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.