what i should be doing...
is not what i'm doing.
what i'm doing is shifting through journals. journals upon journals. because i had a dream last night, of harkness, and when i googled him today [as apt to do] i found him in his brother's wedding announcement. he married his highschool girlfriend. he cheated on her with me. well, define cheat. it was close enough. the heat, the heart, it was there.
i like to let people fill in the blanks, then i don't have to deny or admit anything.
so i wanted to find the journal where these days took place, you know, a bit of nostalgia. what i found, instead, were ripped out holes, pieces and pages. the need to shift through them all, collect every thought, every word. hold it close. soak them through my skin, hold it all back in.
it ended with a clothbound black journal, unlined pages falling from the seam. in the back, sometime after crooked upside down words, quotes, poems, comics, there was doug's debut.
every giddy gleeful hoping word. every unspoken desire, every wish, constricted with a superstition that if i speculated too much he'd disappear into thin air.
these are the things i need to be holding on to.
it's so late, every moment i fall behind. i want to give it up, responsibility and school, to just sit in this room and read every page....rewrite every word across my heart.
what i'm doing is shifting through journals. journals upon journals. because i had a dream last night, of harkness, and when i googled him today [as apt to do] i found him in his brother's wedding announcement. he married his highschool girlfriend. he cheated on her with me. well, define cheat. it was close enough. the heat, the heart, it was there.
i like to let people fill in the blanks, then i don't have to deny or admit anything.
so i wanted to find the journal where these days took place, you know, a bit of nostalgia. what i found, instead, were ripped out holes, pieces and pages. the need to shift through them all, collect every thought, every word. hold it close. soak them through my skin, hold it all back in.
it ended with a clothbound black journal, unlined pages falling from the seam. in the back, sometime after crooked upside down words, quotes, poems, comics, there was doug's debut.
every giddy gleeful hoping word. every unspoken desire, every wish, constricted with a superstition that if i speculated too much he'd disappear into thin air.
these are the things i need to be holding on to.
it's so late, every moment i fall behind. i want to give it up, responsibility and school, to just sit in this room and read every page....rewrite every word across my heart.