I wish I had gotten to know you, because you seem like an amazing person.
I think about what it would be like to have our foreheads touch,
or to be the first person to see your art.
But then I realize as much as I'd like to think otherwise, it's better suited this way,
because once we meet out there in real life,
I'd probably realize that you watch too much hockey,
are the kind of person who would compliment a female on her tan,
and have a problem with cigarettes;
I'd hate you.
I am in love with you.
To whoever is reading this, you can have some too.
You are so nervous
and
you are so unsure.
You've got everyone fooled and no one's really seeing.
Keep
pulling your sleeves over your hands;
Keep
your eyes averted;
Keep
your knees together.
Stay
in your comfort zone;
Stay
where I wouldn't want to reach you anyway.
I missed you today.
I miss so many things.
Do you miss them too?
Hi Rebecca Wong,
You're dating a dirtbag.
What I said was
I'll miss you
what I meant to say was
I love you
what I wanted to say was
that I meant what I said
and it's funny
how all those things I
could hav said
flooded my head after we said goodbye
and I should have told you
I'd be willing to hold you
until my flesh crumbles into bone
I'd be willing to die alone
but god knows I don't want to live that way
because some say that the highway
becomes a flat line
if you travel it or too long
and I can't tell if they're wrong
I've seen the strong
fall to their knees and beg please
for some strength because the length of one bad day
had them ready to throw their arms up at life and say
I quit
I mean I have seen some shit
seen the sun bake the gravel used
on interstates and intersections
into fun house mirrors
that cast reflections
of my three years on the road
when I slowed to get directions
just looking for someone to hold
there were all happy
to point away from themselves
and say "maybe down the road somewhere"
who knew that they were right
that my flag is a traffic light
at night it glows
red amber and green
and I've seen them everywhere
so I guess in that sense
the road really is my home
but I've got poem after poem
of what it's like to miss
a home cooked meal
of what it's like to wake up and feel
my arm draped over your absence
how I miss breathing in your skin
like incense
I bet you never knew
that when I'm sleeping beside you
I wake up just to make sure I'm holding
you
feel like a mountain
that doesn't know it's being climbed
as your breath is timed with the in and out of mine
like it was the centreline of a highway
with no stop sign
I hit the intersection
where your shoulders meet you neck
passing the car wrecks of ex-boyfriends
who parallel parked on the dead ends
and I just hope your skin
lends me an extra mile
so I can slow down
take awhile to admire the landscape
drape my arm over your being there this time
when it comes to your skin
I'm a drunk driver trying to walk a straight line
I've been pulled over so much
that your simple touch is enough to make me
assume the position
wishing I could stay there
where your hand searches my body for the contraband
that could land me in the jail of your ribcage
because road rage is a sickness
and my medicine is your skin
so I'm constantly getting myself into trouble
double parking beside you
merging with the changing lanes of each others veins
all highways leading back to one heart
because I end where you start
I could spend the rest of my life
circling the same block
wondering
where does the world hide its private stock of people like you
and why do I get to be the lucky one
who learns how to do back to u-turns
and some days collapse on me
like the night
I can tell I haven't slept
when the light peeks through the blinds
and finds me
with my eyes wide open
hoping I can take all these poems
I printed on post-it notes
fold them into tiny boats and launch them
towards the shores of your skin
where they begin to colonize
take up roots in your eyes
weigh anchor in the harbour of your thighs
until all the tiny hairs on your body
begin to rise
like a million flags brought to mast
at long last
I know I no
longer have to roam
and I finally understand those sailors
who plant their lips to the ground
I do the same to your body
it's because you taste like home
and
what I said was
I'll miss you
what I meant to say was
I love you
what I wanted to say was
that I meant what I said
I miss you like I miss my own bed
after too many nights of sleeping on couches
and hard wood floors
or sitting silently behind the doors of hotel rooms
that became wombs
breathing a life into this loneliness
I miss you like a burn victim
must miss their own skin
I miss you like a sad ending
must miss some place new to begin
because some say that the highway
becomes a flat line
if you travel it for too long
I can't tell if that's true or false
but I'm racing down it towards you
trying to find my pulse.
I hate her with so much irrational intensity it gets me rowdy.
I want to hear the first crack of her skull when its being crushed excruciatingly slowly between the LA police department's Jaws of Life.
Not that you'd get the irony, stupid girl.
HIGH SCHOOL HIGH SCHOOL HIGH SCHOOL WE'RE NO LONGER IN HIGH SCHOOL! Love you lots! WINK.
I miss him like I would miss an essential organ.
Forgetting him will break my heart.
I don't believe that some people have the capacity to be ironic.
The dance sequence leaves no room for doubt.
This is what we call De-evolution.
Life is so great;
I love my family and I heart my friends because they are always there for me no matter what!
School is great and work is better because there's nothing like making money!
Life is so wonderful right now I could just explode from all the happiness!
I couldn't be more overjoyed!
