MIDNIGHT

I hope you remember me
in the midnights of yourself,
in the ten half moons that
cupped my face and confessed
your love for me on the
last Sunday of April.

How unpleasant it has been,
to only be seen by you when
the Sun has set and Nyx has
stained your vision with her poison.

Even at our best, it was always
with the help of another woman
that you saw my worth,
however temporarily.

I am beautiful too,
you know,
in the vulnerable streams of
daylight, the muted mixture of
sunshine particles and
exhaled pixie dust.

I am magic—
a witch, a deity, and a minx,
yanking oceans with the
center of my own gravity,
undoing the shackles you have
clasped around my ankles
just because I can. 

i wonder

i wonder, how often do you think of me?

is it every time you breathe and my mouth is not there to inhale a small sliver of your soul?

or is it every time you look up and your gaze is not met with my eyelashes brushing gently against your cheek?

or maybe it is every time your lips curl up into a smile and there is no one there to laugh at your crooked teeth.

or perhaps it is every time you furrow your brow in frustration and i am not there to smoothen your forehead with a kiss.

i wonder, do you even notice that i am no longer there?

or if when you breathe now, your lungs flutter with sighs of relief.

or if when you look up, all you see is clarity where mist once clouded your judgment -- your every thought.

or if when every time you smile, it is of release and of the realization that this is what you've always wanted -- to be alone.

or if when you furrow your brow, it is in genuine confusion as to why it took you so long to get here.

i wonder, how often do you regret the life i so terribly miss?

The Next Time Around

Maybe it’ll be better the next time around.

Because we’ll have grown into the people were were destined to be—- it’ll be so deeply rooted in our souls that even the strongest wind won’t be able to shake it.

And we’ll have grown into our skin and known what it’s like to fit into it perfectly, all on our own, without having to feel like we’re missing a limb whenever we’re apart.

And we’ll have known what it’s like to breathe without our lungs intertwined in our chests and our legs in the sheets and for the first time we will breathe fresh air that is not polluted by toxic love.

And we’ll have seen ourselves in the mirror for who we really are, and stared at reflections that are only ours, not yours and mine or mine and yours.

We’ll be whole, and we’ll be ready, and we’ll be better.

Because we must find peace as two before we can find peace as one.

At least that’s what I’d like to believe about the next time around. 

Maybe

We were the best

Because feet freak me out a lot

And you always made sure to have socks on when we went to bed

Maybe.

We were the best

Because sometimes you forgot to eat breakfast

And I knew that anything and chocolate milk was the way to go

Maybe.

We were the best

Because at night when I cried about the little things

You were there to cup my face and wipe my eyes

Maybe.

We were the best

Because I couldn’t swim to save my life

And you were all but a fish, and a fighter one, at that

Maybe. 

We were the best

Because biology just never made sense to me

And you had a strange love for science that I’ll never understand

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because I don’t know a single country song

And you’re well on your way to becoming the next country star

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because New York City makes you nervous

And I was born in the heart of its busy streets

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because you know you want to go to medical school

And I know that four years is a very, very long time

Maybe. 

It was for the best

Because we both love sleep way too much

And can never get up earlier than noon on any given Sunday

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because you insisted on growing out your beard

And it tickled every time we kissed

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because you hate it when people talk during movies

And I have too many questions spinning around in my mind to keep quiet

But maybe we were the best

And all these bullshit excuses

Are just a way to make it out to ourselves

That maybe, just maybe, it really was for the best

Here Lies the True Magic

When people talk about the magic of New York City, they always mention the flashing lights, the towering skyscrapers, and the endless amount of things to do. The Broadways plays, the restaurants, and the fashion sense: You name it, Manhattan's got it. But perhaps the true magic of the city that never sleeps lies within the silence. The silence drowned out by the subway performers who play the classics you know and love, the constant honking of taxi cabs trying to weave their way through traffic, and the chatter of tourists as they look up at landmarks they've only ever seen in postcards. The silence shared between two groups of pedestrians as they wait for the light to change. The intimacy suspended in the air between dozens of strangers as their busy days are halted for a second, or maybe thirty. For a single moment, two clusters of souls are forced to be as one until they all walk off in opposite directions and go on to live the rest of their lives, never to think about the mundane moment they just shared with humans they probably won't ever see again.

 

So much of our lives have been spent in silence, yet none of us take the time to really appreciate it. The time we spend on the subway, packed in like sardines, exchanging body heat with nameless faces, all of us with a certain destination in mind. The time we spend on line at our local coffee shop, too preoccupied with figuring out what we want to order to even exchange a simple hello with the person waiting next to us. The time we spend standing in a pit at a concert venue, impatient and complaining for the main act to come on, too consumed with what we want right then to realize that everyone around us shares a passion of ours. So much is being said in these silences, yet no one ever seems to be listening.

 

We spend so much of our time waiting and wanting and existing in the in-betweens of life that we forget all about the lives in full motion around us. In the moments we spend trying to get from Point A to Point B, we are surrounded by countless of stories waiting to be told, journeys waiting to be embarked on, and destinies waiting to be fulfilled. In these simple, quiet moments, someone's heart is breaking. Someone is losing a friend. Someone is losing his job, while another is getting a promotion at his. All of this lingers in the silence between us, but none of us bother to listen.

 

Within each person is a beautiful abyss of secrets, experiences, hopes, and dreams. Within each person is a past, a present, and a future. And though we may only be a part of that single moment in the present of that one person... Isn't that magic enough? To be able to celebrate the mere existence of life in the deafening silence we all dread and desperately try to fill with pointless, meaningless noise? 

 

It's sad to think that the only time we ever really appreciate the beauty of this silence is when it's all there is left to be heard, and we find ourselves wishing we had started listening sooner.

One Last Goodbye

A fleeting wave

To end the day

We can't escape

The mess we've made.

I want to try

Ask myself why

It's all a lie

We cannot hide.

I miss you now

But don't know how

A broken vow

Take one last bow.

Better to leave

Torn at the seams

A movie scene

Not made for keeps.

There's no more sorrow

Tears will not follow

A friendship borrowed

Until tomorrow.

It's time that we

Accept defeat

One day we'll meet

Again repeat. 

The Night of the Fluffy Rug

High school has always been, and always will be, to some degree, about finding the perfect niche. Tiring and most likely to leave you in shambles, the pressure of not having a group to call your own can be distressful, and lead you to believe that you simply do not belong. There truly is nothing like having a group you can fall back on, composed of people you trust, love, and feel comfortable with: a home base. No one's trying to be anything other than themselves, because no one's asking you to be. You are accepted for who you are, no matter how weird, outrageous, and flawed you may be. You simply are: vulnerable and unplugged, stripped down to the very core.

 

I'll be the first to admit that my priorities were in the wrong place over the past four years. I was always the girl with the broken heart. "By whom" was a question whose answer was ever changing. I was fooled into believing that that's where I would find my absolute happiness: in the arms of someone else...the boy of my dreams. But as the great Peyton Sawyer once said, "People always leave." Now, to some degree, there is validity to that statement. But what Ms. Sawyer failed to realize is that though person after person made their cameo appearance in her storybook of life, there were always a few constants who refused to walk away no matter how rough the times got, namely, Brooke Davis, and the ever so wonderful Lucas Scott.

 

As I delve deeper and deeper into the heart wrenching, emotionally traumatizing drama that is One Tree Hill, I can't help but envy the friendships that continue to deepen and thrive between the characters, all of which started in high school. Why don't I have that? I ask myself, as I wait for the next episode to play on Netflix on a Saturday night, alone in my dark room with only my laptop to keep my company, while the rest of the world is out with their friends, having fun. It's a question that has been gnawing at me throughout my senior year, and I can't seem to find the right answer. The best that I've come up with is this: I just didn't try hard enough.

 

Every time I had my heart broken by yet another boy who wasn't even worth my time in the first place, I retracted into a dark place where I bathed in my despair and solitude. Rather than trying to make the most out of life and reaching out to potential new friends, I wallowed in my self pity and fed off of the little sympathy others had to offer. I proudly wore my despondency like a badge to the point where there was probably a cloud of gloom hovering over my head, following me wherever I went. I analyzed every last detail of what went wrong with the guy of the hour, creating deluded theories in my head and living in the imaginary constructs of my mind, when I could've been enjoying myself with people who made me happy.

 

This, in all of its tortured truth, is why last night was a night I will remember for the rest of my life, despite its innocence and uneventfulness. In fact, it is because the night was so innocent and uneventful that it stands out, and will always be one of those dog-eared pages in my mental high school memory book. In the basement of a friend, I sat with some of the nicest people in my grade. Most of them are friends of mine with varying degrees of closeness, while they, in their entirety, form a close-knit group. Naturally, I felt a little out of place. They all had their inside jokes, adventures, and unique bonds that I could not adopt simply by being there. I had no idea if I was overstepping my boundaries, but I was grateful enough to be so unquestionably invited and welcomed into a home.

As the night went on, I grew more comfortable and realized that I was far from being an intruder. I guess the habit of automatically assuming that you are disliked just comes with going generally unknown at school, and being used to melting into the background. But last night, I sang, I danced, I laughed, and enjoyed the company that was able to provide me with such pure bliss. There were times where I wished to remove myself from the moment, just so I could capture the pure essence of its perfection without being a part of it.

The moment so particularly engraved into my mind came towards the end of the night. The lights were turned off for a collective nap and with the flick of a switch, bodies were entangled, breathing was synchronized, and a wave of peacefulness washed over the room. I chose to lay on the floor on the fluffy rug and watched as a sweet and innocent intimacy unfolded before me. With every shallow breath radiated a stroke of trust, a stroke of love, and a stroke of comfort. I smiled as the acoustic guitar continued to play in the background and thought to myself, So this is what it must feel like. To have a home base. To have a niche. To feel grounded. Accepted. Appreciated. Loved.

So it turns out that I've been looking for all of these things in the wrong places. Maybe it's too late; maybe I really did screw it up for myself. Rather than counting down the days until I can leave this one horse town and the people I have made loose camaraderie with, I will cherish the days I have left in the hopes of forming bonds that stand the test of time and distance. I can only wish to find what my peers have found as I embark on a journey and start a new chapter in my life, in the midst of all the parties (and overall impurity) that college has to offer, and feel the sense of belonging and contentment I have been craving for for as long as I can remember.