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Saturday, February 15
i curled
like a rose petal peeled
from a bud.
you burnt through me,
ashed pages flew
as i was engulfed.
i gave you a silver lining.
Maria 6:18:00 PM
of pierced eyebrows and music store clerks.
you poured dirt into my water and made mud
of poems and music inspired and corrupted
by the same piercing blue eyes that
occupy your head and my brain.
Maria 6:17:00 PM
Friday, February 14
that's one yummy story you got there.
Maria 7:56:00 PM
Wednesday, February 12
we stood in the newsroom
and you were holding my hands
because neither of us knew what to say.
"but we never have before, so why start now?"
and i was crying
because you were going away and
i didn't want you to and the words
that you had just said were the
truest you had ever spoken.
we walked out into the parking lot
and i thought of all the times i had
watched you smoke
and all the times i stayed inside and
cursed you out even though you were out of earshot
and the one time i smoke when you had quit
just to get back at you.
and you knew what i was thinking
and didn't say a word.
i couldn't unlock my car because my hands
were shaking and i looked at you pathetically
as you took my keys and opened my door for me.
"thank you."
i had meant to say for everything afterwards,
but words weren't coming out of my mouth.
but you understood for the first time ever what i had meant.
you were about to close my car's door
when i covered my mouth and said.
"will i ever see you smile again?"
and you cried for the very first time
about something that wasn't music.
and you smiled.
"no."
LOVER YOU SHOULD'VE COME OVER.
Maria 11:33:00 PM
Sunday, February 9
and sometimes, i really
like late night pop song wreckless
driving and two shoes on two
feet and climbing into you,
good book, and nodding
into your one crease and i like
convenient stores in city blocks
where everything melts to corners
and meets the same cement
ground and when the blacktop
steems and sizzles it sounds like
orange sunlight hitting trees
at sunset, it feels like blankets
piled on old dirty cars, it smells
like drawing on tires with crayons
and letting the black rubber soak
up the wax like wet dreams.
Giorgie 4:22:00 PM
just a start.
we burnt words like firewood
sitting cross legged on long cove,
apologizing and forgiving and
avoiding eye contact like poison.
"from a wire fell like stars from the sky
i didn't mean for it to happen;
it wrote itself in words i would never have the balls to say to you
ever."
and when you smiled and said it was alright,
i threw three journals into the
fire, and watched poems and anger
engulf itself in forgiveness.
i really hate "avoiding eye contact like poison." but i don't, but i do. because i'ma a fruit cake.
Maria 1:27:00 AM
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