I just can’t give you my word that I want kids I said, in the quiet air between four blue eyes and a tension so high, you could’ve reached out and touched it with your fingertips. the same fingertips that touched my skin so innocently the day before, tracing across my cheek, behind my ear, behind my neck. the same fingertips I wanted to know a decade ago when I sat at a desk in a classroom and you taught my younger mind new things, as I scandalously dreamt of kissing you, not knowing one day I really would and then I’d ruin it by sharing a piece of my heart I just can’t give you my word that I want kids when did dating get so cut and dry? your lips that tasted of tea, your blue eyes, your sweater to match, imagining your fingertips tracing my bare hips as we parted ways I wish the best for you
8:53 pm • 16 March 2022 • 1 note
if I had known on that day at a coffee shop on Belcourt Ave that I was going to meet a coward of a man, I would have just stayed home. I stood my ground, I held my head up, I agreed to one date. one date, then two dates, then three dates, then I found myself a month later, kissing him goodbye under a streetlight outside the baseball stadium with butterflies in my belly and a stupid grin on my face. I know I’m leaving but I’ve really enjoyed being with you and I hope we can stay in touch, I nodded and never lost my footing, I kissed him and I let him hold me and if I had known on that night that I was going to be held by him and lied to for the last time, I would have just stayed home.
1:29 pm • 28 May 2021 • 3 notes
he is in a relationship. i stare at my screen and watch the last few moments between us from last August replay before my eyes and reread what i just read in a relationship.
when someone holds you so gently, loves you so firmly, then shuts off and leaves you cold and alone for days just to come back and hold you so gently again. when someone manipulates you into feeling things they won’t let themselves commit to. when you work so hard to solve the puzzle of him and then you see in a relationship.
what was so wrong with me
9:30 pm • 5 November 2020 • 3 notes
I breathe in the taste that makes me think of him, the white and green piece of glass in my left hand and a bic lighter in my right, sitting on my front stoop alone under the street light at 11 pm. I let it fill my lungs then I lean my head backwards, naturally arching my back, as I watch the smoke swirl from my lips into the chilly October air. you need to call it off my head tells me as my body begins to feel lighter you need to make sure he knows you don’t love him like he loves you my head is lecturing me as my lungs fill up again and don’t let him make any more plans for your life together as I slowly exhale and melt my body into the cement
this is going to hurt
5:27 pm • 18 October 2020 • 3 notes
a voice from a song I remembered from eleven years back in a school bus seat with your blue eyes sitting to the right of my blue eyes… four blue eyes. from a song I remembered from nine years back, a road trip to the coast with your hand on mine resting on the center console of your 1997 Toyota. from a song I remembered you sent me at 1 am on a Friday before I moved into my college dorm in north philadelphia.
that voice, a lifetime later, sings new words to me in my home in Tennessee, with you 862 miles from my doorstep, laying with the woman you made a promise to. that voice, that was once familiar as we took on our lives hand-in-hand, the voice from that song swing life away, that voice took me away from this brick home on the corner of 10th and S Douglas in Tennessee, back to us sitting on a hay bale on the back of a trailer with our arms intertwined in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania.
two kids who didn’t know they’d never find that kind of love again. the voice with the power to take me back.
10:03 pm • 17 October 2020 • 2 notes