cinematic, razor sharp

You’re cinematic, razor sharp
A welcome arrow through the heart
Under your skin feels like home
Electric shocks on aching bones

How rich in contrast
Love can be
Sometimes I’m quite amused
To see it twist and turn
To taste both sweet and dry
These vintage years
Lovers you consume, my friend
As others their wine

I’m broken open
Fragile heart, tapered kiss
I hate missing you
Wondering what you’re doing
All the while correctly suspecting
That you don’t give a fuck.

(my own journal)

I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star
To pray on, or wish on, or something like that
I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy
Whose reality I knew, was a hopeless to be had
But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag

Goodbye my almost lover, goodbye my hopeless dream
I’m trying not to think about you
Can’t you just let me be

So long my luckless romance, my back is turned on you
Should have known you’d bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do.

*Lyrics – in order: Snow Patrol (You’re All I Have), Radiohead (Bitter Sweet), Fiona Apple (Paper Bag), A Fine Frenzy (Almost Lover)


rainy heart.

I was talking with a friend who said that his best days, with euphoric highs, are met with rather grim and lonely days the day after. I believe this to be true. There was (is?) a certain man, with whom I spent an amazing 13 straight hours with on Saturday until 4:00 am on Sunday. In the monsoon, bunkered up, then out, then in. Reminiscing, reconnecting, rediscovering, and talking talking talking… The soul-bending kind you never want to end. Never boring. Never wanted to break the spell. Maybe he didn’t either. Was this beautiful man I’ve known for almost five years a kindred spirit who I’d somehow overlooked and relegated to friend territory? Or just another pal who happens to be fun to make out with? I’m terrified to think of anything else. After flirting coyly for ten hours he asked permission. He’s polite. One word only: ELECTRIC.

You know, when Rolfe gives Leisl her first kiss. In the rain. Of course. I fucking love that feeling. Anything is possible.

Today’s the antidote to that day. I discovered that my big-time ex has a new girlfriend or something similar, and also that my ex-best friend has unfriended me on Facebook (don’t know when she did). It’s also still raining – funny how the rain can be romantic and beautiful and somber the next day. My heart is full of gloom. I’m sentimental and embarrassed. That’s me – always breaking and mending. And I’m still waiting…

an ode to heartache

What a shame, I’ve become such a fragile and broken thing
I poured myself to you and you thoughtlessly spilled
I have no respite, no recourse
The worst has happened, I’ll mend from here.

I’m a violent sensual sensitive girl.

They say that anything can be replaced
Find another girl to pass the days
She’s beautiful, she has your face
There is nothing time cannot erase…

(As Tall as Lions)

If a person has not reached the level where she has a sense of I-ness rooted in the productive unfolding of her own powers, she tends to idolize the loved person. She is alienated from her own powers and projects them into the loved person.

The bearer of all love, all light, all bliss.

In this process she deprives herself of all sense of strength, loses herself in the loved one instead of finding herself. Since no person can live up to the expectations of her idolatrous worshiper, disappointment is bound to occur.

(From Girl in Need of a Tourniquet by Merri Lisa Johnson)

Yes, I’ll get over it eventually.
Maybe even soon.
But that doesn’t make it hurt any less right now.

milk sky

I prefer the sky when it’s the color of milk
with a drop of ink mixed in. I admit:
I am lonely.
Giving up seems like the easiest way
when my heart breaks and mends in a
thousand ways every day.
My troubles are lost on you
like the brightest balloons drifting
upward, and away. diminishing
You never cared
Or really paid much attention
And again I relish in the exquisite pain of
your perpetual rejection.

I play “Foolish Games,”
Jewel has a Swiss face and likes the color of
wine, probably writes songs on napkins like
you used to draw on at restaurants
back when we belonged together.
this isn’t what it should feel like.
I wait constantly and patiently
for the smallest reward, faithful as
your dog.

I’m muted by the gradual loss of
Sunlight and the pointed lack of caring in
your words of afterthought or distraction
but it doesn’t stop my tears.
Ever persistent, I fucking want you still.
I will forever be your last choice,
and you will forever be my first.

VF, 07.05.11