this much, that early

what I want time refuses

to hand over

not yet ready for the future

and unsatisfied with the present

I run ahead of my desires

straight into plans

that were never made

and I end up loving him

this much

that early

all over again.

 

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just a boy

I’ve always been a fan of the fixer uppers,
maybe because for a while there
I thought of myself as one, or maybe
I was so broken that I thought I deserved the same,
some more jagged sharp edges to pierce my center,
another critical mind to judge me harshly,
or maybe I was just as shallow
in my simplistic demands for passion,
maybe just as dumb to think I could keep
fire separate from warmth;
hands separate from love…
a line drawn in the middle with an incredulous finger
when it became obvious he had no heart to gift back.

was that really a choice or just me giving in?

Now he calls me a girl
as if he hadn’t yet met the woman I’ve become
and I call him a boy
because that’s exactly
who he is.

planting sunflowers

He was enough
just the way he was
the day he helped me plant my first sunflower
and as if speaking to the child inside me
he told me to not be scared for the worms
as I dug my shovel into the clumps of soil,
putting all their lives in peril.

And I remember smiling at the fact that
we could yell at each other
and then spend the rest of the day’s light
playing in the dirt
together.

saturday night

You get in your bathing suit and go sit in the hot tub. It’s dusk. You bring the new book you bought earlier but don’t read it. Instead you sit there thinking about your dead ex-boyfriend and of how proud he would be if he could see how mature and stable and sober and responsible you’ve become. You start to cry because you miss him, because you feel lonely, because it’s saturday night and you wish you were somewhere else, doing something fun, not sitting here, alone. But what if spilling tears in a hot tub is what your heart needs now? What if this is how you heal? Maybe sitting in silence submerged in water without any substances in your system will finally give you the clarity you’ve been seeking. God knows you tried all the opposites already. God knows you’ve tried to outrun all these thoughts already but you’re never fast enough.

You recline your head back and look up at the now dark sky, sprinkled with stars. You try counting them and get to fifty, unsure if somewhere in there a plane or satellite snuck its way in. Apparently you need glasses now. Still, you see three of the stars that make up the big dipper and that brings you comfort because you remember spotting them in Brazil as a child. Maybe not that much has changed, after all.

When your skin folds in like an old woman’s, you leave the hot tub, shower, and feed yourself popcorn and a frozen entree for dinner as you watch a series about an orphan girl called Anne who is all alone in the world.

It seems appropriate.

Around ten p.m., you drift off to sleep as Anne finds a family and falls in love in the background.

(H)ego

“Have you written anything about me?” he asked
and from behind him I heard
a chorus of all my past lovers,
their voices echoing his question,
curious to know how much claim they once had on my heart,
how many letters I strung together to gift them with
but never what remained when they left,
never how many chances I gave,
never a sorry for using me to feed their ego,
never any words
gifted back
to me.