Tag: boys

Messy

I am a mess.

 

My mind stops working and my words start falling

Out of my mouth like the clumsy ramblings

Of a middle school girl who doesn’t know

How to talk to boys yet.

 

I feel the corners of my mouth move involuntarily

When I look at you and see you smile.

Fire brushes my fingers when I touch your hair

Or hold your hand

And feel warmth creep up my body,

But I know I am holding onto borrowed time.

 

I am used to being the one leaving–

Jumping from state to state like a nomad

With no sense of place,

But my movement hits pause while yours hits play in a new city,

And I am met with this restless uncertainty

That settles over me as days grow shorter, nights longer,

And sleep fades away.

 

I don’t want you to fade, so I’ll keep my eyes open

And concentrate on the soft lines of your face

And the crooked way your mouth grins

As if you’re up to something.

 

I’ll trace my fingers over the parts of you

That give me warmth, comfort,

And a space to fit my body in some part of the living.

 

I’m going to miss walking with you while the city falls silent

Beneath old stone buildings and bell towers.

 

I’ll miss the ramen noodles with karaoke

And late night movies that went on for hours.

 

I’ll miss this span of time between the spaces of your fingers,

but I like this piece I get to have for now.

 

And when now turns into then,

I’ll remember the moments

When I listened to your voice in a city asleep.

 

This is Not a Black and White Story

I am scared of a lot of things.

I’m scared of ISIS, terrorism, disease, and people hiding in the dark, waiting for people like me. I am scared of him. I am scared of being alone, and having no one to go to. I am scared of disappointing my parents, getting pregnant before I get married, and not making it into grad school. I am scared of school. I am scared of losing everything, and dying before I get the chance to live,

But I love running outside in my bare feet, and making up words to songs. I love driving when everyone else is sleeping, and pretending like I am the only person left in a small country town with a name no one seems to remember. I love talking about nonsensical things with friends, and drinking underneath the stars that fall along the river.

My fears will not stop me from walking outside, and breathing in freshly cut grass, or the crisp mornings lining my windows. My fears will never leave me, but my love for life, and for people, will fuel enough excitement and energy to search for more.

More than black and white, and more than memories left behind in pictures.

I am writing this blog so I can continue to move past the darkness pressing into my sides, cutting into my lungs, while I look into my past. I want to breathe again, but first–I need to start from the beginning. Or maybe from the middle.

This is me.