(no subject)
---
There's a straight line between us, even if I must climb mountains.
Dear traveller,
I left my wine-drunk romance in
your suitcase, so it might thrive under Spanish sun. I
hear the colours are lovely;
tell me,
have you ever wished my eyes were bluer?
(I
miss
you
within the
parentheses of my eyelashes,
the grammatical structure of my tearducts.
Dot-dot-iris.
My love is a constant state of ellipses between the
half-moons of my fingernails and the angles of your hips,
and my pupils
hyphens between my drop-stitch nouns.
You-me.
I like to pretend it's that easy.
I have nothing else to say.)
And it's all right if you don't send postcards,
but if you happen to uncover a watch-pin in the sand, I only ask that
you pin our veins together so
I might stop bleeding out.
---
I'm just bored, to be honest. I've nothing to say or do or write.
Acually, that came out wrong. I mean to say, I'm not as lost as this poem might lead you to think. I'm actually really good right now - just had the most amazing conversation with Sarah Lou about... well, sex. And how she wants to buy me a librarian outfit for my birthday, and a "basket of sex goodies". My friends are kind of amazing, you know? I love being a girl.
And in a way, this is nice. Seeing so much of my friends. It's just... good. I think this is good. I think, by the time you get back, I'll miss you enough to all but tackle you the minute I see you, but that in itself is a good thing.
It's weird, though. Suddenly, eight weeks doesn't seem that long. Somehow, it doesn't feel like you're gone. We've done a good job of staying in touch, and I'm busy with a million things, and it almost feels normal. I just have these moments, now, where it twists a little inside.
You're on my mind pretty much constantly, which is another reason you don't feel so far away; with you in the back of my thoughts all day, it's almost like seeing you. :p Maybe I'll feel differently eight weeks from now; I kind of hope so, actually. I really want that super-intense reunion moment.
Anyway. It's super late, so I'm gone for the night.
There's a straight line between us, even if I must climb mountains.
Dear traveller,
I left my wine-drunk romance in
your suitcase, so it might thrive under Spanish sun. I
hear the colours are lovely;
tell me,
have you ever wished my eyes were bluer?
(I
miss
you
within the
parentheses of my eyelashes,
the grammatical structure of my tearducts.
Dot-dot-iris.
My love is a constant state of ellipses between the
half-moons of my fingernails and the angles of your hips,
and my pupils
hyphens between my drop-stitch nouns.
You-me.
I like to pretend it's that easy.
I have nothing else to say.)
And it's all right if you don't send postcards,
but if you happen to uncover a watch-pin in the sand, I only ask that
you pin our veins together so
I might stop bleeding out.
---
I'm just bored, to be honest. I've nothing to say or do or write.
Acually, that came out wrong. I mean to say, I'm not as lost as this poem might lead you to think. I'm actually really good right now - just had the most amazing conversation with Sarah Lou about... well, sex. And how she wants to buy me a librarian outfit for my birthday, and a "basket of sex goodies". My friends are kind of amazing, you know? I love being a girl.
And in a way, this is nice. Seeing so much of my friends. It's just... good. I think this is good. I think, by the time you get back, I'll miss you enough to all but tackle you the minute I see you, but that in itself is a good thing.
It's weird, though. Suddenly, eight weeks doesn't seem that long. Somehow, it doesn't feel like you're gone. We've done a good job of staying in touch, and I'm busy with a million things, and it almost feels normal. I just have these moments, now, where it twists a little inside.
You're on my mind pretty much constantly, which is another reason you don't feel so far away; with you in the back of my thoughts all day, it's almost like seeing you. :p Maybe I'll feel differently eight weeks from now; I kind of hope so, actually. I really want that super-intense reunion moment.
Anyway. It's super late, so I'm gone for the night.