“She is a friend of my mind. She gathers me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It’s good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.”

Sixo, Beloved by Toni Morrison.

the words she longed to hear didn't belong to any spoken language; they began in his eyes, were fulfilled with his kiss, and resonated in her bones as he held onto her as if she were his only lifeline.

LOST.

the wind nips at her toes as they dangle perilously in the air. her long hair is blown into a scattered mess, covering her face as she looks out into the distance. red and blues and pinks and oranges, they all blend together in ways that are beautiful and peaceful and dangerous.

her sigh is lost in the breeze as darkness threatens to blanket the world. she doesn't know what to think anymore, which is why she's where she is - in her metaphorical limbo.

she knows what she did was right, but that doesn't make it any bit more tolerable. falling back, she gazes uncertainly up at the purpling sky as if it could tell her the answers to all over her questions.

but, of course and as always, it can't and she ends up closing her eyes and seeing his face with those eyes and those lips and that hair. she pictures his smile and his ears and the goofy way his face scrunched when he was concentrating. she sees the look he gave her when she was doing something goofy and the one that said 'i love you' in a way that words always failed to say it in. she hears his laugh as clear as ever and his voice is as present as if he was standing behind her.

she remembers those days where she and him were so wrapped up in each other and the summer heat and newfound freedom and perfection that the time slipped away before they could ever realize it was there. she hasn't forgotten his words and his promises and their comfortable silence. memories of the way he felt and the way they fit and the feel of his hands haunt her almost daily.

she misses all of it.

she sits up again as the sound of footsteps sounds in the distance. she thinks about his lies and his choice and the consequences. she reminds herself that his hands aren't hers anymore and that she wouldn't want them anyway after what he's done. she remembers the spilled secrets and cruel jokes and new personality - the things she wouldn't deal with.

she snatches her feet back from the ledge as the sun disappears below the horizon with its last tribute to color. she stands up and she walks away, not even pausing as he made to stop her.

if only starting over were as easy as walking away.

TRANQUILITY.

it’s hot, but what else could anyone expect in the middle of the summer? the nearly complete darkness is punctured only briefly by the on and off glow of fireflies over the lake. i swing my legs back and forth over the edge of the dock, close enough to feel the coolness of the water in my feet, but not breaking the surface.

the crickets and the toads are quiet tonight, as if they know the normal presence of their chirps and croaks would awaken us from this extraordinary moment. my hands grip the edge of the dock as i try to hold onto the moment and glance at him from under my thick curtain of hair.

though i can barely make out his face in the darkness, the beauty of the smile that spread slowly over his face knocks me breathless. in one swift moment, he wraps a muscled arm around me and pulls me to him as he falls backward onto the dusty wooden dock.

we should have made a noise, for the dock was old and creaky, but i noticed that all sounds were suspended. i laughed noiselessly at his boyish grin and brushed my hair from my face. his hand traced my jaw, neck, and shoulder, creating a trail of fire all the way to the exposed skin my sundress didn’t cover.

my lips brushed his lightly and i felt him tighten his grip on me pulling me closer. i smiled into his mouth and pulled back teasingly. i thought i saw him smirk at me but before i could wonder why, i found my back pressed hard against the dock, staring up at his face, his features silhouetted by the dim stars and sliver of a moon.

i sighed breathlessly at the sight, not making a sound, and he ran a hand down my side until he found my exposed legs. my breath caught, yet again, and he pressed his lips to mine.

the air is thick with tension and emotion and quiet.

the sporadic thumping of my heart is the only noise that can be heard for miles, for on nights when the silence gathers, my heart explodes.

[03.07.2010]

TREEHOUSE.

down the hollow from the porch,

there's an opening in the trees,

and if you look real closely,

you just might see me.

as i do almost everyday

at just about this time

i look up at our treehouse,

i close my eyes, i sigh.

daddy build it when we were young,

before school and cars and boys.

back when we were innocent,

consumed with barbie dolls and toys.

i think this was your favorite place,

and that's why i return

to stare up at the broken wood

wishing you weren't gone.

[03.05.10]

FEAR.

don't be scared, you whispered. i'll always be here for you.

i'm scared.

i'm scared for what i have to lose, and what i have to deal with.

i'm scared of not having anyone to turn to, to hug, to kiss. no one to console me and hold me and listen to me complain. no one to think that its cute when i cry.

i'm scared of missing you. of the gap thats left in me when you're not here.

i'm scared of letting you go. of not finding anyone that loves me like that, or that i love like this.

i'm scared of the memories that won't leave me alone. the ones where you're cute and we're perfect. the moments i never wanted to end.

i'm scared of my exhaustion, yet sleeping isn't peaceful either. you haunt my dreams, you haunt my presence.

i'm scared of the future. because i don't see you in it.

[02.27.10]

OF SEARCHING.

it was shoddily built, but what did expect from a six year old? when my dad offered to help, i'd declined; i could do it all by myself - when had i lost that independence? it wasn't even a club house... not really. it was more like a wooden fence nailed on top of a few fat branches high enough up in a tree to require a ladder of thick pieces of wood nailed to the trunk. i was never the princess type, anyway.

the wood, warped by eleven years time, moaned underneath me and my sleeping bag as i turned over to lay on my stomach. it just getting light and soon the sun would peak over the hills that lay just to the east of my makeshift bed in brilliant colors of pink and purple and yellow and orange.

i rested my head on my hands looking in that direction, waiting, and trying not to fall asleep. i closed my eyes; i hadn't slept well in my room, there was too much shouting and violence tossed around in there.

pictures of us decorated the walls, screaming happiness and joy that no longer existed. when i'd tried to pry them off, the frames burned me and the nails made me bleed. the blanket choked me, wrapping the intoxicating smell of his hair around my throat and successfully making it impossible to draw a breath. the teddy bear attacked my feet, even when i kicked it across the room, and the toy-story watch he'd gotten in his happy meal that one time beeped and beeped until the resonance nearly turned my brain to jelly.

so i'd escaped to my childhood house, searching for innocence.

light flooded the inside of my eyelids and i opened them, squinting at the sun as it brought saturday morning over the hills. thats when i saw it, the buck, standing on top of the largest hill silhouetted by the orange of the early morning. i sighed and smiled just a bit.

maybe i had made the right decision: in coming out here, in leaving him...

i was just beginning to think that i was finally content with the world, if only for a few minutes, when a gunshot rang out and the buck crumbled to the ground. "i got one, dad!" i heard my brother yelling from the distance. "did you see that?"

i turned my head to face opposite the sun and opposite the world's sign that, then again, maybe i hadn't.

[2.23.10]