just like I remember

This is the last day of April.

Summer is coming up. I'm afraid I have too high of expectations for it. But maybe they're not so high after all. I think, though, that this will be the best summer yet. I sincerely hope so, at the very least.

I mean, summer is all about intangible things. That feeling in your chest when you're riding your bike late at night. The sun kissing your face and shoulders. Being able to just feel that new layer of tan sinking into your skin. Grass between your toes. Freedom.
At least, that's what summer is to me. Then again, it's just another one-fourth of another year.

Fake Palindromes

I could watch you sleep forever. Watch your chest rise, your eyelashes flutter, your face contort into a pout.

exhaustion, pure and complete

Only 36 days.

Dry Lips

Last night I stood on the top of the earth with you. Maybe it was technically just the highest level of a parking garage, but the wind was making our eyes water and the city below us looked so small that it might as well have been higher than anyone had ever been before.

With my hair in my eyes and your hand in mine, any doubts I had mulled over feverishly the night before vanished, while I counted your freckles and stored your smile against the setting sun in a box inside my heart.

I can't sit still

I am hoping that my words will soak through your skin;
from my brain to my veins to your fingertips
I am hoping that your eyes will read the message traveling from mine;
transform into something you can comprehend.
I am hoping that your kiss will absorb these things I've said;
your lips molten, as I pray that my message slips into them
All the same,
I am not brave enough to do anything but hope.

Goodnight, moon

Last summer, I spent a lot of time on my roof, with a comforter and an iPod dock and a paper filled with hardly thought-out scribbles and doodles. I rarely spoke to anyone on those nights. I imagine that my eyes were filled with the wonder of the stars and the moon and the planets, all aligned in a way that only comes around every thirty days. This was an activity I have not ever gotten sick of. I don't imagine I ever will. Sometimes, if the trees are just black enough, and the sky looks enough like Van Gogh's most acclaimed work, and your eyes are opened wide, well, it will knock the breath out of you.

And although you're not as enthusiastic at sharing this experience with me as I am, I'll show you. Just wait.

Childrens' books

"My knees are shaking"

"Are you cold..?"

"No."

Black Clouds

I bet Patrick Dempsey is a real asshole. He's not even attractive. Shit. I don't understand why the same movies keep being made over and over (more or less) and released with tons of hype. Stupid media.

I've got better things to be talking about, but I just don't feel up to it right now. I have to go to work in half an hour. It will, without a doubt, be terrible.

bills to pay

I finished rereading Twilight today. It took longer than I expected. It's such an unrealistic book. For some reason, though, it makes me happy, and it's well-written and I like it. So there. I guess I am a typical teenage girl. But you already knew that.

My face really itches. I have bad skin. Woe.

I have nothing interesting to contribute this evening. I feel crappy and it's affecting everything, I'm afraid. Not emotionally. Emotionally I'm fine. Physically I am weary.

Meh.

Blatant symbolism

I dreamt a cougar took your life, and I wept for all the things I'd never said

Blatant symbolism? I think so
But I've never suspected my REM of being subtle

You know,

I could have done it
I could have told you today

But instead I traced the words into your back with my fingertip as you slept

I could have sworn

you were going to say something more.

I look up at you sometimes and I can't believe how beautiful you are. I want to freeze time and live with your eyes in mine for a week, a month, a year.

I closed my eyes to make a wish

but it was already 11:12

The only world I can think of is "foreboding"

I have an awful feeling in my stomach. Everything that happens makes it worse. It's growing, gnawing at my insides. I think disintegrating them would be more accurate. I don't understand; I've had a good day, I got a book and I spent time with friends and my illness is finally fading.

I can't think of anything else to write. My hands are trembling.

My mind's only playing a trick on me, but I can't shake it off.

welcome to april

i stood motionless before the mirror
as always, i stayed until i'm convinced that there is no glass, nothing, separating me from the room i see on the other side
i imagine that everything is different over there;better
there are people, in that world, that i would like
but, like always, my hand his the glass

i know that if i'd only waited one more second.

-jcv