its just so hard to see tomorrow past tonight

Can we not fade to oblivion just yet?

I’m not ready for our love to be forgotten,

Eternally unspoken, the memory now foreign.

Although your name is never formed by my lips,

Unfamiliar as the taste of your kiss,

My pen knows all about the blue of your eyes,

Your smile, and the heat of your hand holding mine.

Look, I know we weren’t made to survive summer -

We are frozen lakes, windy days and snowflakes,

All bare trees and frosty breeze, delicate mistakes.

I know, when we cross paths, I stare at the floor,

You pretend not to see me, try to ignore.

Promises of ‘still friends’ slipped through our fingers,

Like ice, they shatter, but the cold still lingers.

When I see you affection overcomes me,

Emotion, tenderness, overpowering.

Can we hold on to this pretence one more night?

Could I hold you in my arms for one last time?

We’ll return to the ashes that we came from,

An ocean apart, and a state of nothing.

Not yet, though - can we smile and embrace once more?

Try, although I’m not sure such a thing exists,

not to mention the blue light is real bad for their eyes. pretty soon we’re going to have a generation of kids with terrible eyesight and chronic headaches from staring at screens. 

you shouldn’t have the tv on or even have your own phone in the room with a baby under 6 months. this is because babies need eye contact to develop empathy (no, seriously) and if you’re looking at your phone, you aren’t playing with your baby. the pretty flashy lights of a phone are much more interesting to your baby than you are. 

someone 30-40 years older than me: they've been around for awhile you just getting into them?

Add up your points and put what you are in the tags

You live within half an hour of a beach (10 points)

You’ve gone to the beach after school/work (15 points)

You’ve worn shorts in winter (5 points)

You’ve eaten at In-N-Out (20 points)

You’ve ridden a long board (10 points)

You’ve complained about 60 degree weather being too cold (15 points)

You could look out a window right now and see a palm tree (10 points)

You have blonde hair (5 points)

You tan easily (5 points)

You know how to surf (10 points)

You frequently say “hella” or “gnarly” or “dank” or “dude” (5 points)

You’ve gotten yourself in a car accident (10 points)

You own more shorts than pants (15 points)

You’ve sat in traffic for over an hour (5 points)

You’ve experienced an earthquake (10 points)

An earthquake happened and you didn’t even notice (20 points)

Snow excites you (5 points)

You’ve had Chipotle and Starbucks within 24 hours of each other (10 points)

You’ve seen a celebrity in public (10 points)

You tend to lean more towards liberal than conservative (5 points)

You attend/attended an outdoor school (campus is not one giant building) (10 points)

There are 3+ Starbucks in your hometown (5 points)

You frequently practice the ‘California Rolling Stop’ (10 points)

You’ve had a California burrito (15 points)

You’ve had at least one fire day (like snow days but for wild fires) getting you out of school or work (20 points)

You say the word ‘like’ in almost every sentence (10 points)

You have a pool at your house/complex (5 points)

You’ve been to Disneyland (15 points)

You’ve ever been on any sort of “cleanse” (10 points)

Ranges:

0-100 - Not really Californian at all

100-200 - Eh, you could pass as Californian

i fumbled the lighter and coughed my way through it and asked you if you can get drunk off communion wine and you said you’d tried and it was better than nothing. and i didn’t know how to tell you this, how it was fasting to keep myself from touching you, how last week you looked over at me during service and my hands started sweating.

how to tell someone this. how to turn and look at you from across the pews, the two of us clean in our patent leather shoes, and tell you that i was made sinner by you, that i lied too, lied to my parents and it was about you. how would i tell you this, how my nights had turned red with wanting you. how i was feverish at the thought of you, made holy when i touched you. you poked at a spider with the end of a stick and i asked you what you lied to the priest about today. you looked at me and all i wanted was that moment pasted on the palms of my hands so when i opened a bible it would always be there looking back at me.

and forgive me father for i have sinned, forgive me father for i am sin. you put your hand on my thigh and i couldn’t stop shaking.

it was a sunday the lord’s day and you took a drag from your cigarette and kissed me like a prayer and you tasted like sugar and ashes and communion wine and i was baptized in you, undone by you, made sacred by you, and how could i not be forgiven for this, how could this make me filthy when i finally felt clean, because you, you were holy water.

two years later, we saw each other at a party, both of us drunk off real liqueur, us girls hard and bright and chomping at the bit of it, life i mean, and you were kissing a boy in a hot tub and i could see sugar on you, i wondered if he could still taste our ashes on you.

sometimes i used to stand across from the church and picture the stained glass, wonder how something with stained in the name could be holy but the stain of you made me sin, sometimes i would stand and picture the service, the people, their heads bright and good and blue under the light, and me, clean turning red by your holy, holy lips.