Freckles

Still, there are days
where i cant stand to look
at my reflection in the mirror.
And you know why
just as well as i know why.
See, every freckle matches yours.
your cheek looks as if my
cheek has forced
a freckle upon yours
in the exact same spot.
It's as if we were cursed
at birth to be the same.
But every line you rehearsed
proves that we will never be the same.
Like we were born
with letters
that were meant to be torn
and flipped backward.
Mine were torn of course,
i couldn't bear to tear yours
apart, because of the remorse
that would fill me for ruining
everything you knew.
Instead i let it ruin me.
I let everything i've ever
known get torn up and
flipped, so i never
feel safe from you.
I'll never be safe.
always backwards
A.A.R.
Never R.A.A.

....and i hate you for it...

Asking Too Much

I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. Tell me—knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school. If you were walking by a chemical plant, where smoke stacks were filling the sky with dark, black clouds, would you holler, “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud or would whisper, “That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy”? Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea? And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me? See, I wanna know if you believe in any god, or if you believe in many gods. Or better yet, what gods believe in you. And for all the times you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you’ve asked come true? And if they didn’t did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who[m]? I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. If you ever reach enlightenment, will you remember how to laugh? Have you ever been a song? Would you think less of me if I told you I have lived my entire life a little off key and I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry I just plagiarized the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence. Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence? And if you do I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds. And if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon that if you wanted to you could pop—but you never would because you’d never want it to stop. If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it, if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness? And lastly, let me ask you this: if you and I went for a walk, and the entire walk we didn’t talk, do you think eventually we’d kiss? No way. That’s askin’ too much—after all, this is only our first date.

-Andrea Gibson-

"I smashed my glass slipper to build a stained glass window for every wall inside my chest."

Last night i had a dream. You were there. I remember looking around and seeing a playground to my right and the woods to my left. i was under a tree. A beautiful tree with a canopy of leaves, and the sun shown through. I could hear the woodpeckers in the trees. You were so close i could reach out and touch your face if i wanted. I smiled and layed back in the grass. Then i saw the sunset over the river. I never wanted to wake up, but i didn't have much choice. I went back today, for real though, not in my dream. The park, i mean. Not the river. My sister was asleep in the passenger seat. I snuck out of the car trying not to wake her. I didn't mean to end up there. I just had to for some reason. But when i got out to where i needed to be, it was all different. The leaves were gone, and the clouds covered everything. I sat down anyway. I thought maybe it would help? It didn't. In fact. It made everything ten times worse. I sat and cried under an ugly, leafless tree today. Yeah, i am THAT lame.

Three days in a row now i have had the same effing dream. I figured maybe i could have a decent night's sleep if I went there and realized that there was nothing there anymore. Not even the surroundings are the same. It feels like everything has changed with the seasons. I know EVERYONE gives me this "suck it up. its not that difficult" look. And quite frankly, i don't care anymore.

sometimes i think i just look a mess. i don't see it. but i guess everyone else does. There are over 1000 students in my school and the school counselor asks me if i need anything or if i'm okay... every freaking day. i wish i looked decent enough for people to just stop wondering what's wrong with me. I'm fine. As long as i'm occupied. But here lately i just get this way all the time.

Anyway. whatever.
Goodnight.