Se La Vi

What makes a person run from someone they like?

Can it be boiled down to a simple answer?

A man likes a woman. That woman is interested in that man. But if he shows too much attention to her, the woman becomes disinterested.

I remember hearing of much simpler times growing up.

A man likes a woman. He stops all his plans, goes to work to provide for her, they get married and have seven kids.

Modern day women seem to play a game of disregard. Granted, the game of "cat and mouse" has been around for centuries, these women truly seem to want what they can't have and throw away what they can.

How does time continue to complicate and simplify life at the same time?

"Us"

Some day, I'm going to marry you,
And teach you all my bad ways,
And you'll help me on my bad days,
And I'll get you out of your sad phase,

Because we belong together,
We'll grow strong together,
We'll take trips,
We'll sync lips,

We'll mesh like wire
Unconventional,
Unintentional,
Understanding fire,

Serendipitous,
Inconspicuous,
The one and only "us" to trust.

2012 Woman

My voice is quivering as I try to be a man.
I stumble through the door to who I am.
The clothes I wear are bare, lacking color or flare.
I'm honest and open like a book in your hands.
Please, I pray, you listen to my plans.
We can go find a place far away,
with rivers,
with mountains,
where our children can play.
Our life will be lived a humble way.
We will give thanks for our food and pray everyday.

Dear Future Wife

Thank you...
...for being my friend.
...for listening when I'm quiet.
...for caring when no one else does.
...for being honest.
...for loving me through my selfishness.
...for making me laugh.
...for helping me when I fall and pushing me when I stall.

You are my greatest company and always have a place next to me.

State of Mind

Tennessee, I've been quiet for so long. My words have been short and my thoughts have been fervent.
I know you'll listen, I just don't have the words to share. I hope you see the joy you bring. I hope you seek that same. Don't settle for less and don't worry about the mess.

Illinois, keep steady. You're on the right track. Keep close friends and rarely will you lack. Remember that cities can swallow people whole. Stress inevitably takes its' toll. Priorities are the golden rule and it's always ok to request a stool. Standing's fine but eventually you'll redline.

Texas, be kind. You're unforgettable but not always for the characters you want. Be honest, to yourself and others. Each day is a blessing, each relationship, a gift. Glass shatters frequently on long trips. Bubble rap helps. It's ok to find your bubble rap. Use it, don't abuse it. All walls fall. Don't build yours too tall. The best craftsmen have calluses and happiness isn't measured by ounces.

Omelette of Memories

You're closer than a friend
yet I held you at arms end.
I longed for our perfection
and hung myself on this perception.
Your face is stuck in my head
and all the words that you said.
About the moments we had,
both the happy and the sad.
I remember our growling tummies
and how the noises were funny.
We always worked up an appetite
from those long sleepless nights.
I wish I had recorded
the first time you farted.
Your face was so innocent
and I never did mention it.
You cared for me like nothing I've ever known,
as if I finally found my chimney home.
My heart for you to hold,
my loneliness bid and sold.
Exchanged for Sunday lit mornings
and the occasional snoring.

We were two eskimos spooning,
laying warmly in your bed.
Tomorrow always looming,
leaving lots of things unsaid.

I wish I would have told you
about the demons in my head.
Instead I let them brew
and watch confusion get fed.

Not sure if I should remember or forget,
I'm trying to learn without regret.
I put these memories on the shelf
and look at them when I doubt myself.
Days now are hard and hectic,
forgetting when times were scenic.
We used to talk for hours
and stay together even in showers.

You caught me broadside
that night at the party.
I sang and I cried
with my composure left faulty.

You hit me, hard right
the night of our fight.
You called me furious
but I was unconscious.

I woke up reviled,
tattered and maimed.
We reconciled
but it just wasn't the same.

I held on to that pain
to remember its name.
To hold it by the throat
and have it to quote.
So it never came around
and it caused me to drowned.
I held on with all things weighted
my failure I had already fated.
I say this now looking back,
it wasn't perfection that we lack.
I was afraid it would end just like my past.
Life would happen and it wouldn't last.

Burn It Down

Kerosene, gasoline, the fire starts here. Light the match that burns hotter than the anger from the year. These are the days when stones are placed for walking and walls are made for blocking. Say the words that we take to the grave when it's too late for our souls to save. The bridge creaks and groans as it bellows its last goodbye. The winds from the heat whisper a sweet sigh. It's over and done and terrifying to see. I only wish in the end it was me. These flames, vicious, your acts, malicious. Not fire with fire just sick of this mire. No need to come back, the crossing is gone. With my head up high, I look toward the dawn.

Four Days

Stay up late, contemplate. It's been four days and still I ache. Check my phone, check my mail, check my mind and then exhale. No happiness. Guilt, blame, and bitter pain. It hurts. It's not the same.

Contradistinction of Adoration

Contusion, confusion, no conclusion, a freight train of pain. Love falls like rain, washing away worries, miniscule flurries, like the old stories. It feels impressed and preserved with the seal of years of Clark Gables and fairy tale fables. Til thunder strikes and pikes the spikes of divorce and diverge, of difference and distance. We run like ants, everything to fear, losing everything we hold dear.

I am insane, inane, sick of games. I want you happy, you make me sappy. I want you content, you make me resent. I am deranged, drained, and proclaimed. I am vivacious, audacious, and free. This is what you make me.

Fireworks in September

Fireworks in September change everything about the season, every previous notion. The colors fill my soul with passion. Explosions of red shimmer, light up the darkness with zeal of love and lust. Orange and yellow flares fly by like spontaneous and sporadic pleasures life often reveals when we least expect. Some are staggering but short lived while others blaze across the sky like the longest shooting star. Dark blue bulbs fire off like cannons of dull ache and longing but quickly dissolve into the heavy black canvas. But with every color, emotion, heart break or heart wake, there is a constant sign of light accompanying. The white lights flood the sky with clarity, purity, and possibility like the intensity and brilliance of ignited magnesium.

Though the lights are passing, this clarity is lasting.

Park Bench

Love seems to come and go more frequent and in shorter duration. People on the sidewalk pass by holding hands while I eat my string cheese and apple alone quietly on the park bench. It's a beautiful day but seems to be bogged by sadness.

As I walk to class I catch a glance of a girl walking toward me. Suddenly I feel the need to pull her aside and spill my thoughts. Playing the scene in my head, I imagine she recognizes my thoughts as if they were her own and she is so glad I jumped on the sporadic gumption.

She walks by and I, eyes to the ground, smell her perfume. Inhaling regret, staying quiet but know the pain of speaking up, reaching out, and opening. Some day... someday might never come.

Unclear which inflicts the most change, regret or the pain of loss. Or possibly the loss of pain and regret when life starts to change for the better.

Cry

My nose starts to tingle. I feel my eyes swelling hot and cheeks warm. My emotions crash onto my heavy face, broken. The water pours from my eyes like a salty faucet and yet my lids are clenched shut, mouth open, teeth exposed. Saliva strings like a web as I pant my gallon drum lungs. My body exhausts itself onto the floor as if I had tripped into a dark hole. My mind is blinded by wet blur. I seem to repeat the same phrases over and over, each time growing more passionately, raspy, and rough.

Time is only understood with a pulsing headache and worn expression. The arms and legs lay limp with short convulsions from gasping air. Yawn.

Anguish freezes involuntarily.

I exhale feeling expended, my will for contentment going out with my breath. My sleeve is lined with dark streaks where I wiped my nose like I did as a child. Skin shades of flesh and red pattern the outside of my eyes from tightly held mien. 

Once ashamed, now exposed to all the pain that was enclosed.

Warm Fiction Fixation

The outside is hushed by falling snow. Flake by flake we are tucked in for this winter night. White blankets glow blue from the deep and distant moon. 

The fire is warm, the smell of oak entices us. It crackles and pops to entreat our attention. But the only notice I give it is of the flickers of amber in the reflection of your eyes. I can not look away.

Your skin is soft, tenter to the touch. I bury my face next to your ear to say nothing. Silent kisses in the dark dim light. Your hair tickles my nose but releases a sweet aroma. The same fragrance that seems to wander behind you every time we cross paths.

The sight of you, studying each of your features in such intimacy, fills me with contentment. My heart is a ruby red like the luminescent embers from the fire. My heart radiates warmth throughout my body, from head to toe. I cover your icicle toes with mine like a heated blanket. You cuddle yourself gently into my chest like two halves finally making a whole. We stare at the wild flames as they dance all night long casting shadows on the walls. And I hold you, there in my arms, drifting fast asleep.

Victim

I have been hurt. I have been wounded. The sword was not my own. The sword was not in my hands. I was not armed. I was not a threat. Yet I bleed.

I bled.

I am vindicated of all victim mentalities. Time passes in signs of a scar. I can not hide the mark and I do not boast on it. Stay away and do not speak at me. I now wield the heartbreaking motions as I have seen.

Misery

I'm all out of tears, nobody to cry for
but a boy with a bottle and his foot on the throttle,
The sun will be rising in the east. The dust, settling in the west.
Soon I'll be done, misery, my father, me, his son.

Self-destructive

I see it coming in the distance. The day is clear, my sight is blind.

You beat your head against a mirror. Ironic or appropriate?

I stand in this sinking sand waiting for you to stop and turn around. Ironic or appropriate?

Proving a point never felt so meaningful as it does now. Saving a soul just before you loose your own. It's the principle. 

I see only in the color of love. Ironic or appropriate?

September

Filled with magnificent disaster. Your presence is heavy and hard to ignore. Ten days in and you're born, one more and you're torn.

You say God toys with you, I, moving lifelessly like a marionette. I say play the game. Be the girl you want to be. See the things you want to see.

I see destruction, at least for now, I see heartache.

The Darkness

Under the cover of night and many dark shadows we go out into the world as the nocturnal animals our habits have created us to be. The clanking silverware against the clay plates sent chills up your spine. You were quiet, holding your peace for a few moments more, then unleashed.

The dishes were cleaned, the apartment was vacuumed. I took out the trash, you made the bed. You locked up while I fetched the car. Two blocks down and to the left, three flights up and on the right. We drove miles away and with each mile, buried our past. I did not argue any longer. I had no energy. I did not know. I was blinded by naivety as you knew.

As I fall asleep I see our hide-out on Lamar. It's not far, but enough for you to get your mind off the people that hold you back. There's a psychedelic Jimi hovering over as you order the same as many times before. All I do is watch and smile. All I can do is watch and smile. The table between us is hardly what stops me. Your fear of others opinions pushes my back roughly up against the vintage 70's pleather. I am pinned by your vigilant thoughts of those around us.

Blind. We talk, we jest, we make it a pleasant moment for a difficult situation. I kiss you on your soft sensual lips and tear myself apart from you, leaving just a frayed edge. You retreat back to your forest of concrete and steel, the wolves are waiting. I leave but am alone. I am in darkness and alone.

Cowgirl

...in the sand,
pack your things, saddle up your horse, eat well tonight for tomorrow will be a long ride, over mountains with snow and valleys with rivers.

The season is right. The birds are singing our farewell and the sun is shining a path towards our future.

Follow close behind cowgirl in the sand. The world is easily deceiving and quickly depleting of originals.

An Anniversary

If only. If only it had come. If only we'd of lasted. If only we were wiser.

I could hear the trumpets playing to welcome us in but they were all too distant. I could smell the evergreens on the other side but they were all too faint.

You said I was too young. You doubted my sight of the decades that would soon present themselves to us. The years would become isolated like 1950's commercials had shown for years. Although I was a dreamer, I admit, I saw reality. You just needed to take into consideration that the reality in which I saw was also glazed with a cherry red finish.

You are not a dreamer. You are a Realist. A Realist so explicit that you get lost in the simplicity of  reality. Of the fact that people do live happy together, people do truly love each other once in a while. People do finish their years happy. The band is there to play for them, for us. If only we're their to hear it.

If only.