Last Day

I drink you in as I trace your body with my eyes

Start at your feet, absorbing every inch of you

As I watch you, the mid-afternoon light shines in the window

It soaks into your skin as you sleep

I can't help but whisper "I love you".

I think.

I love you in every way possible

But I love your imperfections the most

The slight protrusion of the right elbow, an old sports injury

The wisps of hair that cover up your part

The freckles of your face

The way your lower lip sticks out when you laugh

The bottom row of crooked teeth

The freckle on your right eye lid

The speckle of green in your brown eyes

These things make you who you are

They remind me that life is beautiful in its imperfections not its perfections.

You stay asleep. Your hands to your sides. Body straight.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale again.

Dum Dum. Dum Dum. Your heart beats.

The clock ticks. Tick tick ticktick tick tick ticktick.

The last hours before you leave.

I just lay there drinking you in as I trace your body with my eyes.

Find Your Adventure

Love is not a task or duty. Love is an adventure.

Filled with excitement and a small amount of terror.

"Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you. Changes its mind."

Love isn't the determining factor. It doesn't last.

Love is like a sweet breeze in May.

It comes unexpectedly, hitting you with its sweetness.

But it is fleeting. Never overstaying its welcome.

Only the remnants of sweetness remind you that it was even there in the first place.

Yet its that moment we wait for.

Strive for.

And even though we know that it won't last. Even though we know we may not find it.

We still wait.

No, love isn't the determining factor.

It is a myth. A fantasy. A gimmick to keep us guessing, say the cynics.

Love is like God. You can either believe in it or not. Its your choice.

It is invisible to the physical senses and really can not be described with words.

 Words place love into a box. Puts bars around it like a prisoner when it can not possibly put into words.

Love is fragile. Love takes faith.

At many times, Love doesn't come through. You may pray. You may cry. You may plead.

But love can not be coaxed.

It just happens like a sweet breeze in May.







Quote: excerpt from White Oleander by Janet Fitch

June 25: Frustration

Some times I wish I could just SCREAM.

I feel like I do not fit.

Like I am the wrong key being shoved in a keyhole.

People do not understand.

They do not see. Instead they close their eyes harder.

They do not hear. Instead they cover their ears.

They do not think. Instead they just follow.

I can not stand them.

And because I am not one of them, I can not stand myself.

So I just go back to living away from the cruel world.

As I wait for them to be ready.

Will they ever be ready?

Connections

Every time I am with him I feel special.

The way he looks at me with his brown eyes.

The things he talks to me about.

The closeness.

We mesh together somehow.

I beginning to think that people see it. See us.

But... sometimes I wonder

if it's just me... until moments like this.

The moments when I can imagine the every day things

not just the exciting moments.

Moments are fleeting. They come and they go.

But when an ordinary day is just as precious as the moments

That's when you know its true.

Premonitions

As I walk listening to music and people watching, I see it.

Clear as day. It has occurred for the past few months but this time it's stronger.

More vivid.

Powerful.

This time he has a face.

I look away thinking that my eyes are deceiving me.

But in fact they aren't.

I have seen us. Flashes of things that never happened.

First dates, kisses, marriage.

But is it true? Can someone really see this about their own life?

It doesn't work that way. I repeat this over and over again.

But there have been many impossible things that have been true.

I didn't believe I would be living in California. But that is in fact true.

I attempt to make sense of it all. I fail.

Is it possible for there to be one person in this world made just for you?

I don't know. I just feel as if I have to stand at the edge.

Blindly waiting for him, whomever he is, to take my hand and jump.

June 6th: Waves

The waves call to me with their roars.

It sounds like a fire. The cackling and cracking as they pound the sand.

I look out into the black abyss

Created by the sky meeting the water.

I wonder, "how much bigger does the world get?"

We constantly live within our minds, within our situations, and our own worlds.

We forget that we are apart of something much greater. 

We are apart of the Black Abyss.

Now, the waves crash one after one like the pops of fireworks on the fourth.

It is the grand finale.

They rush to meet me, the waves. 

For the first time in my life, I feel free.

Will you jump into the abyss with me?