Midnight, More or Less

We’re laughing over the way we kiss. Uncontrollable laughter, like the kind that you’re trying to stifle at a slumber party before your parents give you the umpteenth warning to go to bed. We try for the fourth time to make this birthday kiss count. It’s midnight. The cement is wet and the red lights from the rite aid next to us reflect on the ground. We’ve been talking a lot about being grownups lately, and making references to what a grownup might do or say. Grownups put pillowcases on their pillows and posters in frames. We do some of the right things but I haven’t been to a slumber party in awhile and I miss this easy feeling. Minutes before your birthday you pull me in and request a birthday kiss. We don't usually have this kind of intimacy, this is a thoughtful, 'I mean it' kind. I'm suprised that when I look up you are not joking about the way you want to age into 24. The fact that it takes us four times to actually land the kiss reminds me of how sacred this is, this is something I always want to remember. This is us. We celebrate and forget our adulthood for a moment. I learn the importance of holding onto our youth, holding on to you. 

Happy Birthday, Gemini.  

Love Language

The love you have for me is masking the impurities I have contaminated our sacred language with. I stretch into my new skin and push you out the door. Don't come back to me, you deserve a kinder love. The irony of it is that you want me as I am, you've always wanted me, no matter which me I'm being. But I only want you when I'm bad. You are my playmate. As much as it saddens you, I know that a part of you likes me mean and rabid. But I like my nest, in my cage too. My heart wavers when you look at me like that, and just as quickly I feel rage crawling along the lines of my face. I feel a pressure betweeen my eyebrows from your thumb reminding me to stop scowling. I wish you wouldn't touch me. But you know I would never push your hands away. I know you love me and I'm sick everytime I feel you trying to fix my broken parts. You don't understand how broken things work, when they heal they are never as they once were. You are too gentle with me and it's time for you to hear the flighty thumps my heart makes in its attempt to escape a love I may never be ready for, not in this life.

Song Bird

I've seen you wholesome. I've seen you tame. But now you are wild. The melody of your song is no longer symmetrical to such straight lines. There are people who will want to quiet the delirium in your voice. But sweet girl, your song is wild, and you must sing it louder.

I came across things you once wrote for me. I know you wanted to be happy. You thought you could be. I'm so devastated that I could not help you. I'm going to mourn you today and thank the sun for shining on my face and always preserving my love for life. And then I will hope that the sun is finally shining on your face too. But If your days are still dark I will be even more intentional with the places I go and the people I share my light and love with, I'll do it for you. I will work hard at being thankful that I always remember to look up on sunny days, and to forgive those who are not always strong enough. You will always be a bright turtle star to me. I hope you find the strength to show everyone how lovely you really are. & when you are strong enough, look for the sunniest hill you can find and climb to the top. It will be all yours and I promise it will be kind and good to you. 

The Last Thing I Will Ever Write For You...

I want to ask if you're okay. I know that would be a strange question though. It's not my place anymore. When I wake to your glazed over eyes and the kind of yelling only heard at 2 AM I know you are no longer my Leo, and you are not okay. You need to go home. When you finally stumble out across my lawn I find myself wishing you couldve stayed. But you are not mine. I wish someone would turn you right side up. I wish I could have. We tried though didn't we? It's time for you to go away now. Look for what you need elsewhere. Sweet Leo, you were right the first time when you said you wouldn't find it here. But you'll come again won't you? Your compass is broken and this is not where you should be. This time I will be sure listen for the click in the door when I lock it. 

Just Like The Movies. Kind Of.

I’ve always wondered about you. Your black eyes, warm hugs, and your irritatingly loud presence. You’ve become my soft place to land and your energy shifts from your usual escapist nature into a subtle sympathy that I like to think you only have for me when you're needed like this. I’ve always wondered which guy you would be if this were the movies. Maybe your the guy we never expect the girl to fall for until she’s crying over an ex and there you are with wine and movies. There’s something to be said for the guy who is in every scene even after the movie has wrapped. After all the actors have gone home.

Part of learning lessons is to realize that eventually we recover & become better. I always seem to forget that part, until I realize I'm smiling again.