"and the hunger returns."
I hear my roommates' moans through the walls
like distant sirens
echoes of faraway things
a reminder of disconnected events
and when the moon is in the sky
white edges behind velvet clouds
i walk alone
turquoise shoes on wet concrete
blonde curls like a banner behind me
and it's alone in the world i feel the best now
though
i see so many things i wish to share - i think of possibilities, and wonder, and long
for what bec and bri have
for the looks i see between couples
but i don't want falseness.
i'm afraid of sub-par feelings
i broke up with tim because i knew
he could never be my partner
and we'd gone too far into our relationship to go back to dating. there's a line drawn in the sand.
he would never love adventures - being outside, and beauty, and joy, and sex, and fires
with the fervor i feel
though some days i miss our warm apartment and quiet ease terribly.
i sometimes think i'm too wild to fit into anyone else's world. too much myself.
going into the woods when i was young, with sticks and books and my vegetarian lunches and cats at my heels broke something in me
that made me want to be anything but what i feel. i didn't learn to socialize or be socialized. i just learned to drink with my eyes.
i struggled against it as a teen but now it seems like time
loneliness is better than self-delusion in my book
and there's a light to it
alone in the night with music and rain and the moon
all i need is a reedy voice and beautiful heartbreak in my ears to hold me down
i looked down gravely street to see the city spread before me, aglow, science world a huge glittering orb, and the tiny pinpricks of cars' lights were moving faintly
lights shining off of grouse mountain farabove
and vancouver an i have a love affair now - an affair of potential and of shining sharp edges
i like walking by houses in east van
none of them look terribly overdone... there are a lot of climbable trees
everyone's awake at night - lights shine through windows
once i passed a house that i love. it's beautiful and wooden and has a rambly garden. there were lit tea candles all through the window. i could see a blanket over the back of a couch. seeing someone else's home exist.
the worst feeling in the world
is not to smile into the night - grin into the headlights of passing cars
pass mystery on - feeling the night
it's lying on your side next to someone - but alone
feeling promiscuous for wanting physicality
crying yourself sick over feeling unloved
all i wanted was to retreat to terrace and dive into lakelse's inky depths.
i am worthier than that.
beca told me not to stay there. and i told her i had a bush rave and a return ticket to attend to. a much-intended hookup to make.
too many unexplored corners here and everywhere to return to my heartland anytime soon.
thanks for making me stronger, vancouver. and for helping me with my options.
now i know.
so i came home last night with flowers in my mittened hands.
and moonglow in my hair.
i tried to brush it out later. it just dripped all over my bed.