Cool Fire Fall

The wet fallen amber leaves cling to the windows of my car as I drive down the windy road. The adrenaline pumps through their veins as they enjoy the last thrill of their lives. The wind sneaks underneath one that is the color of fire, lifts it off the glass and charms it into a beautiful and quick paced dance. I reach out and gently grab a leaf that is flapping up and down as to say hello and run the slick autumn between my fingers.



Photo Cred: "Artodin" this AMAZING Taiwanese photog (with a really cute dog) that I stumbled upon on Flickr. Check him out!

The bus jerks and helpless bodies echo.

She excitedly flung her sweatered arms around his neck, stole one more smiley kiss. He lovingly grabbed her hand, frolicked across the street as it were a beach. Unable to contain their raw joy wildly radiating from their bright faces in this cool fall.

Some people say "we need to talk," I monologue.

2.10.09
My words seem to flow in scripted form in ways that my mouth finds impossible.
So, I can swear up and down a Birchwood that my skin is synonymous with steel, but against all resistance, emotions have seeped through…melting away my bulwark…leaving me vulnerable to the elements.
Though I’m uncertain of what I want, I know I’m frustrated.
In my mind, I’ve decided that you’ve decided that your interest is minimal. I know this isn’t fair, but it seems to be easier to think there is some kind of certainty in the fog of intangibles.
Is this situation that is “unprogressive casual” meant to stay stagnant, or die off? I seem to find myself in these interim situations often, which probably says something about me, and I usually let the progressive atrophy or organic “fizzle out” take its course after frustrated head scratching or partial drowning in my own cloud of thought bubbles. I know if I don’t say something, I would begin my intricate process of mental deconstruction of the situation and self-sabotage. It really is quite an intricate process! By saying something, I’m giving you the opportunity to respond…or not to respond.
We haven’t even slightly touched on all the bits of baggage that we’ve collected and tightly packed into our bindle sticks. So, I have no idea…really…where you are coming from in your relationship past. I will admit, this has been some strategic dodging; afraid what the answers are, and afraid to disclose the scathes of my past that can be dismissively laughed at as trifling matter. This doesn’t mean I’m not about to be offed by the culprit that killed the cat. Except, my curiosity is coy and careful. I’m actually intrigued by everything about you, especially that which seems to lay under the surface.
My life seems to be filled with lots of uncertainty, pumping my veins to full capacity with crazed energy…
I just need to actively try to sort some of these things out.
I’m hoping this will spark some real life conversation, regardless of discomfort or any other impediments we (predominantly I) can imagine up. Maybe a conversation where you can shed some light, clarity, frustration, etc. with some back and forth action? Or maybe, not? I know a similar conversation was had, but I think a more explanatory and perhaps decisive discourse is warranted.

Smitten with the beautiful unknown.

12.15.08

Our sweetly remembered exchanges blanketed by thick and heavy intoxication,

details blurred at the edges.
I was magnetized to you with a pull so strong and inexplicable,

I crumbled at any sign of effort from you.

All our interactions tipsied by the prefacing wild night,

making something out of nothing at all.

What was I so infatuated by when I didn't even have a handful of your real soul to hold on to?

Fabricated ideas of you filled the gaping holes your outspoken humor shoddily tried to caulk.
I was chasing you with such stamina when all you wanted to do was hide.

Even without knowing you I couldn't help but want to be near you.

The night that I will never forget,

the night that I still swear magic played some part in,

is a little charm I hold deep in the soul of my pocket.
I don't remember a single conversation from that star-filled darkness,

but instead the electricity that ran through our bones and sparked between our lips...

The uncontrollable violent laughter that nearly knocked me off the quiet sleeping metal dinosaurs we climbed in the middle of all the construction...

the silence that we peacefully floated in,

breathing in the damp warm summer laying with our limbs in a circle...

I inhaled your exhale dreading the moment when life would disrupt the perfection of this dream.

Thinking if I held on tight enough,

kissed you long enough,

I could postpone morning.

As morning came as it always does, we played our game a little longer.

I still never knew how you felt about anything.

Whether you thought of me with a smile and maybe half the kindness my thoughts held,

or as simply a lovely meaningless distraction.

I eventually grew weary and defeated and did what I could only imagine you had been hoping for...

I pretended to move on.

I did everything in my power to pretend so hard it eventually transformed into a bitter and angry reality.

As time passed, she did as she usually does and laid her healing hands on my wounds.

Fate chuckled as she put you back in my life...

though this time, forcefully platonic with distance as a reinforcement.

Slowly layers of you peel away, seductively revealing bits of your core.

Instead of disappointing me, you measure up against my crafted fabrications,

you prove you are better than I ever remembered.

That I wasn't addicted to you simply because you were out of reach,

but the quality of your substance merited my desire.

flaws stroked with heavy hands still blare in deep dark ink which keep me from revisiting the pain of butterflies flapping so hard with paper thin glass wings,
but at least now I can see beauty in the mess and slide rose-colored lenses over my 20/20 hindsight.

[Rothko No. 14 (my fav. painting)]