Just How

Were you

Waiting for me to realize just how much we...

Just how big this

Just how warm you

Wanted to be if things could expand

Hoping I'd keep coming back to the dreamland 

Where our connection was building

Feelings.

Forming but inside a bubble

Reflecting and swirling a sticky-sweet rainbow

Watching the column of color drizzle

Sensing the barrier holding that shinning creation

Could only thin until it popped with the weight of it

Holding it together

But with translucence

Burst in one honest moment outside the vacuum 

Free.

Clarity, like one healing tonic

Temporarily.

Were you 

Waiting for me to realize

Just how much we

Just how big this

Just how impossible within a poppable dreamland 

These colors were swirling and covering

Wishing we could just go on discovering

Pretending it all still fits in the translucent coloring

Were you 

Waiting

Hoping we'd never realize

Never acknowledge just how dreamland 

Poppable. Impossible.

creation ideal

there was her

the description and portrayal together screamed one thing to you:

--Ideal.--

Adoration poured out of you

Partly because the talent in writing shone through

The creation of a character so perfectly crafted

that compared to all else you'd feel utterly shafted

not real, yet ideal

and you wanted her. 

then there was me

in accord that her existence and quirks also filled me with glee

We admired and laughed at how silly and free

But had I stopped to be?

There was her.

There was me.

For you.

keepsake of a thought

 whatever you were going to say

keep it for now and let it play

don't fret on the how or the where or the way

just let it fill you for maybe one day

one day when the keepsake of a thought

could shine out in a space where it ought

Let the dream and the happy build hope rather than fraught

so allow it to swim around instead of get caught

allowing movement of a dream where it resides

until one day to trust where two keepsakes collide

Immobilized

Immobilized.

From caring so much but the care feels different now

From prying open the lid to crack through just how

all this time of trying to try

and realizing I have enough inside me to cry

and then feeling numb to engagement as I

sort through it all...

Immobilized, though I want to show care.

Feeling warmness from others, I want to show I'm there

Too.

So I engage, but something feels 

Incomplete.

Can't compete. Too many thoughts competing.

Immobilized.

verdict

I can tell you want a verdict

and I'm giving the wrong one

wrong for someone always

wrong for else or am I the one?

Am I the wrong?

Or am I the right but for too many

Too many things to consider to be able to choose

Too many things to possibly lose

So instead of choosing happy, you choose less loss

Less discomfort, less pushback, less cost

But neither cost is wanted and neither does the trick

Which is why I keep waffling on a verdict

Space & Everything

When you say everything,

Do you mean everything?

You say some things are quiet for you, okay maybe

not quiet but slow.

Makes me wonder, with my patterns and pacing

how that would go.

Would I overwhelm

overuse the space

not know how to pace or give grace for the trace

of new in a place where we've existed for so long?

Well not long, but we've lived so deeply in it

That I wonder what it would feel like to win it.

Would we un-spin a weave so tightly wound

and feel free knowing now it has no bounds

or would the wide open show just how bare the unknown is

and vast

would it pop, fizz, then pitter and clash?

leaving just space.

Space for anything

Space for everything

Space for knowing again and getting to know

When you say everything,

Do you mean everything?

That space for knowing

would it have bounds

because of the things in our hearts that cannot be rewound?

Everything.

All the things.

Shared.

We think we know ourselves but are we really prepared

for the visibility, vulnerability, that would exist in that space?

An open room with the twinkling lights of what we started

splashed with the colors of what we already knew

Before there was you.

Am I curious?

Do I want to know what you might say?

Do I want to know you?

A dream world where that can play.

Is "everything" really everything when neither allow

It's good to be present but are we caught up in the now

so much that we don't broaden and heal and grow...

If we had the space what would it show?

Everything?

Do you really mean everything?

A heart that pleads/A letter from the heart

 Are you curious?

Do you want to know what I might say?

Do you want to know me?

That's okay.

Unacknowledged.

Find a way to express

Is trapped knowledge

Of my own experience

Sticking to me -- finding ways to pinch and press?

A desire to know and to understand

To reach out and see if you'd take my hand

These swirling thoughts, would they ever become plans?

Will you let me speak freely and take a stand?

Rather than the trapping and wrapping my impressions away

in boxes tucked perfectly so they'll stay

Unacknowledged.

Are you curious?

Do you want to know what I might say?

Do you want to know me?

That's okay.

Turn the feelings into knowledge

The wonderings to something concrete

Allow to process and be complete

To fold out the boxes instead of retreat

Unacknowledged.

Reach Out

 Mentally planning to reach out

Only to freeze up and not

When the distance and space you thought you'd have to prepare

And gear up

Closed more quickly than you anticipated

Entice. Tease. Request. Implore.

All the same connection we're vying for.

Worry and excitement, inseparable twins

Linked in a pattern so the heart can win

Running through the paths where my thoughts spin

Looking for something to express, akin

To what I desire to have or be

The messy and tangled of thoughts left unvoiced

Beside clacks of bangles of words I've made the choice

The share

Even though part of me wishes to erase

To go back to before you knew

Return to the chase

Of finding me

Not binding or blinding me

Walled off with doubt

To before all those spills you now know about.

Of building this person who's puzzled, corrupt

Willing my thoughts to interrupt

And find ME

Authentic and refusing to hide

But maybe it's better to keep the unfinished inside

No. No more magic in jars.

It's time to unscrew the cap

Let it fly to the stars.

Whole

 when breath only loops around the throat and chest

sipping down to the heart like a straw

tight,  unfullfilling, surface

while breathing is meant to push life through the veins

into the arms, legs, down to the feet

life to feel refreshed and whole

deep and complete

Once upon a time you brought me peanut butter M&Ms

For anyone interested in mapping out my heart a bit, this one is connected to this other poem.

Once upon a time you brought me peanut butter M&Ms

Was it love, was it longing, was it hope?

Shaking with emotion as my heart tried to cope

with the realizations I was making about you.

Then in ensuing months as it threatened to come back

And I wanted to accept the thoughts with grace

I let myself feel the feelings

tried not to judge

because I thought maybe I should learn from them before they can budge.

Mixed up with those few times you asked

and I refused.

Wondering if those chances should have been used

if I was pushing not to choose

and if I should not have let us lose

what ended up being the only...

The only chance to make more of those talks on the bench-seat

(on the bench, green stripe

helping me to see the light)

DENIED.

But denied by myself or denied by an else.

So as I let the feelings flow

to observe them and not quite let go

the way I talked to you I thought would show

And so I sat in suspense.

And then nothing.

No indication of a smile, or even a glimpse of deja vu

Nothing to reaffirm the personality I was assigning to you.

To a past you

Who admired me,

inspired me

a special feeling I've been missing

why to those thoughts I've been trying to listen.

FLATTENED.

Opened so much and tapped into the past.

Past me who could talk about these things

Expecting that certain ring...

And I felt it,

Oh, it is so.

But nothing reflecting to show

to let me know

if any of the light I gave caused a glow.

Making too much of a feeling of mine

but then looping back to once upon a time

when you brought me peanut butter M&Ms.

Smitten

I believe that, sometimes, it's cathartic to think back and to feel emotions long gone, feelings about parts of your story that are long closed. Our past selves are part of our present self. It's helpful for me to be in tune with myself in this way. Maybe these poetic musings of mine will be cathartic to someone else out there, too.

I was so incredibly

undeniably

smitten with you.

I knew, somewhere in me, the types did not--would not

That I would be forever flustered by your attention

or lack thereof.

 I wondered:

If I was more alluring, more enticing,

less needy

less available

If I would have been viable to you.

Because it wasn't that you weren't ready.

It was that you knew a lack of steady

would be you -- smitten with me.

What changed?

What difference?

Why now a reaction?

"Nothing,"

his response.

Just my persistence

but not even a fraction

of himself did he trust to remain. To give.

To allow to see me and live

in the idea of us.

You could pretend, but were also honest

And I, honest with you and myself said

I was so incredibly

undeniably

smitten with you

That just pretend

I could not do.

The Visual, A Dream

 THE VISUAL, A DREAM.

Combining memories and making new.

Recalling what it was like with you

On the bench, green stripe

Helping me to see the light

To be the light

I wanted to be.

Fondness

But conflict

I was pressing against

Expectations

Both and un-expressed

Like I wanted to tempt

My mind away from the known

Denied desire, maybe.

I wanted to be.

I couldn't see

The light.

It began to creep in and we realized

Just how drowsy for the hours we

Had led on and on.

The whole night was gone.

Recollecting

Reconnecting

Redefining

What heart pining

Could mean in my new context.

Too complex.

Too unknown to know.

Mind away from the known...

Could I never have been

There with that certain ring.

Denying the thought for the feeling of aught.

Same then

Same now

But not quite

Different how, now I see more light.

Whole light

But not quite

Just closer to full

Or not?

So I thought a right choice would make full.

Why must the mind reach away from the known.

Is it dullness, is it suspense

I want to be shown

It's hard to say just what.

Denied desire, maybe.

But denied by an else or denied by myself.

Combining memories and making new.

Remember what it was like with you.

What I was like with you.

I see.

Who I wanted to be.

Recollecting.

Reconnecting.

BLANK SLATE

a foundation

sure in it's makeup but not application

my heart a blank slate, ready to be crafted

without hesitation

defined and designed by another's care and words

refined yet confined by everything is heard

a malleable heart, molded to another

but what to do when the two go asunder?

so ready to be painted by your color and lines

so ready...

allow tainted by unplanned design

unplanned? un-canned. untapped.

contrived to thrive unwrapped.

Fit.

it doesn't fit
it never will
so stop trying to try

convinced yourself
to have your fill
must have that reply

all this left wanting
ideas of it haunting
prodding until
you must address
and confess
the effect is still

there.
where.
trying to find.

swimming and spinning
no peace of mind
of any kind

open again
when you thought it was closed
it didn't fit
it never would
so what am I supposed

to do
to think
re do
re think
new hit
to fit

They Call It

memory, they call it
pieces all floating, mixed-matching and coating
doating and bloating and close to exploding
searching for meaning in all that is muted
with options teeming but each part polluted

pixels cross over and translucent bend
wondering if those fragments can friend
or if what they call memory has an end
where memory itself cannot comprehend
for what it is called just means a blend

colors transparent sail from base to base
DATA.
creating a presence more face to face
BETA.

they call it memory
and some call it me
some call it you, we, he, or she
as a plea
pushing forth "identify me"
pressing and pulling till all want to quit
for pieces all going they flicker and flit

when all glassy colors fall into a pit
memory.
they call it.

written Oct 25, 2016 at 12:14am

Closed

the most open of all
and yet petals stuck
always answer any call
but doesn't each pluck
each unexpected tug
pull a plug
on connection
affection

flowers so delicate they blow in the wind
something so intricate and go shake and blend

walls I thought dismantled
holding steady, afresh
built back up but gentle
is this a test?

Soda

I adore that we got read cream soda

Because you love it so much.

It still surprises me each time

How I just melt at your touch.

Your embrace, your face, your many a gaze

My heart can't pull away

And often neither my eyes.

My eyes your cries from perfectionism pries

Because I see countless tries and tries.

Calm.

Remember.

I'm here.

Hold on to faith and don't let fear

Pull you from hope, from love, from care

For others because you know with your heart you'll succeed.

Not just but exceed.

Just like you've done so with me.

Expectations exceeded in many a way.

And our entire relationship with expectations it plays.

And still I remember your gaze.

Your embrace.

The one I melt under like no other.

And I'll always cherish red cream soda(er). ;)

Chipped

chipped nail polish still makes a beautiful shape

I'm surprised I've punched through from that land of escape

punched through? or overcome or ignored for my heart has implored

that I not get stuck there again. Because stuck I was but

not all of my own accord. 

Pulled in and trapped but have you gotten out before?

Or was that furthering into escape even more?

You're scared of that word.

The one you were reminded of with the chipped red polish.

It's messy. It looks broken but somehow still feels classy.

But not so much that it's stifled, for cracks let light in.

Receive it. 

Let that shining red word lead instead of fear.

You know yourself enough so let yourself be it.

You know enough.

About you. About him. About Him.

To move forward.

Polish still chipped,

But fingers equipped.

It all still works, you discovered when the switch was flipped.

Flipped by realizations, his and yours.

When fear wanted to trampoline-bounce the emotions he pours

But you wanted to let it open the doors -- and it did, oh it did!

With words so sincere and anxiety thick on both ends.

It's interesting though from it your heart needed no amends.

It was welcome. Is welcome.

The thought draws you in.

And you dare to imagine how that red feels on your skin.

It's new and nostalgic all at the same time

You keep needing to convince yourself it's no crime

To let it come through the cracks and be part of the chips

To let your heart brighten because of the switch he flips.

And maybe the chips will turn into clicks.

Connections that sew and so together clip.

So let your mind flip

and your heart take a dip

as you choose to fully immerse

in this trip.

Sent

 I felt like I should send this to somebody, so I'm sending it to you.

I'm not quite sure why it is but

somehow color blue.

Maybe it's the wave that came because I saw her dance.

My sister who I love so much that my tear ducts had no chance.

Even the most simple of movements brought a lump into my throat.

So much to feel and I'm wondering if it's real or if my heart is confused.

Confused and overused as I've tried so hard to try.

When I'm not sure if me and my heart ever see eye to eye...

Well not EVER but definitely not now.

Sometimes I feel so fake...

just wondering if it's all a facade because more REAL I cannot take.

Real is scary. Real means risk. Real means making mistakes.

But isn't that better?

I feel in a sense that's more full.

Even though it's harder

I know the result is more whole.

And I want to be real and shake off this constant wall of nerves.

To really connect and be sure that I'm heard and not have to worry saying all the right words.

That's what I want but I'm beginning to feel like I block myself from it.

I. Block. Myself.

And then she/I can't get out.

I want her OUT I don't want to be trapped inside this mystery shell. 

This shell that makes no sense because I know better. But it's still there and to something is tethered.

I want to find that poll 

and TAKE IT OUT.

Maybe I've become a fulfillment scout.

Searching for connection when the franticness of it

Is what's blocking it out.

I still don't know who I'm sending this to.

Maybe it's you.

Skydust.

Skydust.

creating the era

where expression was slow

where any sort of care

had a different way to show

where ink and quill governed

and time spanned between

two pieces untethered

from two separate scenes

let’s create the mystic

let’s learn how to dance

let’s be the misfits

and trust in a chance

a chance to test if it’s only just

words

or if an openness must

be heard

a glimmer of starlight

with sparkling in mist

one traveling through so bright

like skydust was kissed

reflect on the river the moon ascends

make ready the quiver of previous amends

then shoot so it soars

and now descends

burst open the moon

and it’s skydust again.