slightly nostalgic

December 17, 2006

i keep
digging
through my archives,
but i’m having trouble finding poems
i still believe in.

my desk is very messy
because my colored pencils are everywhere
and in the corner i have two acceptance letters
i guess i really am going to college.
i started to cut up words yesterday
“hello” and
“i am”
and held them over my eyes
and looked
through a different lense

i have a stack of notebooks that is
9 deep
since 2002
some of them are almost empty
and 
some of them are almost full
and i can’t quite remember anything that happened before 
sophmore year,
because 
i don’t want to.

i used to write about magic
and trees that you couldn’t see the tops of, and
sleeping for a long time.

there are drafts of letters i wrote to David
isn’t it funny, how 
i cared so much
?
and now when i think of him, 
i can’t imagine
his face
i still remember his eyes, but only because
they were so green.
and after all, no one forgets their
first kiss.

he stopped me when
i moved to stand, and put his head
close to mine
i fit against the hollow of his side
and he tightened his arm 
around me
and our faces, we were
so close to each other
how did it end
like that?
i
still feel him
sometimes.

James and i
skipped
stones
on a beach scattered with
fish skeletons
and shells
and he asked me
what attracted you to that boy in the first place?
and
i didn’t know.

i wrote a letter to Erin the
night that it happened
when
i lost control
and
i
couldn’t
laugh
anymore.
WHY DOES THIS HURT
i asked her
because
you can’t be hurt unless you allow it
can you.

isn’t honesty
hard
?

i wanted
to break
my hands, maybe
or a picture frame
filled with us
a window
or
my promise

i am still
here
howcanhedothistome?
idon’tknow

but it’s done.

it doesn’t make me cry anymore
even when
i want to tell him
because
you can’t be hurt unless you allow it
and i don’t.

i still gave him the poem
even after
because
i wrote it for him,
after all.

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