dear maurice

there is something about you
and I feel like tonight I am stuck against a wall
wishing I had said something,
something at all.
I don't even know if you have a girlfriend
but in my mind
I can already see us
curled up, too big on an bed
too many long limbs
untop of eachother.

am i crying all the time because its the end of the year

am i cleansing myself for a new life,
am I thinking about how I can be better.
At Christmas I always am thinking about how I can be better.

things are far away..

sometimes I wonder if I'm missing out by being here.
I liked your face, but now your gone back to your big city.
and I'm stuck in this windy one.
You all felt strong and powerful and
mostly I liked your beard.
Can't get your face out of my head.

Sometimes, I wonder if I am doing all I can do.
Are all opportunities only there if you go for them, if you make more of an effort.
what is an opportunity?
Are men opportunities? are jobs? what is in this life that will make it something that you can't stop wanting to live everyday?

you never make my day

all you do is ruin it
when your stupid name flashes across the screen.
I want to delete you from facebook,
but then it would be like you never exsited at all.
like I never wasted a year of my fucking life wasting my time and energy
you are like a poison that creeps through my blood
and makes everything
dark
darker
darkest.

beep beep beep yeah!

sometimes I feel like a rat in a cage.
and at any moment I am going to explode and disappear.
and in this life there has to be something more.
something more meaningful I should be doing,
but is anything more meaningful then life?
Is life enough,
is time enough,
is getting by enough?

is love enough,
and if you don't have love, is there something else?
Is friends enough, is going out enough?
is having a lot of social engagments enough?

What is enough?
are some people simple?
for some people , is simple enough,
white dresses and rings make them happy?
can I be simple?

I would like to be simple then.
I would not like to have this thought, this train of thoughts going through my head all the time.
I would like to be easy.
not a complicated girl.

happiness

I havent let you go yet.
Yet sometimes for a moment, I have.

Crackbook keeps taunting me,
asking me to look at pictures,

pictures when I see you were capable of happiness.
I was not sure you were.

I thought you were a wounded bird.
But then I guess once,
you flew.

Dear J

dear J,

I bubbled up with anger this morning. As much as I try to shake you off, I can't.
You stick to me, like a dirty flea that has buried itself into my skin, and I can't seem to pluck it out.
Or I don't want to.
As much as I know it is bad for me. As much as I know it needs to go.
Why D told me, " I talked to J and he told me you are not talking to him."
I turned away with a shrug before I became a volcano, hot lava pouring out of me.

I am not the one, not talking to you.
You are the 33 year old / 13 year old.
The one who ignores rather than faces all of the mistakes he has made.
You are the one who can't seem to express how he feels, nor deal with what you have done.
What you have done is become a natural disaster in my life,
pulling me along for your own selfish reasons.
All the while knowing how you feel. How I feel.
Does it give you pleasure to mess with my feelings?
Is this something that gives you satisfaction?
Breaking someone apart?
Is it because someone broke you?
Rather than be put back together, you need to break me?

I have this fantasy where all of this was for something,
all of the last year ,
all of the wasted time.
Becomes worth it in the end.
You man up, you want more, you need more, you realize what a catch I am.
Oh, and I am!

Not even you, could bring me down from that.
You would be lucky to have me,
I would accept all of your faults.
I would accept who you are.

But then,
oh but then,
maybe I don't know who you are.
Maybe you wear a mask, a mask for everyone.
Maybe you are a deceiver,
a heart breaker,
maybe you have more than me.

If that's the case, then I've been faulted.
I was tricked.
Fraud of the year.
I believed,
for a minute,
I did. For 1 minute.
that maybe,
you had a kind kind heart, and an old soul.
One that wanted to take care of me,
one that wanted to be taken care of.

Have I always been wrong?