me, on a date: what's your favorite high school musical song?

what she says: im fine

i feel heavy. heavy hearted, heavy handed, heavy footed. like there’s this great big weight.  on my chest or on my shoulders, or somewhere in between. there are good kinds of weight in your body. a heart made of gold.  a brain full of dreams. a throat full of laughter. and there are bad kinds of weight. shoes of lead. eyes that are tired. hands so full you can barely pick them up. i will not tell you what kind of weight i carry. but it is heavy. but it breaks my back.

i hope you're fair when you remember me.  i hope you remeber the laughter and the way everything seemed drenched in sun. i hope you remember hands swinging like a pendulum between us, and out of focus pictures. but i hope you remember the rest of it too. the fights and the walking out and the way we figure out that sometimes love just isn't enough. i hope you remember the way the songs i would hum made you sigh into my skin, and i hope you remember that even things done in love can be done badly.

when every nerve end is on fire; that's how you know you found her. she is the body electric, the quickening heartbeat, the ache in your chest. and you are the closed circuit, the hand to your breast, the thump, thump, thump of a living heart. when she touches you, and every muscle relaxes into her, that's how you know you found her.

i knew this  boy (& he would deny this) who had poetry in his bloodstream.  he was a poem come to life. the way he sighed,  like the coming of a storm. or his laugh that could make december feel like june. everything he did made my fingers ache. i wrote about him everywhere, on diner napkins, on the palm of my hand. one day,  the ink on my hand bled onto his, and he stared, and stared, and stared.  when he said goodbye to me, for probably the last time,  he paused, then said, 'you're a better writer than you are lover.' oh sweet muse, you were a writer too. you are a book all on its own.

i labeled my journal 'being happy' and i look at it every day. but its still empty