Not a Poem but a Thought

I lay awake, the ceiling spinning, emotions flowing through my heart, an unsteady rhythm of unclear consequences. It’s been months since I’ve felt this way, months since the pain of reality has surged into my mind, an unwelcome flood of destruction.

I always struggled with the night, with the sounds of my breathe and the cars passing slowly outside. I always struggled keep my mind in my body, to pin my soul to my bones and not drift off into another existence, where the world is free from drifting minds.

Thoughts crash into me, sending me skidding through the alleyways of my emotions, and with memories as walls, I begin to fall into the past, into times that I do not want to see again.

Your face laughing, the curve of your smile as it calls to me, beckons me further into my own mind. You grab my hand and pull it to your chest, to your lips, and release. But I cannot move anywhere, but I cannot move forward or backward. I am stuck. You grab for my waist and pull your body to mine, a long hug that deserves no end. I grab for you, cling to you, run my fingers through your hair only to find air, to find space, to find emptiness around.

I bang against the bed and scream into my pillow. The past has returned with a vengeance. You have returned to my mind. And as I sob out my memories and let them drift away with my tears, I feel a growing panic inside me, a growing urge to escape, to run away from my body, from my mind, from what cannot be escaped, from what I must stay with eternally.

The memory of you is etched in my soul and with your absence, I lose more of myself each day, each night that reminds me of what you once were, of what we once were, of being happy.


A Letter to a Lost Love

Hey Sweetheart (am I allowed to call you that still?),

It’s midnight here, and I’m sitting in this empty room that’s filled with people absorbed in their own conjugations of lost languages and equations of concepts designed to bring one out of this world, quite literally. The cover of their book reads ‘astrophysics’, a concept as obscure to me as the next fifty years to come without you there to hug me.

Ah, how I miss those hugs, those tender embraces sealed with a kiss on the forehead, a stamp that claimed me as yours. I would chuckle softly and slip my hand into yours, and we would walk off without the world in mind. I miss not thinking of the world and its innumerable problems… I miss that you fixed everything, just with that kiss on the forehead. 

Across from me, there sit two people, as absorbed in each other as I am in the thought of us. They sit with an air of normality, an unclaimed ease that engulfs their togetherness, an aura that lets one know that they in fact are a couple without the obvious, casual cuddling. I miss that, what we had. I miss dating my best friend.

On the other side of the room, I hear a quiet laugh and I’m brought back to the days when you would tickle me just to make me smile, erasing the uneasy sadness that engulfs me sometimes for no reason. There was never a reason for the tears, and there was never a reason for us… and yet here I am, left with a sadness that thoroughly overwhelms me… and left without you. You’re not here to fix me, babe. How I miss not being broken, not sewing myself together with forced grins and masks of laughter, holding onto the idea that if I pretend to be happy, I will one day be so. 

How very ironic it is that the one who fixed me shattered me so thoroughly, though I can’t say I blame you. I can be unbearable, and for that, I apologize. I was gripping onto an idea of love until I suffocated it, killed it, destroyed it and thus destroyed myself. 

But I digress. 

You taught me how to love, babe. I still remember that January night when you pulled me close to you and whispered that you would always care about me, that you would always be there for me, and that if I ever needed you, you would be there in a heart beat. You whispered then, that you loved me, and a powerful surge of euphoria drenched my body. You had set me on fire. 

Do you remember all those nights you laid on top of me, your head resting on my chest as we talked about life and what was to come, about how we would go to college near each other and rent an apartment.. we never got much past that because that’s the dream isn’t it? To live young and unattached with the exception of one titanium thread to your most beloved friend. 

I want to say our love is whole, but yours is gone and I’m left here with an unrequited love of Shakespearean proportions. I want to punch a wall at the sound of your name, just as much as I want to kiss you until I fall asleep. I want to run a thousand laps around the earth until I’ve wound back time until before I met you and hurt so eternally, but I want to fall asleep in your arms. I want to listen to romantic poetry and not write sonnets of heartbreak. I want to watch movies with you, any movie… so long as it’s not horror; I know you hate that. I want to feel safe in your arms again. I want to trust you so unequivocally that if you told me the sky was yellow, I would believe you. I want.. I want what we had. I want our love not to be lost. I want you to come back. 

I guess that makes me weak. Or just heartbroken. Is there a difference? 

They always said writing letters you never mean to send is freeing. This one just makes me more sad. 

Thoroughly yours, 
Too much love, 











As I sit absorbing Spanish vocabulary, I cannot remember a single word that I’m meant to learn because you’re the only thing occupying my mind, like an obtuse elephant stubbornly sitting in a puddle. 

Poem: How to Say Good-Bye

How to Say Good-Bye

I’ve never grasped the art of saying it,
The finality of a seven letter string,
Dangling in the air, waiting to be caught
By a mouth filled with other thoughts
Waiting their turn in line.

Should it be sealed with a hug?
A gentle tug on the sleeve,
A wink, a smile, a wave, a tear?
Followed by the inevitable: You leave.

Perhaps it’s not the word,
But the concept of au revoir,
That leaves me unheard,
The seven letters bracing themselves
Against the jump of finality.

They stand side-by-side,
Twisting my tongue into
Other compilations.
Refusing to say it.

Instead, I pull your mouth to mine,
Hoping the letters make the leap
During an impassioned kiss,
Freeing me of the burden
Of my own inability
To let


On Breaking Up

A break up, in the heat of the moment, can seem like the worst possible catastrophe to occur in your life… and then you remember that things like famine exist. Yet, those problems are so distant, so far away from our cushy first-world lives (in many cases), that to us, the directness of a break up, of losing that one light in your life seems crushing, crippling in some cases. 

One week out from essentially being dumped, I’ve come to the somewhat-sane conclusion that it was all for the best, that the world breathes a little easier and the stress that had hung heavy under my eyes for a month has slowly faded to maybe one dark bag. 

Because… if a relationship leads to a break up, then that relationship was already broken. 

I had spent the past month living under the delusion that the past would remain the future, that the world was a continuous strain of love and happiness, in my naive, love-struck mindset that we could be that couple that makes it past high school. But baby, it takes two to tango. 

And the fact of the matter was he didn’t have his dancing shoes on. 

So, thus, I felt left out, a dancer that had leaned back in a trust fall and landed on the ground… and in a way, I guess that’s what happened. But we were on different levels, but the distance drove our problems at us face first, but he couldn’t handle my not being there, but he started to like someone else and became confused, but life got in the way of love. 

Isn’t that what usually happens? 

I’m not going to pretend that I’m currently frolicking in a meadow of daisies (hell, it’s finals season. I wish I were doing that). It sucks, and I miss him and I still love him. I go to bed every night without the warmth of his memory because his memory makes me cry. I tear up at the thought of how good we were, how pure and innocent and new. I bemoan the fact that it ended, but as much as I want to fight it, it did and I can’t change that. 

The dance is over.

There are so many emotions that are flowing through me that I can’t even begin to write them all down. I’m sure future posts will come.

But in the mean time, I should probably put this sought-after cubicle to good use. Maintenant, j’étudie.  Adieu. 



What Doesn’t Kill Us Maims Us: What Happens When Love Fades?

What happens when love fades?
Last night, we both drank in my basement and I uttered the inevitably painful,
“You don’t love me anymore, do you?”
“Can I abstain from answering?” he slurred. 
I laid back on the bed, closed my eyes and didn’t move. 
“I knew it.”
And the tears came. They came suddenly, a massive rush, as he leaned over me, pulling me into a tight hug until suddenly he was shaking, sobbing loudly, repeating over and over, 
“I just want it back; I want that feeling back more than anything. I want to be excited to talk to you. I want to love you again, I don’t want to be that asshole, I just want it back but it isn’t back and I was hoping it would be but it isn’t… I have to break up with you and that’s the last thing I want”
For three hours, three hours of snot, spit, and my comforting my now ex-boyfriend who I am still very much in love with, who I would do anything for, will do anything for, including stay there and make sure he’s alright. 
When he calmed down, I broke again, and started crying… he hushed my sobs with a kiss, and soon pulled me into one of the most impassioned moments of my life. Then, pulling away, he mumbled “I love you.”
“What the fuck?”
“I love you… I felt it right there, I knew it still existed. It’s still there. It’s gone now… but I felt it.”
And we went on and continued to other things that ended with us curled up on a blanket outside, my staring at the stars, curled into his body, us together like nothing had ever happened. 

In the morning, we decided that a break would be most adequate, that we’re complicated, that the world is difficult, that not everything can go as planned, and if anything changes within the next three weeks, we’ll see where we go from there. 

If not, if the love isn’t back, if he truly likes this sophomore and she’s not just a bitch replacement for me, then I will find a way to move on. Until then, I’ll bide my time. He’s still my best friend, regardless of love, and he’s still the one I want to talk to everyday. But I’m going to resist that, let time fester, see if he misses me… if he doesn’t, I have a feeling we’ll be continuing something along the lines of best friends with benefits, at least for a little while. 

This morning it was as if nothing had changed but everything had, the laughter, the kidding, the playfulness had returned. We had returned. The love… at least for him, I suppose, just hadn’t. I hope it does in time…

Life is a painful transition period that never ends and it fucking sucks, but this is all a part of growing up, isn’t it? 
Time heals all wounds, but creates new ones. What doesn’t kill us doesn’t always make us stronger, but hopefully it doesn’t eternally maim us. But I mean, eventually we die. So.

There’s always that!
Time to hit the train back to DC… until later. 

How is an Open Relationship a Relationship?

I’ve been away at college for approximately two months, and it’s around the time when my relationship begins to evolve from exclusive to open. We had agreed months ago that an open relationship would be most conducive to us lasting, to us staying together, as we don’t know when next we will be together daily, and I suppose that begs the question: is it really?

Last night, I discovered that my significant other has a crush on a girl at our old high school, something I had never seen coming, something I hadn’t expected, something I hadn’t prepared myself to handle, for while we had discussed the concept of an open relationship, I never actually considered that that was a valid possibility, that at our school, he would find someone else. I was wrong.

Yet, there comes a point in which I must question, if he starts seeing this girl, if I’m four hundred miles away, is our relationship truly a relationship? If we still love each other, is that enough? I think it might be.

I know from experience that it is possible to be in love with someone and like someone else, but I’ve never acted on that liking, never really considered it a valid option. So, I must ask, will this drive us apart? Only time will tell.

A friend of mine, who I called last night in tears, argued that an open relationship is not a relationship, but rather a title… and I’m not sure if I agree or not. I’m not sure if I can handle this open relationship. I’m not sure I have the strength, but I’m also sure that he still loves me, and that at the end of the day, he would choose me.  And… for the time being, that’s enough.

Open relationships can only survive through the honesty of the participants and the strength of them. Lord knows, this hurts. It hurts more than I could’ve imagine, but would it hurt more to completely lose him? I’m entirely sure it would.

I was his first everything… first kiss, first relationship, first love, first sexual experience. So, there comes a point in which I must accept the fact that in order for us to grow… I think he needs to, in a way, experience other people. Perhaps we both do. We’re young, we’re 18 and 17 respectively with grown-up problems that I have yet figured out how to handle. But, I think, with talking, with openness to eachother, we can get through this.

But yet, I furthermore have to ask, is it fair to the third person involved? I don’t think it is, and that’s something for him and I to discuss in the upcoming weekend.

Any ideas would be greatly appreciated. Updates will follow.

Poem: You… You were wrong

“Sarah, sweetheart, you’ll have it easier next year” He mumbled, moving his hand to my cheek, gently wiping away a tear. “You’ll have new friends, new experiences, new places to go and new things to do. You won’t forget. You’ll never forget. But you won’t miss me as much as you think you will.” He wiped away another tear.

You were wrong, babe.
In the worst possible way,
For now, who is here to wipe my tears?
To tell me that it’ll be okay?
To tell me that another day,
Is just another day?
Where can I go when this feeling of loneliness
Can’t stop eating at my heart,
Until I feel like drinking away all emotions,
All sanity, all thoughts, all my humanity?

You were my refuge,
Where can I go now?
You were my home,
I’m not there anymore..

Hell, I can’t even write poetry

I miss you, Bri.
More than I can handle…
You were just wrong…
That’s it.