He wants everything
to be new, for
life is now,
in the moment.

Talk of yesterday
irritates his mental state.
He seems to have no
memories, sour or sweet.

He pays attention,
observant, fixed and
focused on charm bracelet,
the sky, or her feet.

Notes, mementoes
seldom covered his table
for life is now,
living is the present.

No talk of tomorrow
nor discourse of history
for he might miss
the softness of her breath.

Who cares for yesterday
or sins that he had played,
excitement seems supreme,
he might make the same mistake today.

Recalling past life and loves
seems folly:
Notice the wind, the rain,
her walk, or her sway.

He wants every moment
to be new
so he may fall in love today
again, with her.

Standing in the darkened garage
I listen to the whistling winter air
And think of times so long ago
And of one who is not there

My Grand dad was a whistler
No matter what he did
Whether reading, sitting, standing still
Whistling is what he did

He told me once the secret was
To purse your lips and blow
It took me years to figure out
But the secret I now know

No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around

Chopin, List, John Lennon
It didn't matter one **** bit
He would whistle what was in his head
And I would listen and I'd sit

Grandad could make music
No matter where he was
His whistle made him special
At least, special to us

No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around

The wind sounds high and vicious
As I listen through the door
It's a sound Grandad made daily
It's a sound I hear no more

A simple act of moving air
Across one's lips is all
But Grandad could translate it
Into a wild birds call

No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around.

I am bad at flirting…like…really bad
and
I **** at being subtle.
Your blog is quality and so is mine (on good days, anyways).
I may not be that pretty, but I am a good person.
                                        I won’t ******* over.
And I will make you tea at 2 a.m. and not judge your tastes in music
(out loud).
We can watch Spirited Away or Howl’s Moving Castle or Nausica
and tumble and have *** and wear **** shades.
I will make you breakfast and vegetarian dishes
on Meatless Monday.
We can read Bukowski on swing sets, smoke cigarettes, and drink whiskey, stumble behind bushes and kiss until my lips hurt.
We can have coffee in some place in Asheville and sit really close together and make fun of black-keys hipsters
(even though I really like the Black Keys).
You will probably have to listen to lots of Hole and Rising Appalachia
and read my poetry, but I will always
read your work when you hand it to me.
And probably buy you nice things.
Like a flask with some quote you like on it. Or your favorite pack of cigs with something cute like, ‘let’s have *** in that bathroom’
written on it.
Or a nice sweater because…sweaters are nice and my blow jobs are of legend.
I may not know you that well, but I’d like to.
And I think you would like to get to know me
because I’m pretty rad.
And I look nice in green and dark navy blue,
and my hair looks pretty in the sunlight.  
I’m saying all this because I’m lonely and people with good tastes in music are rare.

gin reminds me of
black birds
{singing
               in the dead
of
night
}
  when i want to
take my
                 b   r   o   k  e   n
wings
        &
learn               y
          to       l
                 f
of flowers
blooming in
                       january
and
slightly-sweet country music
of
{almost}
thunderstorms and orange
blossoms
of wearing
too much
mascara
               and blush
just to walk around                    
                                       naked
in my kitchen
of cheeks
flushed
and the taste of lime
and gingerale
                         on the pads of
my
fingers
of restless nights
when days are     l         o      n     g
and sweet cosmos
and wine
don't   cut the    edg
e
and the
                 sting
of lavender laundry detergent
on a paper cut
                          of
being a
GROWNwoman and realizing
that
childhood
doesn't
                   end.
or stop.
when you
walk
         a      c    r    o    ss
a stage
of t
u m
b l
e
off of a summer warmed s
                                               l
                                                    i
                                                        d
                                                             e
of swisher
                   sweets
and wind chimes
in north carolina
of pressed powder and the tastes of
watered down
iced coffee
{coffee
ice
shake
almond milk
pour}
with no sugar

Feeling self destructive
How does one feel so?
I wouldn't know how
But I know how it goes

I'll get ******* at everyone
Turn of the telly and cut the tube
I'll say to myself, "I'm ******* done."
And I'll not sleep, like normal

Music won't do its good deeds
I'll smoke half a cigarette,
But put it out & do some speed
I'm just kidding, I don't do speed

I'll grind my teeth a little
Feel my eyes tighten into suspicion
Play the world's smallest fiddle
For my own sorry ***

Keep in mind that I'm attempting to keep this simple
Today I realized that I'm quite bitter
I also realized that I'm a terrible quitter
But I also decided that when I'm feeling down
I'll make a compilation to get me off the ground
Of things I love, because I know there are many
I apologize if you don't feel like reading plenty
I shouldn't postpone this any longer
I need to make myself realize that I'm stronger

So, things I love.
I love hot long showers
I love photographing flowers
I love a hot steaming cup of tea
I love walking only 6 blocks to go to the library
I love the feeling of a cold pillow on my face
I love plugging in head phones & disappearing without a trace
I love it when a person plays with my hair
I love Chicago, did you know I'm moving there?
I love paper cranes
I love filling up picture frames
I love the smell of old books
I love walking around town, alone, finding hidden nooks
I love deja vu, which I'm actually having this instant
I love writing poetry, hearing your guys' opinions, even if they are ever so distant
I love the long drag of a skinny cigarette
I love standing by the back door after a sunset
I love marbles, elephants, old dusty cameras, & boba fett
I love finding lovely people that I've never met
I love going to sleep at a decent time, which feels like never at all
I love putting up quotes that make my heart flutter on my wall
I love reading books that make me feel changed after I'm done
I love cooking for everyone
I love doing things by myself, no matter how hard
I love the fact that I'll never own a credit card
I love that it makes me happy when I get compliments
I love, also, that if I'm insulted, I couldn't give a ****
I love the emphasis on curse words that comes with them
I love tasting words in your mouth again and again
I love websites that feel like the are created for me
I love whenever I can remember my dreams
I love meeting a handsome strangers glance
I love that even though I meet it, that I will never have a chance
I love taking breaks
I love when people don't know I know they are fakes
I love experiences
I love watching as someone dances

I love all of these things, and so many more
I'm sorry if you didn't want to read all the things I adore
This piece isn't meant to be elaborately written or read
It's only purpose is to flow & to solve some problems in my head
Maybe I sort of want to make the reader feel better too
Realize that the things that you love are full of value
Maybe I suggest you write some of the things you love
Before you push away everything good with a violent shove
I really hope that I helped you as much as a I helped me
Read these & appreciate the simple things, I hope you'll see

I think I'll do more of these in the future.

Alone, I am restricted to silence,
In your presence, I worship your voice,
I close my eyes,
to feel,
to decipher,
Every sound you make.
My lips touch yours, and the meaning of life is clear,
In a life of turbulence, we as one become an oasis of serenity,
You define me,
Through this my soul flourishes.
Without you, tranquility shall be disturbed,
A burden from this world is lifted off from my shoulders,
Replaced with my lover’s arms.
This is love as we know it.
Alone, I am restricted to silence,
In your presence, I worship you.



The love between us;
palpable.
Only lovers could grasp the depth,
Only we can feel the warmth.

The love between us;
perceptible.
You can hear the love in my words,
I can taste the love upon your lips.

The love between us;
ignites when we become one.

My feelings burn through my skin.
Darkness is my old friend, and he has come to visit me again.
We sit by the window and drink our tea.
I smoke a cigarette, which is not like me.
But that's what Darkness does.
Brings out all the ugly parts of me, and turns them into beauty
that only it can see.