Winter break was this long, but it felt like so long and I couldn’t wait to see you. But now three months have gone by and everything seems fine. And I kind of don’t want to see you in case I keep falling for you while you might be in love with her, in case out of our friendship comes frustration as I try to balance the glow of our conversations with pretended purely platonic interest. (I’m not particularly guileful. Do you notice my poor acting and think I make a fool out of myself?)

My memories with you come back more often than most, probably because they are supercharged with emotion. Although I look back on those times with happiness, they may fan too high those flames of hope.

Three weeks. A year ago I didn’t know you or any of these people. (I didn’t know how strange and gnawing it is to compare yourself to a world of brilliant, ambitious, often seemingly flawless people your own age.) Hundreds of faces and names and brief encounters…what will they bring?

Generation I

Man in himself spied Light,
flickering, sputtering,
choked under greedy hands
only to resurface, intact
but tainted with fear:
was this Darkness

the bad things came
evil people, evil deeds
or so he told himself
as kindness was met with
reproachful jealousy
cruel words mingled
with the indifference of the beloved

Man cried,
scrabbling away from Fate
as he interpreted it,
Fate who would have him
commit horrors that would
merit the otherwise
inexplicable, in his words,
trials plaguing him

Woman in Man spied Light
clung to him as she fled
evil people, evil deeds
and found hope with him
as did he with her
neither to foresee
Fate’s true face

and as Man grew
he embraced Light as Light
until it blinded his
too eager, too wounded
eyes that had seen
Injustice as had other eyes,
all eyes, yet magnified
the human experience
into undeserved disgrace

Man in himself spied Light
cultivated it in wonder
and foolishly worshiped the gift

but Light does not protect Man
from misfortune
nor does it spare him from
evil people, evil deeds
for with Light comes Pride—
the fatal, Fated
curse of Man


my hipbones crack when i walk
snap back and forth

trace the sound
too soon lost,
buried among bones

maybe this is
(the) decay
(they cry about)

but the clock comforts,
only audible in the calm
of clear thoughts

tick tock
the soft rhythm
measures my pace

i wonder if
they can hear it


IMG_7416s (by Curlylocks)

there is a woman in China holding a black umbrella so she
won’t taste the salt of the rain when the sky begins to weep,

there is a 17 year old girl who smells like pomegranates and has summer air tight on her naked skin, wrapping around her scars
like veins in a bloody garden, who won’t make it past tomorrow,

there is a young man, who buys yellow flowers for the woman
in apartment 84B, who learned braille when he realized she
couldn’t read his poetry about her white neck and mint eyes

there are people watching films,
making love for the first time, opening mail with the
heading of ‘i miss you’, cooking noodles with
organic spices and red sauces, buying lemon detergent,
ignoring ‘do not smoke’ signs, painting murals
of his lips in abandoned warehouses, chewing
the words ‘i love you’ over and over again, swallowing
phone numbers and forgotten birthdays, eating
strawberry pies, drinking white wine off of each
others open mouths, ignoring the telephone,
reading this poem

someone is thinking
i’m alone
someone finally understands
they never really


(via wwwsally)

(Source: irynka, via takethe-plunge)

"I wonder how many times you compared me to her."

(via peering)

(via lifechangersinc)


untitled by ALEX S.F.C. on Flickr.
"Decide you want it more than you are afraid of it."

Bill Cosby  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege, via takethe-plunge)