i sent a flirty email to my potential english teacher next year and he responded and used and exclamation point and the word earnest so i know he wants the d

writingsforwinter:

Tonight, even breathing
seems like something I should fill out a job application for
since I have to work so hard at it.
Once, I thought about renting
a bus and painting the word Love on the outside
like some people do with ships, so the motto would be
love will take you anywhere. But then
I realized that passengers would make a conscious decision
not to ride it since they already know
what a painful experience love can be.
When we went out for dinner and he offered to take
the check, I said, Go ahead,
but you don’t always have to pay for me.
What I really meant was,
Loving me is worth nothing. I come for free.
My favorite stars are the emotionally unstable ones
that can’t decide where they want to rest in the sky,
so they choose all the possible places.
If I were a star, I would probably
come visit his house at night once or twice.
Maybe even three times.
When I took off my dress that one time
while the cicadas caught up on conversation outside,
I put my heartbeat on repeat.
I wanted him to loop it on his iPod, so he could hear me
even when I wasn’t with him.
When I took off my dress that one time for him,
I didn’t mean, I want you to see me naked, I meant,
I want you to see me as I was at birth,
before all this happened between us.

SUGARSWEET

All these pills
metaphysical
of my inadequacies

So many things
I couldn’t say, incapibility
lining my lips
bittersweet
tingling
the aftertaste of non-belonging
of wanting,
daunting
sugarsweet effort
(too much too much too much) consumed
sick to my stomach of all the trying,

here’s the difference between
not wanting anyone
and wanting absolutely no-one

there is a clinical satisfaction
in solitude
some strange comfort
in not having to be

CONSTRUCTION

if they had told me from the start that
the only thing standing between
knowing myself and subsequently
everything
was just me, and that
it wasn’t so difficult
to love ourselves
this journey would have been
less bruised and battered.
But, I wonder
How many experiences would therefore
not have drowned at sea,
thrown into abysses
I dreamt of not having given away
so many pieces of myself