September 25, 2009

things i can see from my window:
-the Prudential building
-the bridge
-the Citgo sign
-the Charles river
-Memorial Drive
-the sun
-the sky

things i can’t see from my window:
-my love
-my family
-my best friends



September 24, 2009

it’s a beautiful day today;
i’m sitting in Killian Court, and the sun is peeking
between greyish clouds.
there’s a nice breeze, and the river glints
silver and gold to south.
the leaves are already changing;
across from me there’s a
maple (i think), gilded with copper and scarlet
doesn’t feel like fall –
doesn’t feel like anything, really.
just waiting, and waiting
i forget what i’m waiting for.
for lunch today, a PB&J
crunchy peanut butter, strawberry jam,
nutty wheaty bread.
it’s almost Friday (again, already)
i’m just repeating myself
i don’t mean to whine –
but i miss you, so terribly much.
21 days is, as always, 21 too many.

September 20, 2009

the leaves are changing already
my hair is long enough to
get in the way, now.
time is flying –
already it is afternoon, and the
yellow-tinged green maple
just outside is leaving dapples
on my pillow and windowsill.
in the dark of the night,
Micah whispered to me about
the early days of us –
the first time we met, first date
first kiss
the first time we made love
my  body is craving contact;
i want to feel a gentle hand on mine
a kiss on the forehead
a heartbeat beneath my cheek,
falling asleep with my head on his shoulder
it is indescribably difficult;
you would think, with time, one would
accept and adapt
but it is never really easier –
you just become numb faster.
i am surviving, as always
and when i am falling asleep
in the dark, alone
he’s there in my ear, telling me
how beautiful i am
and i think touching my heart
is more important than touching me.

September 15, 2009

sorry for my absenteeism;
my life lately:
saying goodbye (hate, oh i hate)
visiting friends, family,
favorite restaurants
flying back to Boston with
sick/excitement in my stomach
landing, and suddenly
excitement is winning
two days to move in (a new,
bigger room)
then Elodie (my friend from Paris)
arrived a day earlier than expected
we spent 3 days in NYC, and too much money
but had a wonderful time – worth it.
back to Boston, straight into school.
a thousand emails to send, a thousand
applications to submit, a thousand
things to print and sign and remember.
ahh, the joys of fall.
my new room has a river view;
in the morning the sun shines in around my shades
creeping into my eyes, heating the room
as the sun sets, the whole Boston skyline
lights up on fire, and then at night
the lights and the moon are bright
on the good old Charles river.
busy busy busy busy
i really should leave it at that for now
Elodie is asleep on my floor, and
i already have homework!

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

August 22, 2009

i ache, oh, every part of me aches
he just left my house
pressing sticky salty kisses to my lips
as moths batter themselves on the glass
of my front door and the streetlights
flash and flash and flash
what i would give (anything
almost anything) to have stopped time,
to have stopped the tears that
wouldn’t stop until there were no more
left to cry.  my head hurts
my nose is running.  i want to fall asleep
and wake up in a few years or so.

August 20, 2009

raining today;
the air is hot and muggy
and it feels like summer
except when the rain is falling
on my shoulders and hair –
then it feels like spring.
so much to do
so many forms to submit
i don’t want to touch them
just want to pretend like
time is stopped, i’m not going
Micah leaves tomorrow.

i was going to write more,
but i’m pretty sure that last sentence
encompasses everything.

August 13, 2009

there it is again;
i can feel it behind my eyelids,
in my throat and in my hands
convulsively closing on –
what?  air, the lining of my pocket
the arm of a chair or
Micah’s fingers, holding on –
to what?  summer time:
late nights and softly whirring fans,
walks on the pier, Alterra coffee
gentle kisses on my shoulder blade
falling asleep all tangled up
i’m still trying to hold on, even as
summer’s slipping away,
even as Micah finishes work
begins to pack
prepares to leave
there’s that prickling, again
my eyes trying to fill with tears
for what?  i’m not losing anything
am i?  he’s still mine, this city is still mine
i ache for my childhood, and certainty
the knowledge that there is no
greater concern than what flavor of
popsicle is available to me.
i want to roll myself up into a ball
and hide my head from growing up
from letting go
(again, and again, and again –
i’m always letting go, or trying to)
this deep melancholy encompasses
much more than the end of summer;
i know that
but i can’t help it, the breaking point
is knowing he’ll be gone in 8 days
i’m blinking, swallowing hard
because the only reason i’m sad
is that i’m so damn happy,
after all.

August 7, 2009

this afternoon, i sat on the
screen porch at Braeburn
watching the rain drip off the eaves
reading a good book
that reminded me of high school
Micah was reading beside me,
until head nodding, leaning on my shoulder
his hands giving those funny little
jumps, like always, he fell asleep.
i listened to the rain on the roof
remember being little, watching
waiting for the sun
so we could swim and play
and remember David, in out of the rain
dashing past him into the downpour
feeling it on my skin and face and hair
Micah slept, a reassuring warm weight.
yesterday we canoed the river
sunlight and clouds, the whole world
open above and the riverbed
in ripples below
and camped out on a sand bar
not far from home, built a fire
cooked our own dinner
and as the sun set, we lay together in
our tiny tent, reading together
and fell asleep side by side
we didn’t have to think about
school, or work, or our futures
we could just
stare into the fire, slapping mosquitos,
watching the river slip past
and when we were tired,
we turned off our lamps and went to sleep.
it was a beautiful week of vacation;
i’m sad it’s over –
especially when i remember that
2 weeks from now is the last time
i’ll see him until October;
8 weeks apart (we’ve done this,
we have, it’s not so hard, i know, i know)
already i feel the tears in me
the unfairness eats me up, and life isn’t fair
the world isn’t fair, and aren’t i a lucky girl?
this summer has been up and down
and gone by much too quickly
i don’t want to say goodbye again.

July 27, 2009

(here it is then:)
((i have a deep, dark confession))
it’s raining outside tonight
smells like summer time and
nostalgia, like cement and
sticking grass blades and
running barefoot and damp t-shirts.
(i’ve missed this)
((i miss having this with you))
(((i still miss you)))
i went for a walk by myself,
alone/but not alone
and remembering as always
blues skies on the ceiling of my bathroom
floating, walking, running
cigarette smoke swirling and twirling
dragon’s breath.
razor blades and nicks on my knee
i want to walk all night
tonight like it will never end
circles in this old town of mine,
with my head in clouds
of memories and misty street lights
the rain falling on my skin
seemed warm until it touched me;
it raised goosebumps where it fell,
pale and shivering
and walking alone
i never knew i could feel so old
and so naive at once.
(and here’s my secret:)
((i don’t love you anymore))
(((but i miss walking with you)))
((((and sometimes))))
(((((i still walk the streets)))))
((((((hoping to run into you))))))