a poem I wrote in church this morning

From Pompeii to Hawaii

My heart is a dead thing
or a lost thing
or a buried thing.
When I open the doors of my chest
nothing but trash and dark mold tumble out.
It is ash and sulfur in me.
Which I suppose is a life of sorts,
volcanic life;
the sort that fissures out in heat and effervescence,
dying the rivers of my living a bright, cool-aid blue.
All because I have heard your voice
calling
--begging--
for me to return
(sort of).
So here's the thing I tell myself:
volcanic soil is the richest on earth.
yes, the initial years are barrent and stark
they stumble forward full of striated, homogenous nothing
on a geological timetable no less
but eventually (eventually)... you look like Hawaii.
I have faith that even though I mourn today
(and I mourned yesterday)
(and I will mourn tomorrow)
that I am wildly alive.
that my heart is strong in spite of its awkward beat.
Even though I am buried under acres of betrayal and sadness
I
am
wildly
alive.
And eventually the mold and the ash
will allow me to emerge
verdant and fecund.
that my smile will reach all the way to my eyes and warm the world around me
once again.
I have this faith -- this picture of who I will be.
it keeps me warm here
in the dark.

ghosts of boyfriends past

got this from Rob last night...

This will be a little disjointed. As i am starting this new year, I have been looking at the past one. There are somethings I would like forget. And some things if I don't adress, I will be doomed to repeat and I really do want to grow. So I am saying some of these things not to have you respond to them. I am simply saying them because they need to be said.

I am sorry I did not honor you or respect you in our relationship as you deserved. You surround yourself with people who are constantly open and greatful for the love that pours forth from you. I was blind to that and did not give you even a small part of what you so willingly gave and longed to have reciprocated. I'm sorry.

It brings me joy to know you are surrounded by happy loving people. I could go on but really just wanted to say that.

Thank you for all the love you gave.

And then I cried for awhile.

It always feels like a thunderstorm inside me to think about Rob. I miss him, I think about something I wish I could tell him or ask him to explain to me (or simply that I wish I could feel his calloused hand in mine) and my heart yearns for him. And then the other half of me starts screaming at me about all the horrific things he's done and how I could never trust him etc etc. And these two fronts create competing barometric pressures inside of me and I explode.

So it's just easier not to think about him.

but then he writes me and I remember that I will probably be in love with him for the rest of my life. Which is stupid, but so are republicans and they're just something I have to live with.

Still, can't stop thinking about this picture. One of my favorites of all time. We were just lying in bed talking and I held up my phone to take a picture of us, then at the last second he turned my face to him to kiss me and that was when the picture clicked...

for Valentine's Day

So some of you know this already, but I have this supersonic, out-of-control crush on my boss. Beyond steroetypical, I am verging on the cliche with this one (butterflies in the stomach, pit of fire where my heart used to be, wobbly thighs). Anyway, I wrote this poem about it and thought it might make a nice valentine's entry.

(ps. I just had the GREATEST time tango dancing!!! I love it!)

Cliche

I hate to admit it

but his eyes

--illumined and smiling--

looking at me like there is no one else in the room,

--inside a mile!--

shiver over me

like the morning after a snowfall

when the sun has returned

and the sky is a brilliant, calm blue

and a breeze puffs a handful of snow

from a tree branch.

That

shimmer

of cold, sparkling dust

is what I feel on my neck and shoulders,

down my arms and back

and all because he has smiled

the crooked, warm smile.

All because his eyes burn and reach for me

without ever thinking I'll reach back.

So we sit on our hands

and say nothing

--our mouths full of ashes.

And we wait for the situation to change.

Which is more important: love

or paying rent?

I know we all want to say 'love'

but it's hard on the 14th of the month to still not have rent.

I'm just sayin.

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggnnnnhhh

I have been training at Jaleo for a week now and eating their food.

it is really tasty and really not vegan and I feel awful.

I can't wait to just eat what I want to eat and I hope I haven't irreprably pushed myself in the wrong direction.

Here's something odd: ever since I started eating regular food again I find myself missing Rob.

a lot.

I wonder if all this sugar and dairy and meat and alcohol is a depressant.

ugh.

going to sleep.

setting the alarm early so I can run before work (yesterday I went running after work when it was dark and snowing outside).

so yeah, I am eager for this training to be over; to not be completely broke; to go back to feeling healthy and slim; for warm weather; oh and it would be lovely to fall in love with a decent person and to get a job in my feild.

that is all for tonight.