#old write

Some days I can write and lose track of time some I can not write at all I sit and I think what could be blocking me what has me stalled so much in my head when it is time to share the words jumble or disappear ~ sometimes I can see inside where the thoughts go to die It's like seeing black a fade of light shining on a sharp stone ledge as the thoughts in my head letter by letter jump into the darkness never to be seen, heard or thought perhaps ever again ~ some time after I see my words who weren't ready to shine shining for someone else in another place at another time Making a difference when they need to...

~I.S.~

“Today, you are the same as yesterday.”

Until I found out it wasn't true.

For three years, I said; “you have been the same every single day, and you will not change.”

Until I had. It stared me in the face. I was scared, and tried to go back to who I was. I found that I could not return, no matter how hard I tried. I found that I could not find my old self. Where did it go? I miss it. I need it.

One day I will think these things. I hope the future me knows that the past me wanted this.

I want to write I want to see I want to feel

But instead, I'm in my room.

I'm watching the world go by my window.

And I will not join.

and stop at the same time?

But, I never felt more alive

within the span of his embrace

I trace the veins in his hands

wondering how many travelled

the same journey I course

who has made the stars align

in some stellar explosion

our breaths calm after the climb

our deep bodies of still waters

this wasn’t the time for curiosity

a choke, too difficult to swallow

(metaphorically speaking)

or was loving once enough?

did you feel as I did

when the white flag laid to rest

an indomitable feeling of loss

and a punch of red, red, red

then yellow (she is my nemesis)

a reminder of a faded bruise

once blue, without breath

but my veins, like yours, pump

an infinite loop of determination

never feeling like it was enough

of anything, especially a sunset

that made us fall to our knees

an optimist to think this yearning

to quench a thousand year drought

will abate with one drop in our mouths

naive to think (I) can live without

the sweet burst of desire, higher

than an orgasmic sigh of words

bellowing from my deepest trench

or harder than your fingers strum

the heartstrings of our song

creating a wave of undying trust

(to give, to feel, to love that much)

Alas, 'tis only a fool to believe

---

He is quiet. He got passing grades, not too high nor too low. The type of guy you'd find right in the middle of the school social hierarchy. A lot of the time he'd blend in the crowd and you won't be able to find him unless you looked hard enough. Not much of a socialite and his looks make him seem generic. Average. That's what he'd describe himself. He's normal, unexceptional, boring. Another face in the crowd.

She is loud. Boisterous and wild, she'll knock your teeth out if you so much as look at her the wrong way. She's well-known by the school and she wasn't the type of person you'd easily forget. Surprisingly enough, she gets high marks with her grades. Doesn't seem like the type to wear dresses? Oh boy, you are wrong. She loves them. (as long as they weren't inappropriate of course. That's been drilled into her whole being by her mother and she couldn't really argue now, could she?) Awesome, she tells you when you ask her to describe herself and continues rambling on while you inwardly groan. Modesty was and never will be her forte.

They're childhood friends.

She was new to the town and accidentally wandered off. Then, he sees this girl in front of an ice cream shop -a good half a head shorter than him- who looked to be holding back tears as she glares at the ground. He helps her back and somehow they become best friends on the way.

Their memories of that day are hazy at best, both of them claim. They've been inseparable since.

It was rare to see one without the other. Most times you'd see him trailing back behind her. They often played with each other, with her being the one taking the lead and him following her orders.

(He knew better than anyone how it felt to live in a house where no one wants to hear your voice, where no one ever listens. So he lets her talk, lets her ramble and rant. He listens to her.

He didn't want her ending up like him.

Quiet as a mouse and often trying to stay in the cover of his own personal world. Too tired to speak and word out thoughts because no one would listen anyway so why would he bother--?)

She drags him on her adventures. She'll invade his personal bubble and get him to join in the games and activities, get him connected with the world. He stayed in the corner far too much for her liking to be honest, and it was annoying her. He's special, she just knows it. Deep inside, there's someone in that seemingly blank slate and she would be the one to let that person out.

(She knows all too well how loneliness feels. It's been her friend since she was a child. The other kids didn't like her. She was too different, they said. Unusual, weird, a freak.

And she looks at him, dull and bored eyes staring back at her, straying away from all the others. Then, one day, she sees it. The lingering hurt and confusion beneath the surface and she recognizes that look immediately.

It's the same look she sees whenever she looks at the mirror once upon a time; before the two of them even met. Then and there, she resolves to hang out with him and help him in whatever way she can.

It's least she could do after all that he's done for her.)

---