and I, Charlie. Probably why he hurt you so much…”
I could tell she was beating herself up about it. I cupped her chin in my fingers, searching her eyes with my own. “It’s not your fault. I knew the risks when we started this.”
“But it’s still not fair!”
I smirked. “No one ever said high school was.”
Truth was, I don’t think I ever really understood how dangerous our relationship could be. Sure, there were the footballers to worry about, but what’s twenty-some people compared to the entire school? Apparently, that was the reality. If word got out about us, the drop-our star and the head cheerleader, well…let’s just say I’d probably hurt a lot more than I did then.
But what’s a few scrapes compared to having someone who loved you?
Ashlin did. She told me every chance she could through her actions. Even just ditching out on Brett to help me – that said it. Of course, she said it too. Just not as often as those moments when I just knew.
Her sudden sigh brought me back to the moment. “Charlie, what if I just left him? Face it; with where I stand in the hierarchy of the school, you’d be untouchable. You know everyone knows the cheer squad could take down almost anybody. We would be fine, we wouldn’t have to sneak around…”
I kissed her forehead softly, murmuring into her hair. “I love you, you know that. But…well…”
“But what, Charlie?” her tone was laced with tears.
“Well…I don’t know! I just want to be with you, Ash.” My head was spinning. Hadn’t I dreamed about the moment when I could walk the hallways holding her hand and not be ridiculed? “I just…I want…” I sighed, realizing the words just wouldn’t come out. “I just want you to be happy. I can deal with whatever everyone else throws at me, as long as you’re okay. If they start in on you, though…well, I’m not making an promises that I won’t get into any fights.”
-
The next day, after spending the night together (relax, we just talked late and ended up falling asleep on the couch. I, being a gentleman, carried her to my bed and took the couch for myself), I limped into school, her on my arm.
The first thing I noticed was the brief glances and then double-takes. It seemed like everyone was a bit shocked, but no one particularly seemed like they were going to kill me. “Huh…” I mumbled. “Weird.”
Ash just beamed up at me. “See? I told you it would be fine. Stop worrying so much.”
And the funny part was, even the people who glared at me couldn’t have done anything. I was on Cloud 9, floating through the hallways with my own personal angel.
~
“Come on a Monday, come on a Tuesday, they’ll never know. Pop all the corks for Wednesday, play with me Thursday, but you’ll always be his girl Friday”
Obviously based upon the song "His Girl Friday" by The Academy Is... (go look it up on YouTube. It's amazing)
I had been a star tight end on our school’s football team since I joined freshman year. It was not my first love; no, that title belongs to music. I was the guy on the team that didn’t quite fit in – the guys only tolerated/liked me because they had to or Coach would yell.
So, quite understandably, when I quit the team senior year, they all jumped me. Told me that I cost them a perfect season as they punched me. Told me I would never amount to anything with my “silly singing thing” that I had going.
Ha. I hope they’re reading this (if they’ve finally learned to read).
Ash was the one to find me after that, half shoved into the dumpster behind the school. She had just gotten out of practice, and was probably off to see Brett (aka the Flavor of the Moment for her and the team’s quarterback).
But she saw me first.
“Charlie!” she called, horror written all over her face. “Charlie, who did this to you?”
Now, let it be known that I am a tough guy. To put up with football conditioning, you have to be. But I had just been beaten within an inch of my life and it hurt. My lips were swollen and bleeding, so even though I said, “Your idiot boyfriend and the rest of the team,” it probably just sounded like mush.
She was crying then. That’s probably what I remember the most. Tears just started pouring down her face, which is how I knew that she had understood me. Always had. “Oh, you poor thing,” she whispered, fingertips lightly caressing my cheek. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?” Helping me to my feet, she maneuvered me over to her truck.
Ashlin is not your typical cheerleader. She’s not blonde, not overly popular, doesn’t rule the school, and is generally just a nice person. And smart. I don’t think her GPA has ever been below a 3.8. But she is much more…scene…than you would think. Someone you really couldn’t picture as a cheerleader, let alone captain, if you saw her by herself. Wears skate shoes and hoodies when she’s not in practice, would never be caught dead in her uniform unless she absolutely had to…kinda the anti-cheerleader. But she still works just as hard – if not harder – than the other girls on her team because she’s so small. Probably only 5 foot 2 and no more than 120 pounds.
But moving me into her truck still wasn’t easy. I wasn’t much help, which wasn’t totally my fault, but still emasculated me. Somehow we managed it, though, and before I knew it we were back at my house.
“So…?” her tone asked what she felt was too awkward to.
“Nobody’s home, Ash. Dad and Tara went on some Daddy-Daughter thing. Come in and help patch me up?” I offered her a hand out of the truck. She took it.
Before this gets any further, Ashlin is…well, kinda a time-share girl. Saturday through Thursday, she’s mine. But Friday? She’s his girl Friday. Him being Brett Smithson, star quarterback, every girl in the school’s crush, general meathead.
And today, the day of my beat down? Friday.
So, naturally, I was kinda worried. “How much does Brett know about us?” I asked as she put Neosporin on my various cuts and wiped the blood away.
She paused just long enough to raise an eyebrow at me. “He knows I’m only ‘with’ him so he’s not swarmed by every freshie fangirl in the school. But that it’s only show. He’s a big boy, he can think of an excuse as to why I’m not at Britney’s party.” Seeing my still-questioning look, she added, “But he does know about you and I, Charlie. Probably why he hurt you so much…”
I could tell she was beating herself up about it. I cupped her chin in my fingers, searching her eyes with my own. “It’s not your fault. I knew the risks when we started this.”
“But it’s still not fair!”
I smirked. “No one ever said high school was.”
Truth was, I don’t think I ever really understood how dangerous our relationship could be. Sure, there were the footballers to worry about, but what’s twenty-some people compared to the entire school? Apparently, that was the reality. If word got out about us, the drop-our star and the head cheerleader, well…let’s just say I’d probably hurt a lot more than I did then.
But what’s a few scrapes compared to having someone who loved you?
Ashlin did. She told me every chance she could through her actions. Even just ditching out on Brett to help me – that said it. Of course, she said it too. Just not as often as those moments when I just knew.
Her sudden sigh brought me back to the moment. “Charlie, what if I just left him? Face it; with where I stand in the hierarchy of the school, you’d be untouchable. You know everyone knows the cheer squad could take down almost anybody. We would be fine, we wouldn’t have to sneak around…”
I kissed her forehead softly, murmuring into her hair. “I love you, you know that. But…well…”
“But what, Charlie?” her tone was laced with tears.
“Well…I don’t know! I just want to be with you, Ash.” My head was spinning. Hadn’t I dreamed about the moment when I could walk the hallways holding her hand and not be ridiculed? “I just…I want…” I sighed, realizing the words just wouldn’t come out. “I just want you to be happy. I can deal with whatever everyone else throws at me, as long as you’re okay. If they start in on you, though…well, I’m not making an promises that I won’t get into any fights.”
-
The next day, after spending the night together (relax, we just talked late and ended up falling asleep on the couch. I, being a gentleman, carried her to my bed and took the couch for myself), I limped into school, her on my arm.
The first thing I noticed was the brief glances and then double-takes. It seemed like everyone was a bit shocked, but no one particularly seemed like they were going to kill me. “Huh…” I mumbled. “Weird.”
Ash just beamed up at me. “See? I told you it would be fine. Stop worrying so much.”
And the funny part was, even the people who glared at me couldn’t have done anything. I was on Cloud 9, floating through the hallways with my own personal angel.
~
“Come on a Monday, come on a Tuesday, they’ll never know. Pop all the corks for Wednesday, play with me Thursday, but you’ll always be his girl Friday”
Obviously based upon the song "His Girl Friday" by The Academy Is... (go look it up on YouTube. It's amazing)
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