I think about
If i had killed myself
When you told me to
Would it have bothered you
Or did it hurt you that i didnt
Didnt love you enough to listen
Or that i loved you too much
To burden you with
The bullet that struck my brain
Did you know i tried and failed
That the knife couldn't find my veins
And that i walked past our place
In the rain
On the way home and you were
outside on the porch smoking cigarettes
Cold and carefree
In a cold and calmed
and callous and calculated way

Or maybe just carelessly

JP Nausea

I cannot stop thinking,
This thinking is
My existence.
I am because i
Am horrified by
My existence.
Were i to stop
This constant consistancy
Would i cease to be,
As a crashing computer
Loses its memory?
Lost, i am, for i think
Of death--and you.
Of suicide, a means to hide
From my guilt and responsibility.
I think of not feeling
The absence of comfort--
The torturous
The misery and agony
Of living without
You.
And dils.
Dils.
And you.
I think
Of my existance,
Of what i think,
As who--what i am.
Is this identity--
And others (people and pets)--
How they think of me--
Can i ever be free
To be or not to be?

I still dream of you every night
I wake,
Frozen in fright.
Of what-
I do not know
But, the answer for now
And always forever is no.

I think about
If i had killed myself
When you told me to
Would it have bothered you
Or did it hurt you that i didnt
Didnt love you enough to listen
Or that i loved you too much
To burden you with
The bullet that struck my brain
Did you know i tried and failed
That the knife couldn't find my veins
And that i walked past our place
In the rain
On the way home and you were
outside on the porch smoking cigarettes
Cold and carefree
In a cold and calmed
and callous and calculated way

Or maybe just carelessly

Brandon Gorrell

Yesterday I was nervous.

I was supposed to go to a show with you.

I was really glad we were friends and you were smart and you challenged me to think.

I sat in front of a computer before I was supposed to go to your house and I felt anxious.

I drank two beers and smoked some cigarettes and I felt a little less anxious.

I went to your house and you gave me a Xanax and we drank alcohol and we had an interesting conversation.

A children’s movie was on your television screen and I played with your cats.

I ate the Xanax you gave me.

You had a happy and depressed facial expression and I looked at you.

We walked your dog before we went to the show.

The show was filled with five hundred drunken frat boys on cocaine.

I looked at you and I felt disappointed and I said that I thought everyone was on cocaine.

You gave me another Xanax.

I hated the frat boys and I ate the Xanax.

You looked at the crowd and you said, Yeah, fuck them.

I laughed and I felt happy.

We watched the show.

I felt happy and amused.

You looked sad and depressed and happy and you ate two morphine pills.

You asked me if I felt anything from the Xanax and I said that I wasn’t sure.

Then the show was over.

We were bored and didn’t know what to do and we went to your house.

You gave me two morphine pills and I ate them and I played with your cats.

We went to a bar with no cover charge and we drank alcohol.

You looked depressed and tired and I felt a little depressed and tired.

I watched the DJ for awhile and I moved around a little bit and you stood behind me with a neutral facial expression.

I looked back at you sometimes and you were staring at me.

Sometimes you were looking at the ceiling.

We went to a booth and had small, two sentence conversations.

The bartender told everyone to leave.

We went outside and we were bored.

You asked if I was feeling the Xanax and the morphine and I said that I didn’t know.

I felt tired and I said that maybe I was feeling the Xanax and the morphine.

We decided to go to the gas station to get alcohol.

There were a lot of people at the gas station and I felt a little drunk.

You looked happy.

The clerk at the gas station told us it was too late to buy alcohol and I tried to bribe him with a five dollar bill and you laughed.

We were bored again and decided to go back to your apartment because you had alcohol.

When we got there we drank alcohol that tasted like cinnamon.

We talked about something and I felt interested and you had an anxious facial expression.

You called me a sexist and I felt bad.

I said that sometimes you made me feel like you didn’t like me and you got up and went to the bathroom.

I waited for you for ten minutes and you didn’t come out of the bathroom.

I played with your cats and your cats liked me.

I moved close to the bathroom and the door was open.

I asked if you were okay.

You said that you didn’t feel very good.

I asked if I should leave.

You said yes.

I looked into the bathroom and you were looking at yourself in the mirror with your hands holding the sink.

I walked past the bathroom.

I said that I hoped everything was okay and you didn’t understand me and I said that I hoped everything was okay and you didn’t say anything.

I left your apartment and I felt confused.

On the way home I felt really high on Xanax and morphine and I listened to my iPod at a low volume.

I reached out to you
You never replied
I could never reach you
Though i tried
To save this as a memory
In the category of good
Could this be an allegory
Of what should happen would?
I lied to my family and friends
And said you contacted me
I didnt want their pity
I just don't want that to be our end

"there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it’s too late
and there’s nothing worse
than
too late."

I begged you to stay but you left me for another lover. That night i felt more lonesome than alone. More pain than emptiness. Most sorrow than surviving the departed. It was not the last time, not nearly or by far, that you left me heart in hand and a broken man. You always come back to me and all is understood. You love me more than them. But this time I've been waiting five years for your call. I'm not lonely at all. Not sad or in agony because i know you. I know you want me and i know youll come when you're ready to be loved again.

I can't find a single picture of you. I often think if i had a gun idve done it long ago. I destroyed that computer, the one with all the photos. I already killed all my memories. All that remains are bare emotions. Words. I'm dying. Greener. Sam. Kings. There were so many nights that would be the end if i had a gun. There is nothing preventing it. Only hinderances like pain, fear and a bloody mess but that could all be solved with the perfect weapon of my destruction. Until the day that i perish i live as though i have inside for i have and I've nothing to live for. I traded my lust for a rush. A fix and now i hurt as without even with.

This friendship is broken and remains are smoking like wreckage. I remember when you thought you found god. For sure, i thought, the irony was not lost on me. It was too late, maybe, to imagine us together, relatively stable. I swear I'll feel brave someday, just not yet.

I was supposed to be beautiful. Something was lost to me in the vast whiteness that surprised me. Like a star lost to the light of the sun, innocence and optemism disappeared in the presence of real love. And once the sun set on that love the star could not be recovered among the millions of others. Innocence becomes experience becomes chastity and an unability to love again. An unwillingness to be hopeful for the future becomes rooted in an emotional attatchment to the past, lonesome for what its lost.

There is nothing worse than meaning nothing to the person who means everything to you. When they're the first thought when you wake up and the last before you fall asleep. Often they show up in your dreams. I know thats a clique but its true to me.

I thought of you today
Many times
Thought that i
Can make it
Up to you
With my fingers and tongue
I can make it up to you
With our hair tangled together
And my body absorbing
Your body
I can
Make it up to you
By dying a shitty death
And fucking off forever
I can make it up
To you

You wanted to be the big spoon for once in my room. I felt loved for the first time in my life. I cried that night after you fell asleep for i knew it would be the last time anybody held me lovingly. For i cry too much. And i don't give a fuck. My feelings are fleeting and you're feelings are fickle. Our bodies awake from the slumber of warmth. Your green eyes shot with tears. Already you forgot that you loved me before. Someday you'll wake up cold and lonely, reminicent about the past while me and my room have already left.

I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was but i just stood there. She always looked the best when she was breaking my heart. And i know i don't deserve this-to laugh and to cry and to breathe in her presence. Steady now. Mile per hour. Awkward, slow and steady down the steep hill to the ocean. Go. Glow. Thinking about her fingers. They will become scars. Haunting. They will become the stars. Theres nothing broken in this moment.

Once on a summers eve i was wandering aimlessly around the downtown whence i came upon an alleyway. Narrow. Red brick. Rain slipped. Ethereal. It lead to a series of alleys behind a bakery, and a barber shop, and a corner convenience. It was between this barber's and baker's buildings that the otherworldly alley appeared like a portal, not of space or dimentions, but of time and even more so, memory. It happened that a man was murdered here. Stabbed by a child, only 17. It was once a crime scene and also a night home to vagrants years before. It remembers countless couples stealing a kiss against the red walls and pressing each into the cracks and crevices, under the influence of lust, love and substances. Too narrow for cars but it recalls the bikes of boys buying bread for their families. These stories were told without a word on the walls as so often they become a canvas to the creative and the courageous, the space instead spoke for itself. For in its fragility and purity it was of this world, picturesque and yet common place.

As i sit here completely alone i am entirely transparent. I am a greenhouse filled with ghosts. I am unhappy and obviously in anger. I am myself malcontent and hold myself in contempt for the things i should have said and never did. I will let you go if you ask me to. My love is steady, baby, thats what i feel now. Lets call this exactly what it is; i want you back at any cost. I am opaque in my desires, often not entirely clear, i say things but always mean, i love you and i want you back underneath it all. You can be beams of light piercing my body and warming the air. Honestly i can't remember my teenage feelings but they seemed to be true. The who's are always there but the why's were unclear. But the complicated beginning and end to this never left me. I'm sorry it took me so long to come around. And what a big mistake it was to block you, the self doubt still keeps me awake. It keeps me close like a promise kept. I talk in my sleep. I'm sorry it took me so long.

I have dreadlocks of neglect
I have black eyes but not blinded yet
I have fragments left of intellect
But a like minded person i have not met yet
I still sleep on a sheetless mattress
I still smell you on my pillows
Which is cause to still call you my mistress
Which is why i now weigh 75 kilos

You bobby pinned your auburn hair back as we crossed over the new brunswick state line in my grandfathers car we were fleeing the scene of a nova scotia coast line. Where we buried our dreams among the gridlock and concrete. Bareful we pulled off the road and stepped into the summer night. And we drank greedily of greenery and open air.

Where did you live and what did you learn there? Leave my car parked on the lawn its been another year. Is this a dream or reality? Where do the pieces of our dreams recede? What of all the warnings from friends to stay away that i do not heed? I've been searching for this-something i can run away with. Its a danger, I've been warned, but i still stretch and try to reach it. We watch the world grow through window panes and screens we speak to, and they speak back. Where does the water flow when it leaves our home? Whenever, if ever i get my life together I'll decide what to think of all the years i spent in Halifax.

There are a few things i want to say besides i love you and i miss you. I want you to know that i know you didnt try to hurt me, that you tried to make me go home before i got hurt but i was blinded and drunk on being around you. I know you wont ever talk to me again, after what happened and I've come to peace with that. I just want you to have proof that i will love you for as long as i think and that i still think of you constantly. I don't know why i want you to know that, its a weakness in me i guess. Do you remember the day after my 19th birthday when i approached you as you sat on the grass? I have never been so nervous in my life. I already loved you. I can't remember what was said but i remember leaving you to go to prince hall. I hate myself for not staying with you as long as you'd stand me. I was trying to be cool i guess but i probably just came off as an asshole. Full of shit. You don't have to worry about me ever returning to nova scotia. My life there died with our love and i held on like an idiot for two extra years when i should have just left. I'm sorry for putting you through that. I still think of the night you, tori and i were standing on Plato's cave watching the sunset and when we left to go inside you slipped on ice and i didnt catch you in time. You were wearing beautiful heels and i saw the ice but i was just so happy to be with you i didnt think anything bad could happen to either of us. I sometimes think to myself that i was walking on clouds and you were never in love with me like i was with you, and you slipping was proof i didnt make you fly and that i could not be there for you combined. There are things i want to say like i quit smoking weed and drinking alcohol. I still smoke cigarettes and shoot opiates, mostly dilaudid, because they make me feel closer to you. I didnt really start smoking until i met you and i started doing opiates after i started missing seeing you like crazy and didnt have to try to be a role model for you to quit doing them. Thats something i really regret is trying to make you quit hard drugs. I was naive and self righteous at the time and i thought id seem stable or like a good guy if i told you to stop them but secretely i loved you more for doing them and now I'm addicted. What a fucking hypocrit i am. I hope to god you stayed on suboxone and you're staying clean. I think kyle is great for you and i can tell he really loves you but i don't want him to keep you in the same pattern of doing them forever. Now I'm all emotional. I just want the best for you and if that means you don't want to even look at this book thats for the best. I just couldn't stop myself. I know I'm probably the worst ex boyfriend or just ex friend you've ever had or heard of. I'm just really unstable and self loathing but i swear id never hurt you again like when i broke your window. Thats why i had to get out of halifax. Not because id ever hurt you again but because seeing how much you came to dislike me made me hate myself and i became really emotionally unstable as a result. I keep that note you left be before Christmas break in my wallet. I look at it so much its falling apart. I know now what it means, and I'm afraid I'm abusing the address you left me, and i call the phone number sometimes and hang up when i can't help myself. I find myself in these really dark places sometimes that i can only get out of by thinking about you. I don't think about the sex or anything. Just meals we had or that time we spent the afternoon drawing or smoking weed beside the dumpsters. Simple things that stuck. I honestly don't go 5 minutes without thinking of you. Its bad and since I'm left alone without friends to help me through it anymore its gotten much worse than it ever was when i was in halifax. At least there i could immerse myself in friends and my band and sharing music, going to eat new places, walking to the ocean. Anything, but here, i have one friend (not the one you saw on skype) and a family that resents my life and my failure at it. I don't work due to temporary illness the doctors can't diagnose but still let me be on disability. Its heartbreak but I'm too embarassed to admit that to anyone. I even had therapists in halifax and i tried one when i got back to ontatio but talking about it was just too difficult and too shameful. I never heard voices. Making that up was just my way of trying to get attention from my therapist and friends and you. The truth was that i was just extremely suicidal. I walked across the bridge from halifax to dartmouth almost every night thinking about hurling myself into the freezing cold water with rocks in my pockets to weigh me down. Or id just cross busy streets without looking, lean off rooftops that id climb on alone, scaling cliff walls or lying on the train tracks. Telling you this isnt a cry for help, doing it may've been but i didnt tell anyone what i was doing when i would be gone for hours at night. The truth is id often walk by your house or your window at alex hall, spending time across the street trying to look in. Hiding myself around corners of buildings like a criminal, like the lowlife i am. No, I'm telling you this because that all changed when i got home to barrie, i thought i thought about suicide alot then but once i got home i thought about it exponentially more, i just didnt do anything about it. I fantasize about my death almost as much as i think about you and often times i think of you and death in conjunction. I think about your death-about how i couldn't handle it. I think about a lot of major events that will happen to you. I think about your graduation and possible masters or law school. I think about your summer jobs and your first real career job. I think about your inevitable wedding day. Your first child. When you buy your first house. I think about someone in your family dying. Your brother and sisters growing up around you and going to school. I think about your mother and step father-how good people have bad things happen to them. I worry about them and the rest of your family. I worry about your grandmother that i met how she will pass away one day. I think about your dog (captain?) and his happy small world in your beautiful home and backyard. I get extremely jealous of your dog. I think about how you might make a life for yourself in Truro. Or somewhere else but how you'll return there every few months for the rest of your forseeable life. Sometimes i think about you doing simple things; shopping for groceries, sneaking a cigarette at night, meeting friends for coffee, finishing a paper on ancient greece. I think of you filing paperwork and driving with your mom somewhere. I think of you confidently kissing in public. I think of you hiding things like your black poetry notebook or boys numbers or something you stole and feel bad about. I picture you smiling in my minds eye or looking at yourself in the mirror. I imagine you checking the length of your hair, maybe getting bangs cut again. Sometimes i think of you having sex and it turns me on but i have no enthusiasm to masturbait to anything really. Thinking of you as such a lady as to elegantly please your man in whatever mannor you decide, there is no measure in this world great enough to say how much i wish that was me again, even for the briefest, fleeting moment. I consider myself the luckiest person in the world to have stolen as much time from you as i have and will never ask another thing of this universe for the rest of my life for it would be greedy of me to want something beyond what i have had. Needless to say i have not touched another girl (or boy for that matter), nor taken another lover to let one taint my love for you in the simplest ways, not for a second. It hurts me that i don't see you in every other girl that i see, but it makes me appreciate your unique beauty before any wonder or miracle in my experience. If i had seen a even the faintedt glimmer of you in another girl i still would never so much as think about doing anything about it-i know myself too well to have hopes for another love as pure and innocent as mine for yourself. This i know you've heard before and does not matter to anyone but myself, i know, i know. But part of my dreams it brings you comfort, knowing i will to be forever yours entirely. Then again part of me dreams you will find me when we're 80 and live our last years together in a golden slumber. One can dream but it is my opinion that those dreams only slow my love actualizing itself perfectly in our absense. I've come to believe that it is in its absense, where love truly can become its true form. The fact that you don't think of me fondly or at all is proof that your love for me was never true and as my love for you consumes my being it speaks to me to preserve it as it is, that one day when i forget all and everything, my heart will have rememberence of something true and great though my mind and body forgets. I have dreamt of flying to halifax and busing to truro to see your family as they were the day i left you at your house. I imagine everyone will be as they were that new year so long ago, that you'd welcome me and things could be the same or better. Sometimes my dream shows me the reality of what would happen, polite unwelcome and disgust, surprise and resentment. I really just wish to apologize to your parents for my immaturity and your mistreatment at my hands. I wish i could sleep in your old bed. See Gabrielle written on your old bedroom's wall. Hear someone who loves you say your name to me, casually. I wish i hadnt deleted all our friends off facebook and I'm glad i had at the same time. I wish someone would tell me how you were and yet i never want to talk to them again. Not because of you but because of who i was when i lived there. I was pathetic and desperate. Not that I've changed but no one can see me as i am here except my family. I am confident in my worthlessness and I am vocal in my depression. My life has one meaning and it is still to love you to my best ability, and thats my only ability. Its a debilitating love and thats no ones fault but my own. Before i met you i knew i hadnt loved anyone yet and thats why i was a virgin who had barely kissed a single girl. I knew i had to wait to fall in love because i knew i was a true lover in the most classical and pure sense of the word. I was optemistic that love would work for me and id marry and die with you but i was still preparing myself for this. I've always been prepared to love one person violently for the rest of my life. Its my one idealistic belief besides pacisfism, which is clearly less important to me than love, as for my threatened love-i punched an innocent person (for my own betterment and not for your sake, to be absolutely clear). Thats just one of many examples as to why i don't belong with you. My ideal of love is just beyond what any other person should be subjected to and it drives me crazy when I'm around you. Even 110 miles away I'm still unable to function in the real world because of how much i miss you. That isnt to say i blame you for anything, it just means I'm unfit for any relationships or friendships with anyone and my inability to take care of myself is further proof. I'm best off just living with my parents without any friends or change for the rest of my life in a boring town, not hearing from you, until i get my hands on a gun or get the balls to end my life another way.

Sometimes i look for hours at old pictures and letters you left for me. I couldn't get tired of seeing that familiar face and the letters of every note that make up the message. I love how you dot your i's and i can still hear your accent when you wrote those and home. I still drown in the curves of your green eyes. I still try to to find the meaning behind those old messages. I'm not likely to find comfort in either of those memories but I'm still trying to find peace in the little things that you called ours. Not sure what to make of it all, four years down the road with plenty more to go. I just wish i had more than one fucking letter, and that you didnt delete my pictures off of my computer. But all thats what i deserved. All i have left is all i deserve.

When i look into
Your real eyes I realize
The real lies you spun

This is not the time or place to address the emptyness of the life i chose. We both know i let you go to be happier than i could ever make you. The uncertainty about me was never meant to make you uneasily impressed. I guess its best that you are finished with the college where we met. And i really agree that that group of friends wasnt right for me. I know I'll never see you alive again but I'll make good on my promise to be there after the end. Thats something that i own- I've been thinking I'm friendlier to the deceased in the ground.

Before i met you i didnt know what it was to love. I had never felt insane. I had nothing to covet. I never stood outside a window in the rain. After i left you I've been living like a sailor. Isolated for months, my love left behind on the coast. Now my hearts buried in the ocean and my home is non existent.

I say yo more than hey or hi. I use peace more than goodbye. I describe affection with love rather than like. Id take a bus above taking out my bike. I text instead of call. I wear a large not a small. I prefer to listen to full albums over single songs. I am more often right than i am wrong. I do not play many video games alone. I spend most of my time at home. I don't read much but if i do its non fiction. Friends and family would say i care for diction. I am often in good health. It is uncomfortable to talk about myself.

Our time together was nothing more than tiny dots on an endless timeline. There is a fine line of difference between the time we were together and when we were just in close proximity. You know while i was out there i always put myself out there on that line for you. I made as many dots as i could on either side. Positive or negative my will was actively assure in defining my time out there with those moments of being with you or living without.

I'm trying to fill these pages as fast as i can so i can send this to you as soon as i can. But i can no longer fill the pages with any original idea so long after what has happened between us. There is nothing in my future but these sutures holding my broken heart together falling apart. I'm writing "i can" as much as i can to stay as positive as i can be. I can not tell if its working.

I fantasize that
You secretly had my child
And didnt tell me

All i can see is a tiny profile picture in my sent messages. Otherwise empty, that fixture is an ever changing portrait of what I'm missing in my life. Why can i see the sunspots in your eyes when you're inside? How am i still that something you put aside and forgot about. Die inside when i see the haircuts that you tried.

I have no inspiration, nor stimulation so i only write what i know too well. About my new life, theres nothing to tell. I still think about your little sisters calling you Elle. And how you were Gabby to all of our friends. Maybe if i followed their trends we could make amends. But to me you will always be Gabrielle until every ends.

You no longer hear the music when the lights go out. You say "wont you please forgive me". Now i no longer hear the music. I listen to our favourite songs as i try to fall asleep in the dark room-no one knows i weep for us forever and always but i no longer hear the music. I just cry with it in the backround because You no longer hear the music when you're with me. "Wont you please forgive me"

My instinct was to make you my own. When i had you entire to myself my instinct was to run away as far as i could, but never stop loving you. I was afraid of commitment, of boring you, of letting us down. Once i got a safe distance, roughly 1772 kilometers--1100 miles, i fell apart and i fell back in love with you. I sat in silence because i broke your heart. I punished myself because i let it fall apart. I waited for you to call, to write, to miss me. I'm still waiting.

He remembers how she used to say "I'm dying" so he would pick her up. He'd come running and twist his ankle on the stairs on the way up. When he got there she asked her room mate if she thought that he was cute. They walked back to his apartment and sleep together for the first few times.

I used to think that love was an ideal never to be achieved. You taught me love is an action. On my own i realized that to love means to miss with all your essence.

You took my friends with you
And i couldn't survive another day in Halifax
Now theres a hole in the map and a
hundred missing persons on my friends list
I had to delete to stay sane
I had to tear that hole in my brain
To stay sane i burnt every bridge
From moncton to nova scotia
To toronto and barrie and back
Who were those people i left on the other side
Nothing more than
Friends of friends i suppose

I fear
My vow
Solo love

For one
May or
May not
Live again

We take
Bitter medicine
So we heal
Bitter words

Always lie alone
So I
Almost die at home

Listen
Forever

To silence

This isnt about you
But i just can't get out of my head
How you used to call me a bull shitter
And a hipster
I argued that i was neither and i took slight offence
I used to get my back up
but the truth about it is
I wasnt being ironic
I was being pathetic

Lacing the pages of library books with medicine. Passing children on the street with cigarettes. Fighting with family members. Injecting with my loved ones in the next room. What else makes me want to kill myself. Looking at myself in the mirror. Showering twice a week. Hearing from you once a year. Flooding facebook with cries for help. So called friends stab me in the back. All i do is nothing, all day, every day. Eating other people's food. Really can't fall asleep because I'm remembering painful memories. Writing self pitying poetry. Masterbaiting to memory.

If you're reading this. Call me. Tell me what you think. 1-705-220-1481

In the future we will all speak at the same time when conversing about just about everything. You can tell me how vile i am while i sing your praises and we'll have better ways of comprehending every phrase so I'll understand what it is you're actually trying to express. And when we say "i love you" at the same time something will happen inside, like a chemical will be released-if we truly mean it. Sometimes i think of when we were together, like maybe something was missing that hasnt been invented yet. Something to stop me from acting with jealousy; Something to stop you from lying to me. Sometimes i look back at all the signs that you were going to leave me just to see if i die inside, again.

I have no other memories from that first year that don't involve or include you. I need to let you let me let go. I know you'll call me when you get sad and lonely. You only do because you know I'm always sad and lonely. Sad and lonely. If i wasnt so sad and lonely maybe you wouldn't call or think of me when you get sad and lonely at all. Then i wouldn't hear from you and get my hopes up. I could move on. Then maybe about other things in my life i could feel confident again. I could get my hope up and my chin up instead of getting doped up to forget it in my parents basement with a rope up around the lights. 

Crossing the street without looking

Leaning precariously over the railing smoking for the sake of smoking

These are some things that i do hoping that I'll die soon to get away from thinking about you

How could you haunt me with one word? And your body language. Its absurd to me that your facial expression could leave such an impression so long after. And your laughter it siezes me like it did then when the eve's breeze bent around your knees. And played with your skirt in the moonlight. You were a flirt, big surprise, but you knew when the time was right and you always smiled with your eyes.

We met
On my
Birthday
My greatest present
Was your presence
Hat to skirt
That
Black and white
Stripped shirt
That slight
Overbite
Slightly tilting
Beer bottle
Individual
Alone
But with
Someone you
Barely knew
We talked
Ethnicity
Names
Drink
Smoke weed
Sat on beds
Chairs
Your friend
Still there
Partied
As if
Thats a verb
Stood in circle
Smoke more herb
Passed out
Seperately
In beds
And bushes

That was the last time i felt anything. That was the last time i really knew who i was. Because for the first time i knew what my purpose was. For the first time i could do anything and it felt right. This is the last time that i hurt myself. This is the last time that i write about walking down to the ocean that night. In the frightening rain. That was the only time I've tried to kill myself. It was the last time that i felt anything. It was the last time i really knew who i was. Or am.

I used to be mad but now I'm just sad. How did you kill the love that we had? If i knew how to extinguish my love maybe id feel better. I'm trying to distinguish my emotions in these letters. But trying to channel my depression always leaves me with a long confession of love. You think i'd've learned my lesson. No heavenly ideals from above like a steadfast love are going to save me from this hell. My future is a certainty now of longing alone and everyone can tell. Theres no breaking this spell unless i decide to let her go. And to that notion my heart beats N-O-N-O.

You lit a fire under my ethics and morals. Buried my hopes and dreams in a pit with my dead frogs. I shattered the window we saw our future through when you told me "love you." I didnt know it was wrong but i felt guilt. I wanted you to be as confused as me but i only invoked fear. In retrospect everything's clear. Like when you said "I'm your girl" you meant "i know that I'm dear to you" not "you are my man". You meant "stay with me tonight" when you answered "i do" and "i said id marry you". "I don't want to talk" was really, "its over". And when you said nothing, you really meant it.

I called your parents house because i thought they might say your name on the voicemail. Its been so long since I've heard someone else say your name. And i miss and i love you, and it hurts to know that you don't. And i miss that cold stare and your excuse to your boyfriend for why I'm there. Who knew id feel this way about decisions i made four to five years ago. Did i ever apologize for breaking your window? You never said a word about my broken hearts or how many times i died those years ago. I havent died at all this year and i hate you for that. At least let me know if i can feel anything anymore. Id die to get your attention but i know you wouldn't come to the wake to see my last promise kept.

What is love. Something sent from above. What is love. make all of us fly, doves. What is love.
Is it parking your car around the block so you can walk/run with her in the rain. Is it walking circles around the campus thinking circles in you brain. Is it inventing rituals to seem interesting or somewhat insane. Is love all of the above or have i gone lame.

People talking too loud. Standing in a crowd. People standing too close. Lonelier than most. Couples kissing. Check pockets because you feel somethings missing. Want to go home. Check the time on phone. Band starts to play. Start to feel ok. Push your way to the front. Eyes on the hunt. Scratch leg with foot. Ash cigarette of soot. Make a friend. Stand near them until the end. They speak but can't hear a word. Only music can be heard.

You are the smoke as it escapes me and dissapates, that i pull to escape from the thought of you. You are the words on this page more naked than flesh. You are the closed eyes peacefully at rest. You are a blade of grass carefully collecting dew. You are, in your subtlety, my idle thought of you. You are the driveway on the morning after snow storm. You are the sweater and scarf left at my house and their warmth. My broken speaker. My guitar teacher. My pain meds. My bare bed. You are you when you peruse the smooth expanses of my skin. You are part of me when i feel without within.

Stripping my bed. Laying on bare matress. Pillows without covers. Limbs tangled with each other's. I eye you in periphery. I think before I act. In my mind, I finger tip toe up your arm. In my mind, i push hair behind your ear, golden brown in the dim lit room. I know you'll leave me soon to climb out the window of the bay and start your day with a lecture. Twirl your pen. Doodle our names in the margins of your lined paper, next to the date. You in your thick rimmed glasses, i think of sex and death and memory. I eye you in periphery sitting two rows ahead of me. I write observations on the scene; you twirl your pen, write notes within the margin, look and try to find me where i always sit, next to the collumn. The matress feels rough on bare legs. Chest, rise and fall with breathing. I can feel your heart beating on my arm, trapped under you. In my mind, i synchronize my heart and breathing to your's. In my mind, we're lying on the floor, breathing hard-out of breath, your eyes in mine. Smiling. You only smile after sex.

My desire to have you cannot be subdued. I spend most of my time alone in silence: Necessarily true. You used to dream of me every night frozen in fear. Of what? You cannot say for it is too near to my heart and you removed your ear. I will tell you dear of what I've been frozen in fear  of for the past five years. At first it was losing you and it partially still is. I was afraid that you'd leave me and after you did i was afraid that you'd die or that id change and not love you as i once did. I'm scared I'll forget you as you were and that i don't know you as i once did. I'm worried I'll never see or speak to you again. But most of all i know in my heart that I'll never love another as i have loved you: Necessarily true. But thats not what I'm scared of its the fact that my future is no longer uncertain. I think we welcome death and the unknown but what scares me most is the inevitably lonely life that I'm already living.

Posts from wednesday 26 go from newest to oldest. All posts after 26th of march are correctly posted old to new. I hope you somehow found this darling.

I'm sitting on the couch that you drew on with the instant coffee that you brewed for me in the mug with your name in the heart. This is not a specific memory. Its more a feeling like those times that you let yourself in and crawled into my bed late at night. Its all the days we spent cuddlings after fights when we would both admit that we were wrong. And when you left it was like those bar fights came back. Reading the letter id been expelled. It was like your friends whispering behind my back. Or reading that text that you meant to send to your ex boyfriend.

In your bedroom late at night, it is dark, the only light spills in from the moon through the curtains covering your window, behind your bed. When i look strait at you my eyes blur out your face into a blank slate of darkness. To the left and right in contrast, the room is lit in pale twilight; a sharpness in shades of gray. So I'm using my peripherals to analyze your face as we whisper secret future plots involving unborn infant, Max. I'm always watching where you're looking without looking directly at you. I am focused on the space, now, between your shoulder and the bedpost, three inches above the hair resting upon your cheak or nose. I can see you're getting tired, not lifting your head to speak even when your excitement speeds your voice and rubs your feet. I can tell i have bad breathe by the way you blink your eyes and i can tell you could care less by the way you kiss me back. I can still see your face in the space where the chandeleer is and i can see you smiling in the corners of my bedroom. We still speak in hushed voices so our room mates wont listen to our super secret missions to teach Max the alphabet backwards.

For all your efforts of friendly small talk has left me sadly wanting for a full conversation about all your new admirations and your disgust in the world news with Al talking about the battle of the west bank. If i could pick your brain I'm sure id hear the same old save ol' palestine. You always shared those views of mine but this time you pass off the topic in sweet silence. You leave me to talk amongst my friends and you return to the table, to your boyfriend. And i excuse my awkwardness to those who had to witness this shaking sweating and the shameful way i avoid your eyes and all theirs too. I just miss the way you held my hand. Fingers crossed that that movie would never end. We'd walk down to the ocean or to the terminal with arms wide open hoping you would come back soon with frogs and drugs or a lack thereof. How could it matter? This world would be better off if you didnt get what you want all the time. You're always right and I'm not right for you. But I'll burn my bridges to get your attention. I'll skip my classes so you wonder if I'm sick or scared of moving on and maybe email me about being friends again. Lets get coffee. I know you daily drink like 5 cups lately. Theres this palestinian place around the corner. The owner writes a newspaper about his homeland. You're welcome to take one home and use it on your pet chinchilla when you're done reading about his family's fares. You're response caught me unawares you said absolutely nothing and then closed the conversation. I had more to say like sorry sorry hi how are you god i love you and your smile. I havent seen it in a while now you're so distant. You're so used to smoking my cigarettes that you ask for them from my friends. Go find your own friends and get a life in the city so i can spend my time worrying about when youll return or call me crying or just drunk dialing to get back at your boyfriend for ignoring you when you were talking about palestine.

You are the green of the leaves, you are the sway in the trees. The attention that pain commands, the grace of a bee as it lands upon a flower pedal. You are unspeakably still, in that you are an uncompromising will. I am the brown of fallen leaves, i am the naked branch of trees. As my outstretched arms scratch upon the sky funnel clouds of impending storms conceal the sun.

We were the only ones to use that old fire escape. We came and went and we sat and smoked. Sometimes we'd fool around and chase each other up and down. Thats where i lost my traveling pen and where we climbed on top of the bay. Thats how you got in when i locked you out. Thats how we got in when i lost my cardkey. Where we got busted by the patrol police. Thats where we brought our instruments and read textbooks aloud playing hacky sack in the back. Somewhere somebody spraypainted "go home".  A black metal backyard for those purgatory souls.

I remember sitting in your kitchen watching you at your best a girl at rest. How you couldn't find the cork screw so we just used a knife and how you read the label in fluent french. Your accent was so nice that i imagined us in Paris ten years later husband and wife. You were pregnant with our first, you'd call it max or phillipa, boy or girl, about to burst. And i recall the text you sent me when you typed out just my name twenty times it all rhymed. A desperation unsustained.

Everything I've ever done and said has led up to this moment and what am i doing but sitting in bed, dwelling on the mistakes ive made and writing a song about who i once was and who i will to be. Theres something missing now In my memory of who i was last september so I'll replace it with who i tried to be. I imagine myself as i should have been but what was said and what should have been has me stuck in the in between of presently dwelling upon the past. And something is missing now in my fantasy for the five year plan of the future me. If i can't settle down i will never be free to become myself as I've always seen the adult me with a family an education and a job. I have to act now but I'm missing motivation or whatever drives those late nights.

Sometimes when I'm walking these words pop in my head. They arent music yet or a sentence that makes any sense. Its like paraphrasing feelings mixed with something you said. If only i could remember these words escaping hence.
But I'll be home soon with plenty to do to take my mind off of it. Theres nothing you can say that will change the way that i think of you. Somethings that you said are replaying in my head darling stop it. And I'll be home soon with a cresent moon that i stole for you.

Time and time again i am sitting in bed. Early afternoons spent thinking of you. I write what i can recall and the things that only happen in my head. Am i dead? Because you said till death do us part. I truly wish for a swifter end in my heart. But time and time again i write what only happens in my head. I start to picture myself searching for your house. I don't know the number but I'm on your street. My best friend is with me. Lets go get our girls, we say. Its urgent. It has to happen today. We wander past the grocery store and into the industrial district. Its impossible that we'd miss it with love as our compass as we stand upon the steet. Our feet now unsure in heavy boots. We ask those we greet but our love is our compass and we re on the right street we just don't know the number. I'm thinking of what to say when i finally find you. Gabrielle, i want to save you from your insecurities. I can be that home that was never filled by your family. I know you don't trust men but i will never leave you. We can be together the ideal of whatever we do. Love you.

Princess of small town suburbia the winds rise and fall at your knees. The ocean's tides swell at your word. Birds race from tree to tree for thee. Your majesty decrees that space collide thus the winds rise.

There is unfolded clean garments strewn across your floor. The pants that i bought you hanging on the door. We re out of cigarettes so you sent me to the store. I'm Walking back alone in the rain whispering your name to the second story window (pane). Now I'm waiting to be let back into your wing. The anticipation of seeing you inspires me to sing. First nobody not even the rain then the promise ring. You let me into the hallway then stop me in the doorway to say. The floor of my room is lava.

We were in the kitchen eating appetizers and cooling off your parents wine in the snow outside your sliding door. Hours before we were kissing in your parents car steaming up the windows while your mom was in the store. I had waited at the hospital while you finished cleaning. I took the early bus even though you told me to wait until the evening. I told the front desk i was there to see my dying grandfather but i would wait for my mother and father before checking in. Hours later you came in and we embraced in the enterence with the sliding doors. You were happy to see me but annoyed i didnt wait till the evening because your family was cleaning for me. I couldn't wait i said and kissed you on the forehead like i always did when you were annoyed. Besides i said i got to see where you grew up. I walked to your house but didnt knock. I saw the pond and the downtown strip and the hospital you went to when you or your sisters got sick. Everything i write is a ramble about the past. Of my hearts ancient bondage to that which does not last.

You told me not to call you by any other name than your own but you are still my penelope. My beatrice. I am waiting in a wine red sea of despair longing for my home. I am dying alone with my poetry. You are in ithica and the nine rings of paradise. You were my wife the second you said i do. What was i to you? Am i your dante or odysseus. Do you miss me now that I'm called away to war? Do you know my dedicated poetry exists for my never mine mistress? Do you know what I've been fighting for? The right to love you in our absence as my ideal as if we had each as the others pathway to paradise.