velcro

sex is like velcro
at first, the connection is strong
loops fitting perfectly together
hearts hard to separate
bodies clinging tight
the first rip leaves the most damages
ties torn
lives ripped
links broken.
from then on, each new attachment becomes less intense
each time it's less connected
the broken and damaged ties from before
don't allow to grip as tight, hold so close
it's only a matter of time before the connection of connecting is gone.
you're unable to connect because there's too much damage
people pressed together briefly
feeling no real connection
separating as easily as they came together.
how long til i reach that?
til i become a damaged good

regret

regret
the cold nagging feeling that eats at your mind
something lost way back in time
a piece of innocence lost or a true friend gone
we must always be forced to go back
our mind drags us there in silence or conversation
mocking, 'look what you did, stupid girl
it's too late now and you'll never forget.'
it haunts you every day
a timeless torture to remind you what you are
to drag you down and pin you there
it churns your stomach and pulls a frown
why does this damn thing always drag me down

i was raised ii

i was raised by country
play outside til it's dark
sink your toes into black mud
don't get lost in the cornfields
catch the lightning bugs at dusk
and wish they'd live forever
but learn that all captured creatures die.

i was raised with freedom
breathe in the smells of the wide open
and run far enough away
so no one knows what you do
a life of pretend and play til
goosebumps prickle and it's time for dinner

i was raised at grandma's table
if you eat before prayers, it's poison
but then you best eat everything on your plate
dishes are done by those who don't cook
and dessert is a course.

i was raised in a home
where the third stair creaks
and the tornado blew away the trampoline again
where the hayloft is too hot for the
club house of our dreams
but the front porch is perfect during summer evening storms

i was raised by simplicity
where dishes with grandma
baking bread bears with mom
were my first lessons
where the Easter egg tree at church and
pastel mints on a plastic table cloth filled my heart's content

i was raised to explore
"no TV! go outside and play!"

i was raised

i was raised in a white house
set on a hill
that became my heaven
i'd wander the fields
the creek
the barns
never finding a treasure
and never realizing
that it was my treasure

i was raised by family
that lived in the house
i'd follow dad wherever he went
and feel a glow when he reached for my hand
i'd wonder at my mother's beauty and style
and pray that one day i'd be pretty like her
i'd wear her high heels and andy's hand-me-downs
because they would make me more like him

i was raised by grandparents
that lived down the road
a grandma that taught me to play in dishwater
and keep stirring even when you're bored
i watched grandpa work and learned
sometimes silence and dinner are all you need

i was raised that "we'll be here if you ever need us"
are not just words
and "explore the world but don't forget to come home"
will eventually take me back
to where i was raised

man's hands

in man's hands we find all the answers;
the creation from dust
the sweet pleasure of lust
the erection of steel
to the helpless pleading appeal.
the power held by wealth
and the sad frailty of failing health.
the gentle caress
with just an edge of roughness.
the knuckles knotted in hate
encircling the bad of love inscribed with a date.
the world of his skill
in the grasp of a quill.
the nervous tapping.
the joyous clapping.
the sweat of a boy hiding
to the patient parent's guiding.
if you look at his hands, you view his soul.
for whom do they reach, surrender, enfold?
do you feel their touch, their sweetness, their grudge?
for it's not difficult to misjudge.
the worth of a man
lies truly in his hands.

confidence

gaining control
feeling much better
know that i love you
but i must be clever
i can't let it show
or needle will hit red
but i hear it in good night
and feel it in bed
and if by chance
we can't make it last
i'll be glad for the dance
and tuck you neatly away in my past

mms

i know they're just for decoration
but why would such beauty be a creation
if it wasn't something we could have?
so when no one's looking, i'll quickly grab
to feel them between my fingers and know that soon
i must consume them fast
because as you know, good things don't last
for if you hold them too long
the heat becomes too strong
and what started as a good plan
has become a tragedy in your hand

epiphany

desperate
why do i become so
desperate
start out with confident and sure
and end up doubting
afraid
to lose you
afraid
you'll find someone better
and leave me alone
nagging
my fun falls away
nagging
i question all you do
and analyze you to death
impatient
i push for something i don't even know i want
impatient
i become frustrated quickly
with your relaxed attitude and control change
i have to change
change
my thought processes and value myself
remember i was happy before you too
focus
on all things that matter, not just you
focus
on my life and others
and have faith that it will work if it should
trust
that God will take care of me
trust
that you might be honest
and if you're not, that i'll be ok without you

never me

why can i not wait
to see your face
i count down the days
like my life is one big race.
but then i think some more
and there's something that i store
why won't you claim me?
aren't i as pretty, as smart, as funny as she?
you know who i'm referring to,
the one with the hold over you
don't hide it or act like i don't know
because boy, i know exactly how it goes
is that why you won't call me girlfriend?
or say i love you when the conversation ends?
why aren't i enough?
why don't i qualify?
and why do i even take the time to wonder why?
i say it doesn't matter to your face
but there's a shadow that i can't erase.
why aren't my men proud to be with me?
they all wanna sleep with me, tell me i'm pretty, call me funny
but ultimately it's never me they're really with
it's never me in their profile pic.
are you just another one of them?
because i'm tired of being a toy for men
i say i'll be patient and give it time
for you to decide when to call me mine
but my patience is wearing thin
and i'm not very good at faking a grin
to cover up the hurt that stings
when i feel like i'm just a fling.
i know they say that actions speak louder than words aloud
but i need to hear you say that to be my boyfriend you'd be proud

fear

most people fear snakes or heights
but what i fear can't be seen by sight
it's the place most people run to when they're second
when they feel the vulnerability of the open air
what i fear most is moving home
no longer having this freedom to roam
it's a kind of claustrophobic fear
that can't be cured by stepping into the clear
if i go home, i'll again feel
that restless stir
and if i can deal with that, i'm just not sure
i like my big world and multitude of friends
and i don't know how i'll react when that ends
replaying in my head is a memory of repression
and the emptiness that follows with the depression
of watching the world around you fade into re-runs
realizing that a life on repeat is what you've become
that fear of entrapment burns in my heart
but if i don't return, we'll never start

waste

may you live all the days of your life
and not waste them in front of a screen
or surrounding yourself with useless strife
there are places to go and things to be scene
but i feel like you don't understand
you seem ok with repetition
and a life that's bland
i want you to see that the time that you waste
you can't get it back
you recline and let the days slip past
without even seeing them crash
yes, family and friends are invaluable
but the opportunities you're missing are incalculable
there's a world out there
don't you feel the draw of the open air?
don't you feel the walls pressing in?
don't you want to fight against their pin?
spread your wings and fly away?
you always know you can go back someday
i realize that i can't control your life or desire
but i don't know if i can live without that fire

Headache

I know that we talk about this over and over

What should we do?

I moved for you, do you move for me?

Can I go back home again someday?

If I can't, can you stay here for me?

When are you coming? I need to know.

I bottle it up while we're out.

Pretend I'm ok while the couples around me laugh and play.

But I want you here. And I don't understand why you don't love me enough to do that for me.

We talk about how much we've grown up since college, but maybe I think I just bury more.

The emotions are still there, but they're paved over.

Responsibility and reality has smothered them into a soulless puddle.

I want you here. I'm tired of being alone.

I push friends away because I don't want to spend all day with them.

I want to spend all day with the person I feel the most comfortable with: you.

I miss being able to turn to someone who knows what I'm feeling without me explaining it.

I miss having that support waiting for me after a long day.

I miss having someone to laugh with and lean on.

There's a piece of my heart somewhere else, and it drains me.

It's getting really hard for me to understand how that person can also be the person who's so scared to move.

So scared to make a change. 

How can the person that I love and miss and long for be a person who sometimes seems so different from me?

I don't understand how you view life so differently but yet blend so well otherwise.

How don't you see moving here and being with me as a wonderful adventure?

I love my friends, and I know you'd love them too, but you don't try.

You don't try to share this life with me; you don't want to.

Because of fear? Because of baseball? Because of friends?

But all of those seem to amount to the fact that the importance of me, of us, doesn't outweigh them.

My head throbs and I can't figure out why.

Maybe it's because I'm incessantly wishing for something I can't make come true.

Fairytales used to seem so incredible. As I grow older, I realize that dreaming about them isn't fun anymore.

Maybe it's because I spend all day trying to figure out someone I think I know.

But maybe I don't.

Because in my mind, my other half would do anything to make us whole.

mom

blink
and she's the first beautiful face you see
the first soul that you touch
the first hand that you hold
the first to love you so much

your memories are filled with her
--open arms, gentle hands, familiar voice,
radiant smile, soft hair, joyful heart--
she's your number one, your person of choice

and as you grow up
she guides you through your years.
she's ever-present: your best cheerleader
and your pillar through the tears

you can't imagine life without her
but so suddenly that one-day comes,
for life ever-reliably revolves full circle.
blink
and you're the last beautiful face she sees: her son.

questions

heading home...

puppy, baby, boy, house...

3 preps, team, rules...

will i like it?

will it be what i expect?

will i feel trapped?

will he sacrifice to be with me?

everytime i go home now, there's a window at the end

an escape when i'm feeling stuck and small-towned

a dreaded separation when i'm feeling attached.

which one is it?

what happens now that it's not there?

will my love of SD, my friends here be replaced?

can they be replaced?

am i only walking away from a place i love?

or a persona i have created independently that i love?

am i giving up that independence?

or gaining a best friend and husband?

will i miss SD forever?

will rob be enough?

grow up

why do i constantly

have to be

the teacher

i teach you about girls

about their conniving ways

about their jealous betrayals

about their constant need for attention.

and after it all

i may as well have been talking to a wall

you're a smart guy

you have a good job

you have great relationships with others

you are responsible with finances and friendships

and yet you're blind

to the ways of womankind

you stare at the red, shiny apple

when you know you shouldn't

you fall into her trap

without even noticing the net

you view the situation

through your single rose colored lens

when will you wake up?

when will you realize?

when will you grow up?

hey you

don't try to figure them out

read them for what they are

you say a lot of things

i'm not sure you really mean

i need time to think this through

i've known people like you -

because you're like me

you think impulsively

but you're emotions are passionate

and what's ironic

is that those are traits desire

i need that fuel to light my fire

but sometimes two flames together

are a bit too much

and we'll eventually combust

into a pile of disastrous dust.

so forgive me

for thinking carefully.

and give me time

to figure out this tangled mind.

Leftovers

I’m a fridge full of leftovers.

There’s some rotten broccoli in the bottom drawer

And if you open it, you can be sure it’ll smell up the entire room

like a smelly broccoli boom.

There’s some fermented orange juice on the top shelf

Bulging and ready to pop its cap

At the simplest little aggravated tap.

And if you open the freezer you'll be sure to find

A nice layer of frosty frozen freezer burn

Which has ruined any flavor of food it has spurned.

These relationship leftovers are scattered in my heart

Just waiting to cause a mess;

Ruin all relationships to leave me loveless

They linger in the laziness of disposal

You want to throw them out;

to be rid of them no doubt

But each time, it’s easier just to close the door and walk away

Deal with them some other day.

But how long til someone stops risking to open the door?

Should I Go?

Should I go home?

The question follows me like a shadow.

Sometimes I feel so alone.

But then the sun hits my face

and a palm tree sways in the breeze

and for a minute, the loneliness is erased.

Should I go home?

It weighs constantly on my mind,

But I've never had such greats friends on my own.

My girls are there for me through good and bad

and back at home,

this is something I never had.

Should I go home?

When I'm there I feel so out of place

and find myself in public off in my zone.

I realize that an outsider is what I've become.

their lives and mine don't seem to fit.

Can this be changed? What can be done?

Should I go home?

Are you going to be worth the risk?

Codependence I refuse to condone,

but you might be worth the sacrifice.

Please tell me, should I go home?

Are You Ready?

To Whom It May Concern:

If I chose you, could you handle it? Sure, from there I look like a pretty good deal. Pushed away and held at arm's length you can't see the flaws. The broken heart, the anger that lies just beneath the calm surface, the glare behind the smile, the tears and silent sea that floats under my eyes. The secrets of my heart will never be exposed to you. You will never really know me because you can't. I will slip away into silence in the middle of a party. I will yell at you for things that are not your fault and never could be. I will try to control your life because it's easier than controlling my own. I will constantly complain about details that are unfixable and unimportant. I will cry at things that are sad to no one else. I will never be 100% sure on anything; including you. I will talk incessantly and make threats that will appear real for about five minutes. I will hit you and scream and then regret it immediately afterwards. I will beg for your forgiveness until I know I have it and then do something else to piss you off. I will hate you more passionately than I have ever felt.

I will love you too much. I will do everything I can to make you be everything you share with me and more. I will constantly push you to do better. I will look forward to seeing you at night and spending our weekend mornings in bed until noon. I will spend hours thinking of the perfect date and then laugh when it flops. I will laugh and make you laugh harder than you ever have. I will charm you into my way most of the time. I will win most arguments and let you know that I've won just in case you didn't realize it. I will paint our house in bright colors that you will hate and cook meals that we can't pronounce. I will leave miniature disasters for you to clean and break things that you can't fix. I will expect you to earn the money while I raise the kids that I had on a whim. I will be everything you wanted and what you can't stand. I hope you realize what you're getting yourself into.

Are you ready?

Lists

Things I love about you...

#1. You never let our conversations end on a bad note.

#2. You don't use words cheaply.

#3. You make me more patient and more considerate.

#4. You drive a beat-up Taurus with no a/c.

#5. You listen when we argue.

#6. You argue back.

#7. You call for no reason.

#8. You beat me in sports. All sports.

#9. Your friends love their girlfriends/wives.

#10. You're dedicated to anything you commit to.

#11. You love your family and they love you.

#12. You take your mom ice cream for no reason.

#13. You get excited over simple things.

#14. You're successful in whatever you put your mind to.

#15. You have a picture of us in your room and there are dust marks underneath it.

Things I dislike about you

#1. You text all the time

#2. You ignore me for baseball.

#3. You don't know how to have a relationship.

#4. You cling to your past.

#5. You're overly organized.

#6. You work long hours for no extra pay.

#7. You delay answers that will annoy me/others.

#8. You can't say no.

#9. Any type of new experience intimidates you.

#10. You live in Freeburg and are totally content with it.

#11. You won't call me your girlfriend (which is what I am).

I love lists.

They give a sense of purpose.

They're a distraction

from boring classes

boring meetings

grading and homework and

reality.

I make lists of reality

but rarely are they completed.

I make to-do lists for events

that cannot possibly be completed

for months.

I know I'll lose the list by then

but I write it anyway.

I carelessly toss it into a bag

lose it

start over.

A vicious cycle of ignoring reality.