You thought you were in control, your thumb on every component of your life. Then it happens: blue eyes become bluer, recipes for lasagna peak your interest, your future plans don’t seem so urgent, a kiss still makes you nervous, and you wonder how the hell did all this happen? When did love decide to waltz in smirking, spin me around, and send me on a new path?
If you wake up with arms around you tight and don’t ever want to get out of bed, consider yourself lucky. If you look up and wonder why in the world am I chosen, consider yourself lucky. People don’t get this chance often.
Waltz away, tricky love. Waltz.
I gave up my thoughts, my dreams, my stories: my mind.
I gave up my touch, my lips, my warmth: my body.
I’ll give up my: name it.
I can scream the words a thousand times
From mountain tops of a thousand heights
I can see them floating in your eyes,
So I will try with all my might
To let that be enough for me.
If you whisper the words just a time
Just an inch from my own face at night
I’d be floating in a sunrise sky
But I will try with all my might
Because you are enough for me.
sometimes I hear the songs about heartache and know what they hate about the person they are singing about because I am what they describe. because I am the person that is hated. I am the person that decided to walk away.
but breathing is breathing, and suffocating is suffocating. so if I wrecked you, I’m terribly sorry. I ache some nights, but you and I will be alright. and we are all breathing, so we are the lucky ones.
people start listening
when you’re broken.
people start questioning
when you’re frozen.
When 4 years underwater is life,
the gasp for air’s like a knife.
sharp, cutting, bloody, pain
but air is air all the same.
Scoffed and scolded
like a blatantly disobedient child
when everything I’ve told you is actually mild.
if everyone knew,
the glares would have merit.
it’s only few
in my heart that wear it.
I welcome the needles and knives,
the air in and out
I hope they leave scars
and I’ll remember my mental shouts.
Question and listen to him and his woes
I’ll take knives over water tonight
There’s healing and scars to develop
and for the first time: I’m feeling alright.
I enjoy melting into my bed and listening to the music he gave me until 1am. I enjoy spinach and a spoonful of frozen vanilla yogurt in my smoothie in the mornings. I enjoy high fiving angry, bitter 13 year old Calvin and saying his name multiple times a day; I know you, I acknowledge your value, and I won’t give up. I enjoy laughing with my best friend even though our voices are gone. I enjoy the young adult literature I read while I bike and remembering being the age of those I’m teaching.
It gets better. I’m proof.
I’m suddenly 22 and hoping I can still hold my daddy’s hand and cry on my mother’s shoulder. Wondering if I have done a job well done, or a job at all, at being a role model for my sisters. I’m suddenly 22 and breathless because summer - life really - has moved like the uptown subway train: the doors have opened, clipped you as it shuts, and bolts you out into the dark, only to leave you alone to crawl back up into the uptown world that feels like little diamonds attacking your skin. And I’m chasing these diamonds at 22 in a world I do not belong in quite yet. But the subway is whisking and rushing beneath me so I have no choice but to collect the diamonds as I can. I’m feeling odd at 22, wishing I was 19 again and a year into the best 4 years of my life. Where a wristband was valuable and dangerous, a best friend slept below you every night, and it was entirely alright to hold daddy’s hand. But I’m alright with 22, because I met you.
and everyday turns out to be a great day. Except sometimes I wish I was home in Miami. but if you’re never there, you miss it and appreciate it more. that’s definitely working…