a glimpse!

So Katherine from Sleepless Cities has tagged me! So I have to tell you what's on the floor by my bed and on my nightstand.

Well lucky for me, I cleaned my room yesterday for the first time in forever, so right now there isn't too much on the floor by my bed because it has all been conveniently relocated to underneath my bed. There are three or four gift bags from my graduation. There is a lei... I actually have no idea where I managed to pick up a lei. There is a Learn to Speak French in 30 Days that I haven't even looked at.

On my nightstand there are upwards of 20 books. I'm currently reading Rachel Mckibbens' Pink Elephant. She is amazing. An empty cup. A notebook because I get all my greatest ideas at night. to be honest the notebook's empty because I'm too lazy to roll over and write in it What I like to call "the classics" because I assume they are classics for a reason, right? And if they're boring, and sometimes I don't understand it, there must be something wrong with me, right, and I must try and try again? The poetry book my teacher has assigned for the poetry class I'm taking this summer. Every night before I go to sleep I tell myself that I will read at least one chapter and do my homework. I still haven't gotten around to it. A boycott arizona button. i would hope that's self explanatory. If not read. A half eaten granola bar. Blank note cards. An amnesty international pen.

There you have it!
I'm going camping this weekend. If mother nature takes my life, know that I loved you all :]

Be love <3

i believe in magic

my imaginary friend
was an immigrant she had hair like a fairytale
and spoke only in french

she would open her mough
and doves would fly out
from between her lips
they would want to play

they would fly in circles
around my head like a halo singing
to the tune of my heavy beating heart
is there anyone in there?
they would ask

non i would answer in their language
to ashamed to admit
that i didn't know how to fly
n'ayez pas peur she would
whisper into my dreams
there is nothing to be afraid of

finally one summer night
i climbed out of my bed
and onto the window sill and waited
we flew to heaven on the bareback of a raven
it was magical






later that night as she tucked
me back into bed she asked me
if i finally believed
it was almost morning
i was drifting she shook me awake
and asked again with an urgency i didn't understand

croyez vous? croyez vous?
i knew it would be the last time i saw her
already she was fading i smiled
and tucked my wings around me before answering
yes, i believe in love

i'll miss you

"Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need to know of hell."
~Emily Dickinson


it's the things that we breathe in and hold in our lungs, the things that we let live beneath our skin that eventually poison us. always.
what do you do when the truths we speak turn into lies the minute they hit the air? how were we to know that our hearts kept secrets from us?

i was lonely, and i let you into me. i opened up wide, like the earth, and swallowed your secrets, kept them in my heart, in my lungs. we river rafted through the cold blood of my veins. you warmed me.

it's winter again, and i'm cold, so cold. it's the kind of cold that's lives forever behind your spleen- the kind of cold that makes your bones rattle like a million keys that have lost their locks.

teach me how to taste the sun. don't leave until i'm warm again.

call back

there used to be a telephone connected to my big toe. it was one of those olden day phones, that ones that you have to spin around and around like a carousel to dial someone's phone number, that way you don't call people you don't like when you're lonely or bored in the middle of the night. that way when you call someone it's deliberate.
this phone used to ring incessantly, but i never picked up. i would bury my feet in the sand, but the phone was so loud that when i strained my ears, i would hear it. and for some reason i would always press my head against the sand and listen for the faint rrrrriiiiing.

i hated the ring. i would hear it in my dreams. it would wake me up in the midst of an afternoon nap, or interrupt my thoughts.

i cut of my toe with kitchen scissors, and bled all over the sink. i tried to clean it up, but i missed a spot. every time i fetch an apple from the kitchen i see it on the counter, and it looks almost like gold in the light. the phone doesn't ring anymore. it sits on my vanity table, a token of the past, and rusts when the sun comes out.

i hobble.