Lying is an art. Shades of red lick the walls of the room. It wasn't told how it should go down. It was just told to happen. Happen it did. There are little flecks of bone gritting beneath her shoes, but that's of no concern. Neither is the gray matter splashed on her face or the smell of feces and urine swirling her head, sliding into her nostrils. She enjoys the patterns created by the bright red slung all around.
Eyes are souls. They're staring. These eyes lied. Tangerines try to glow. Orange arranged with fleshy bits of torso like appetizers. Her handywork is to be admired. She wonders if others will feel the same when they see it. It's a little dull in here, lights blown.
Breathe in, look up. Eyes closed, eyes open. Ceiling is yellowed with cigarette tar. The stench of old ashes can't be overridden by death. This is amusing. And sad. She smiles. She tastes the blood of another at the corner of her mouth. Iron doesn't bother her. Salt makes her gag.
Death is an art. The green shag is now geographically browned. Idaho and Italy rise out. It's like cloud watching. Blue skies now green shag. Fluffy clouds are bloody pools. Oh! There's a bunny. It's all smiles. Here.
It's dark in here. Indigo children sing in her head. Sleep will come easy tonight. All the lies are ended. All the lives are ended. The lives that lied. We are not one. We were three. Yes, sleep will come easy tonight.
White clean now. Lavender fills the air as she slides between crisp white sheets. She can breathe now. Better than ever. Better than with him. Darkness overcome. Truth prevails. Darkness is here.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
300 Pounds - 10thDoM Neptune's Payback
Cosmic karma
Creating rain
Shifting effortlessly
But not in vain
Switching gears
Light years cease
Drifting back
Fiery breeze
Could you pass the situation, please? Slide yourself inside myself and leave nothing behind. Don't call or text or let me feel. That would be best even if it's not kind. You're not like the rest. I think I can; I think I can.
Walls collide
Breathing now
Ill kept thoughts
Take a bow
300 pounds
Awash at sea
Be around
You owe me
Creating rain
Shifting effortlessly
But not in vain
Switching gears
Light years cease
Drifting back
Fiery breeze
Could you pass the situation, please? Slide yourself inside myself and leave nothing behind. Don't call or text or let me feel. That would be best even if it's not kind. You're not like the rest. I think I can; I think I can.
Walls collide
Breathing now
Ill kept thoughts
Take a bow
300 pounds
Awash at sea
Be around
You owe me
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Five Minutes of Life - 10thDoM A Cat Can Look At A King
The wind easily whips her hair across her cheeks, stinging them so that her eyes water. This isn't a lullaby, she thinks, this isn't the way things are. Across the busy road, she spots a bench beneath a tree that looks oh-so-inviting. Making her way there is a careful process as cars and trucks rocket by her. She is terrified of being hit but starts a timid venture out into the sea of steel meteors whizzing by.
If she had an umbrella, it would be inside out by now. If she were wearing a skirt, it would be Marilyn Monroe'd by now. She loathes her long hair right now even though it's one of the few things about herself that she likes.
Twice, she is nearly hit. The timid, start/stop gait she has taken across the street has irritated many motorists and barely escaped causing a wreck. If she didn't know better, she'd swear that her heart would explode from the massive bass drum speed roll it's doing. The bench is nearly hers though, and she sighs and smiles at once as she balances on one foot, crossing the other over her knee to remove her shoe, then repeat to the other side with a bit of a wobble. It's OK. Today is a Monday. Balancing is always harder on Mondays, she remembers her yoga teacher saying.
The grass is cool beneath her feet, surely kept that way by the gusty winds, since the sun is doing his very best to smother the earth with his heat. The feeling reminds her of summer days back home, minus the wind. It never got this windy and this sunny at the same time back in small town, Alabama, or if it did, she can't recall.
A lump of something is on her destination bench, but she can't make it out just yet. She hopes it's not something gross and looks around for someplace else to go. There is another bench... Across the street she nearly just died crossing. It is not beneath a lovely tree though, nor is it sitting upon lush green grass. The bench across the terrifying sea of speeding steel is lonely, and she's tired of being in lonely places. She's tired of being lonely.
As she nears the bench, she can make out that the lump is furry and has a mini panic attack at the irrational thought that the creature inhabiting her bench is a rabid dog. She's terrified of dogs for no real reason she can recall. Once, or maybe more, she was attacked by her great granny's cataract-blinded demonic chihuahua, and for sure just once, she was attacked by a Great Dane. That's what she tells everyone, but if the truth were fully disclosed, she was afraid, or maybe just had a deep dislike, of dogs before any of those events ever occurred. At any rate, she dislikes dogs with a passion. Every time she reads one of those articles talking about how people who dislike dogs are not good people, she truly feels bad about herself.
Much to her relief, a lazy cat peeks his head up as she approaches. She's highly allergic to cats but loves them anyhow. As she gets closer, she notices that the cat is lying on a paper of some sort, and the cat, rather than closing its eyes and being aloof, seems to be staring at whatever is on the page, and she wonders what could be so interesting to a cat. For a moment, she watches the cat as its fur bristles in the wind.
She sits on the other side of the bench from the cat and pulls out her Nook, pressing the button on the top to make the scary forest screen saver disappear and the navigation panel light up. Surprisingly, the cat isn't skittish and doesn't move nor does it take it's eyes off of it's bed/very interesting paper.
After trying to read a book on her Nook and then playing a game of Sudoku but being completely distracted by the cat's uncanny interest in a paper and the whipping winds thrashing her hair about, she can't really concentrate on either. Finally, she carefully leans over to see what in the world could be so interesting to a cat. It's a magazine, she can see now, and it is open to a page about the deteriorating health of Rama IX.
She giggles out a little too loud, startling the cat enough that he takes his eyes off the Thai king's picture long enough to look at her with all the disdain a cat can muster. She smiles at the cat, satisfied to know what is so interesting, and as the cat returns its gaze to the king, her mind settles enough to let her enjoy a book on her Nook.
If she had an umbrella, it would be inside out by now. If she were wearing a skirt, it would be Marilyn Monroe'd by now. She loathes her long hair right now even though it's one of the few things about herself that she likes.
Twice, she is nearly hit. The timid, start/stop gait she has taken across the street has irritated many motorists and barely escaped causing a wreck. If she didn't know better, she'd swear that her heart would explode from the massive bass drum speed roll it's doing. The bench is nearly hers though, and she sighs and smiles at once as she balances on one foot, crossing the other over her knee to remove her shoe, then repeat to the other side with a bit of a wobble. It's OK. Today is a Monday. Balancing is always harder on Mondays, she remembers her yoga teacher saying.
The grass is cool beneath her feet, surely kept that way by the gusty winds, since the sun is doing his very best to smother the earth with his heat. The feeling reminds her of summer days back home, minus the wind. It never got this windy and this sunny at the same time back in small town, Alabama, or if it did, she can't recall.
A lump of something is on her destination bench, but she can't make it out just yet. She hopes it's not something gross and looks around for someplace else to go. There is another bench... Across the street she nearly just died crossing. It is not beneath a lovely tree though, nor is it sitting upon lush green grass. The bench across the terrifying sea of speeding steel is lonely, and she's tired of being in lonely places. She's tired of being lonely.
As she nears the bench, she can make out that the lump is furry and has a mini panic attack at the irrational thought that the creature inhabiting her bench is a rabid dog. She's terrified of dogs for no real reason she can recall. Once, or maybe more, she was attacked by her great granny's cataract-blinded demonic chihuahua, and for sure just once, she was attacked by a Great Dane. That's what she tells everyone, but if the truth were fully disclosed, she was afraid, or maybe just had a deep dislike, of dogs before any of those events ever occurred. At any rate, she dislikes dogs with a passion. Every time she reads one of those articles talking about how people who dislike dogs are not good people, she truly feels bad about herself.
Much to her relief, a lazy cat peeks his head up as she approaches. She's highly allergic to cats but loves them anyhow. As she gets closer, she notices that the cat is lying on a paper of some sort, and the cat, rather than closing its eyes and being aloof, seems to be staring at whatever is on the page, and she wonders what could be so interesting to a cat. For a moment, she watches the cat as its fur bristles in the wind.
She sits on the other side of the bench from the cat and pulls out her Nook, pressing the button on the top to make the scary forest screen saver disappear and the navigation panel light up. Surprisingly, the cat isn't skittish and doesn't move nor does it take it's eyes off of it's bed/very interesting paper.
After trying to read a book on her Nook and then playing a game of Sudoku but being completely distracted by the cat's uncanny interest in a paper and the whipping winds thrashing her hair about, she can't really concentrate on either. Finally, she carefully leans over to see what in the world could be so interesting to a cat. It's a magazine, she can see now, and it is open to a page about the deteriorating health of Rama IX.
She giggles out a little too loud, startling the cat enough that he takes his eyes off the Thai king's picture long enough to look at her with all the disdain a cat can muster. She smiles at the cat, satisfied to know what is so interesting, and as the cat returns its gaze to the king, her mind settles enough to let her enjoy a book on her Nook.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Red Light - 10thDom From Hell To Breakfast
I have internal dialogue externally. I'd like to think that I'm normal, but I'm aware that I'm not, that I don't work like most people, and that I don't understand how or why other people do the things they do. It's a constant dwindle into Hell, the older I get, the less I understand the games people play.
I saw you, and you weren't all that and a bag of chips, but you were ok. I'm pretty sure my favorite Asian would deem you frumpy and off limits, which you shouldn't be, soccer phenom and all. Yes, I Googled you. Pretty impressive. Now, I wonder if I hurt your knee or your ego. Oh, and I only came over to sell shirts. I came back over because y'all asked me to. You didn't make an impression until you weren't making an impression. And you're not the kind of guy to sleep with a girl on the first date, but you are the kind who's ego can't take it when she won't. What a loathesome ass.
Of course, it must be said... I wouldn't have been the least bit attracted to you if you didn't have some talent above and beyond, a fragile ego, and oh, yeah... Only assholes need apply.
Don't know yet if it was serendipitous to meet you during Lent. I wish I could have stayed and had breakfast. Instead, I'm going through my over-thinking Hell, wondering what goes through people's minds and wondering why I just can't fucking get it. It'll be awesome when our paths cross again because we know the same goddamn people.
This is my life: One day, I was sitting at a red light, just sitting at a fucking red light. This kid decides to turn left without yielding to the cement truck! Cement truck slams into kid, kid slams into me. Cement truck takes out a utility pole and nearly hits some gas tanks (wouldn't that have been pretty?) The entire highway is closed for over a mile, and power is out for a bunch of people and Wal-Mart for about 7 hours. I thought I was ok, but the next day my entire left side was achy and bruised. And all I was doing was sitting at a red light.
"Be shallow." That's the best damn advice I've gotten in a long time, but I think I wasted all my shallow back in high school. I'm not sure if I changed more because of the 9 years of constant belittling or the one year of pure torture before I could get away.
And then I try to "be shallow" and lose that within a week, convincing myself not to be that way toward someone treating me nicely. But they're only nice until they're not. And wow. Didn't see that one coming at all. Mommy issues, commitment issues, and a temper all come out at once, and it doesn't look well on you.
This entry won't win. Hell, it probably won't get a vote, and breakfast is a luxury I can't ever seem to enjoy. Oh, well. Just breathe.
I saw you, and you weren't all that and a bag of chips, but you were ok. I'm pretty sure my favorite Asian would deem you frumpy and off limits, which you shouldn't be, soccer phenom and all. Yes, I Googled you. Pretty impressive. Now, I wonder if I hurt your knee or your ego. Oh, and I only came over to sell shirts. I came back over because y'all asked me to. You didn't make an impression until you weren't making an impression. And you're not the kind of guy to sleep with a girl on the first date, but you are the kind who's ego can't take it when she won't. What a loathesome ass.
Of course, it must be said... I wouldn't have been the least bit attracted to you if you didn't have some talent above and beyond, a fragile ego, and oh, yeah... Only assholes need apply.
Don't know yet if it was serendipitous to meet you during Lent. I wish I could have stayed and had breakfast. Instead, I'm going through my over-thinking Hell, wondering what goes through people's minds and wondering why I just can't fucking get it. It'll be awesome when our paths cross again because we know the same goddamn people.
This is my life: One day, I was sitting at a red light, just sitting at a fucking red light. This kid decides to turn left without yielding to the cement truck! Cement truck slams into kid, kid slams into me. Cement truck takes out a utility pole and nearly hits some gas tanks (wouldn't that have been pretty?) The entire highway is closed for over a mile, and power is out for a bunch of people and Wal-Mart for about 7 hours. I thought I was ok, but the next day my entire left side was achy and bruised. And all I was doing was sitting at a red light.
"Be shallow." That's the best damn advice I've gotten in a long time, but I think I wasted all my shallow back in high school. I'm not sure if I changed more because of the 9 years of constant belittling or the one year of pure torture before I could get away.
And then I try to "be shallow" and lose that within a week, convincing myself not to be that way toward someone treating me nicely. But they're only nice until they're not. And wow. Didn't see that one coming at all. Mommy issues, commitment issues, and a temper all come out at once, and it doesn't look well on you.
This entry won't win. Hell, it probably won't get a vote, and breakfast is a luxury I can't ever seem to enjoy. Oh, well. Just breathe.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Missing - 10thDoM Give A Hand To The Future
I miss you like crazy and think of you far too often. Thoughts of you these days bring tears to my eyes. If you knew about this blog or the things I write, have written, will write about you, you'd be furious. I think, as an artist yourself, you should understand, but you've never created any art with feeling, so I suppose you are incapable in that aspect. I wish I'd known before that you couldn't process feelings as art therapy. I wish I'd known before than you couldn't process feelings.
All the things I thought of you that I knew would eventually turn me off from you are still there, but all the things I slowly came to enjoy about you push those things away. How is it so easy to throw away three months of good for a week of bad? How is it that you cared so little or knew so little - I'm unsure of which, maybe both - about me that you didn't understand how cruel your timing was? It's largely my fault, in many ways, how I didn't let you in. I wasn't honest. You didn't know that I fell asleep with my ex on the phone after I'd said my good nights to you because I hadn't, probably haven't, completely let go. I turned him down for you though. I didn't want to, but I thought you were worth it. I was wrong. It was a good choice, whether I like to admit it or not, but I didn't turn him down for me, which is what I should have done and where I should be. I turned him down for you. I turned him and him and him down for you, too. And I was happy that I had you to be able to turn them down for because I wouldn't have done it on my own.
I was happy with you. You brought music back to me, and I was living the life I felt I should have been living the past 10 years, the life I gave up for him. And I was happy. It was a fragile, tentative, fearful happy, but it was a happy nonetheless. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I was terrified, I told you from the start. I was so scared - scared of moving forward with you and scared of losing you, scared of letting you in and scared of keeping you too far away. I didn't find balance, and my fear is now reality.
I miss you every day. And for the relatively short time we were together, I got to be happy, and having that ripped away without even realizing that anything was wrong was debilitating. I never expected the sweet, kind guy I was falling for to become this cold, callous void in my life nearly overnight. You not only took yourself away and my happiness and relief at being in a nice, slow, kind relationship away, you took away the music, and that was devastating.
I know you're not the one, that you're not in my future. So much of me is fighting that and can't accept the man I thought could be so perfect for me, who would tell me when I crossed the line (I really was glad you did that), who would keep me at arms length for a while (I really did appreciate that), who had his own life and didn't want to take care of someone else (I really loved that), and who made me feel like I was worth something (I really can't tell you what that did for me or what having that go away did to me) is really gone. It's amazing how fast we went from lying in each other's arms on your couch to not even being able to speak to each other. It was all more than I could take.
I miss holding hands, good night, sweet dreams. I miss the idea that we could keep up this slow, kind pace and maybe one day find something more. I miss the music. I truly, truly miss you.
All the things I thought of you that I knew would eventually turn me off from you are still there, but all the things I slowly came to enjoy about you push those things away. How is it so easy to throw away three months of good for a week of bad? How is it that you cared so little or knew so little - I'm unsure of which, maybe both - about me that you didn't understand how cruel your timing was? It's largely my fault, in many ways, how I didn't let you in. I wasn't honest. You didn't know that I fell asleep with my ex on the phone after I'd said my good nights to you because I hadn't, probably haven't, completely let go. I turned him down for you though. I didn't want to, but I thought you were worth it. I was wrong. It was a good choice, whether I like to admit it or not, but I didn't turn him down for me, which is what I should have done and where I should be. I turned him down for you. I turned him and him and him down for you, too. And I was happy that I had you to be able to turn them down for because I wouldn't have done it on my own.
I was happy with you. You brought music back to me, and I was living the life I felt I should have been living the past 10 years, the life I gave up for him. And I was happy. It was a fragile, tentative, fearful happy, but it was a happy nonetheless. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I was terrified, I told you from the start. I was so scared - scared of moving forward with you and scared of losing you, scared of letting you in and scared of keeping you too far away. I didn't find balance, and my fear is now reality.
I miss you every day. And for the relatively short time we were together, I got to be happy, and having that ripped away without even realizing that anything was wrong was debilitating. I never expected the sweet, kind guy I was falling for to become this cold, callous void in my life nearly overnight. You not only took yourself away and my happiness and relief at being in a nice, slow, kind relationship away, you took away the music, and that was devastating.
I know you're not the one, that you're not in my future. So much of me is fighting that and can't accept the man I thought could be so perfect for me, who would tell me when I crossed the line (I really was glad you did that), who would keep me at arms length for a while (I really did appreciate that), who had his own life and didn't want to take care of someone else (I really loved that), and who made me feel like I was worth something (I really can't tell you what that did for me or what having that go away did to me) is really gone. It's amazing how fast we went from lying in each other's arms on your couch to not even being able to speak to each other. It was all more than I could take.
I miss holding hands, good night, sweet dreams. I miss the idea that we could keep up this slow, kind pace and maybe one day find something more. I miss the music. I truly, truly miss you.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Goodnight - 10thDoM RoM Percocet and Pudding
It was a beautiful night and everything was movie scene perfect - the serendipitous meeting, the soft glow of the street lamps, the clear and starry sky, the ambiance of the fountain diving for the sky and falling back around itself. And the kiss was lovely, soft and slow and with an odd familiarity like it had happened between them a million times before.
And it was the sad kiss of something that could never be. Elle's life, or at least her desire to keep going, had been dying for quite some time. She floated through relationship to relationship with no breath in between. Every time she thought the next one would be different, and every time, she found him to be exactly the same.
They were all serendipitous meetings, and the first kiss was always a scene from a movie. Elle was oddly comfortable with people she had no business developing such a deep level of comfort with so quickly. So, she had promised herself to stay single, to not give in to her usual impulses, to not look at every chance meeting and perfect kiss as fate. And this perfect kiss told her all she needed to know about John.
He gently released his grasp of her and smiled the smile of the conquerer. He knew that with that one kiss he had sealed the deal and that Elle was smitten with him. She returned a different kind of smile, one laced with sadness in her eyes, and she saw his eyes change at some sort of realization that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"It was wonderful running into you, John."
And before he could say anything, Elle turned, clutched her bag close to her chest, and ran as fast as she could to her car. Since she knew the area well, she took a couple of longer ways in hopes that John wouldn't be able to follow her easily. She hoped she hadn't mentioned what kind of car she drove, not that he'd be able to find it anyhow amongst all the others, she thought.
The drive home was a melancholy laced with an earnest sense of satisfaction. She didn't know his last name or his phone number, and Elle was pretty sure that stuff didn't come up in conversation. If it had, she must have been daydreaming her way through the banter.
Elle's apartment was small. She flipped on the TV and headed for the fridge. After contemplating a few different options - orange juice, ginger ale, Cherry Dr. Pepper - she decided to open the bottle of Chardonnay that had been chilling for at least a month now. She poured the golden liquid into an amber wine glass and took in the aroma. Wine always smelled so good.
From beside the fridge, Elle grabbed a prescription bottle. She didn't hurt anywhere, at least not physically, but she needed to feel numb for a while. After a few moments of contemplation, she decided 3 Percocets would do the trick and downed them quickly with a swig of Chardonnay before she could change her mind.
It wasn't the perfect end to a nearly perfect day, but it was probably the best ending to a movie scene day she'd ever had, she thought. She'd gone against her nature. It hurt terribly. She wanted to be in John's arms right now, blissfully unaware of what would inevitably become another emotional horror show. Elle smiled bitterly as she opened the fridge again, grabbed a cup of butterscotch pudding and decided it had been a good day to run.
I'll just be a minute
Close the door
It's all been a game to you
I don’t want you no more
You’re all play, no fair
Fireflies glow at night
It’ll just be a minute
Til I say goodnight
It's time for Percocet and pudding
And a little wine to pass the time
It’s time for Percocet and pudding
And a little wine to pass the time
Don’t wanna scream or shout
I’m laying it out
Cause you won’t never play fair
Don't wait for me here
I'm not coming home
Flypaper won't stick me here
I’m just too far gone
Sing your lulla-lies down the street
I'm floating on air
Don't wait for me here
I’ll lay your shit bare
Chorus
Leave me for now
Your honey don’t attract me
I know you’re sour inside
And you won’t let me be
I’m not your queen bee baby
I’m tired of being the fool
Leave me here for now
You never play by the rules
Chorus
And it was the sad kiss of something that could never be. Elle's life, or at least her desire to keep going, had been dying for quite some time. She floated through relationship to relationship with no breath in between. Every time she thought the next one would be different, and every time, she found him to be exactly the same.
They were all serendipitous meetings, and the first kiss was always a scene from a movie. Elle was oddly comfortable with people she had no business developing such a deep level of comfort with so quickly. So, she had promised herself to stay single, to not give in to her usual impulses, to not look at every chance meeting and perfect kiss as fate. And this perfect kiss told her all she needed to know about John.
He gently released his grasp of her and smiled the smile of the conquerer. He knew that with that one kiss he had sealed the deal and that Elle was smitten with him. She returned a different kind of smile, one laced with sadness in her eyes, and she saw his eyes change at some sort of realization that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"It was wonderful running into you, John."
And before he could say anything, Elle turned, clutched her bag close to her chest, and ran as fast as she could to her car. Since she knew the area well, she took a couple of longer ways in hopes that John wouldn't be able to follow her easily. She hoped she hadn't mentioned what kind of car she drove, not that he'd be able to find it anyhow amongst all the others, she thought.
The drive home was a melancholy laced with an earnest sense of satisfaction. She didn't know his last name or his phone number, and Elle was pretty sure that stuff didn't come up in conversation. If it had, she must have been daydreaming her way through the banter.
Elle's apartment was small. She flipped on the TV and headed for the fridge. After contemplating a few different options - orange juice, ginger ale, Cherry Dr. Pepper - she decided to open the bottle of Chardonnay that had been chilling for at least a month now. She poured the golden liquid into an amber wine glass and took in the aroma. Wine always smelled so good.
From beside the fridge, Elle grabbed a prescription bottle. She didn't hurt anywhere, at least not physically, but she needed to feel numb for a while. After a few moments of contemplation, she decided 3 Percocets would do the trick and downed them quickly with a swig of Chardonnay before she could change her mind.
It wasn't the perfect end to a nearly perfect day, but it was probably the best ending to a movie scene day she'd ever had, she thought. She'd gone against her nature. It hurt terribly. She wanted to be in John's arms right now, blissfully unaware of what would inevitably become another emotional horror show. Elle smiled bitterly as she opened the fridge again, grabbed a cup of butterscotch pudding and decided it had been a good day to run.
I'll just be a minute
Close the door
It's all been a game to you
I don’t want you no more
You’re all play, no fair
Fireflies glow at night
It’ll just be a minute
Til I say goodnight
It's time for Percocet and pudding
And a little wine to pass the time
It’s time for Percocet and pudding
And a little wine to pass the time
Don’t wanna scream or shout
I’m laying it out
Cause you won’t never play fair
Don't wait for me here
I'm not coming home
Flypaper won't stick me here
I’m just too far gone
Sing your lulla-lies down the street
I'm floating on air
Don't wait for me here
I’ll lay your shit bare
Chorus
Leave me for now
Your honey don’t attract me
I know you’re sour inside
And you won’t let me be
I’m not your queen bee baby
I’m tired of being the fool
Leave me here for now
You never play by the rules
Chorus
Careful Wishes - 10thDoM RoM You Gotta Be Careful What You Wish For Here
John stood up from the bench and walked toward the fountain as the haggard old man for whom Elle had created an imaginary lifetime began hobbling his way down the brick walkway and into the night. She followed John and as she watched the old man wander away, taking her created life with him.
"Do you make wishes?" John asked as he handed Elle a shiny copper penny. Elle took the warm piece of metal and closed her fingers around it, closed her eyes and made a wish.
"Not really," she lied for no reason at all as she rubbed the penny between her forefinger and thumb and then began switching fingers. She liked the way the penny felt in her hand. It was small yet strong.
Elle wished for many things. This one penny couldn't begin to hold them all, but she felt herself sending wish after wish with all the mental force she could muster down into the shiny copper circle. It was silly, she knew, but it made her feel good to pretend.
"Not on stars or coins or birthday candles?" he asked.
"Maybe... Maybe I wished for you."
"For me?"
"But I don't even know you so I don't know if you're what I wished for yet."
"Why would you wish for me?"
"I don't know that it's you I wished for. You could be what I wished not."
"Wished not?"
"Maybe running into you has made me miss my wish."
"So you do wish?"
"Not really."
John just smiled. She thought he had a beautiful smile. It quirked up to the left and there was a perfect little dimple there. His deep brown eyes sparkled under the starry skies and street lamps, and even though she didn't usually like brown eyes, preferring a grey-blue or hazel instead, she liked his. Or maybe she liked the way she felt while she was with him enough to overlook that small thing.
"What do you wish for, Johnny Boy?" Elle teased.
He raised his eyebrows to challenge her tease but smiled anyhow.
"World peace."
"That's ridiculous. I can't even find self peace."
"But that's what everyone's supposed to wish for, right?"
"I guess. It just seems a waste."
"But it's WORLD PEACE!" John's voice raised and his arms flew wide as he let out a big laugh and threw his arms around Elle.
Elle looked up at him. It was a moment. A moment that could change her whole plan. Maybe just for today, or maybe for a week, or maybe forever. That was too much to think about right now as her heart pounded and she half-heartedly attempted to pull away. He didn't let go. She pressed her lips together tightly, shied her eyes, and quirked up her own crooked smile.
"What would you wish for me?" John asked.
She didn't know how to answer or she didn't want to. It didn't matter. She knew what was going to happen, and it was what she wished for from the moment she first saw him even though she knew it was a dangerous path to follow.
Elle tilted her face toward John's, lifted a little onto her tip-toes, and kissed him.
Careful Wishes
Careful wishes
Don’t come around
Like August dreams at noon
They fall to the side
And can’t decide
If they’ll obey the moon
Speak your dreams
And never dare
To let love flail
Or fail to unpair
We cast our wishes
Across the pond
Into the wishing well
We wait for miracles
To be seen
Or hope to cast a spell
Speak your dreams
And never dare
To let love flail
Or fail to unpair
Oh, careful wishes
Fly high to the sky
At 2 o’clock in the afternoon
They light on clouds
And seek no grounds
But often fall too soon
"Do you make wishes?" John asked as he handed Elle a shiny copper penny. Elle took the warm piece of metal and closed her fingers around it, closed her eyes and made a wish.
"Not really," she lied for no reason at all as she rubbed the penny between her forefinger and thumb and then began switching fingers. She liked the way the penny felt in her hand. It was small yet strong.
Elle wished for many things. This one penny couldn't begin to hold them all, but she felt herself sending wish after wish with all the mental force she could muster down into the shiny copper circle. It was silly, she knew, but it made her feel good to pretend.
"Not on stars or coins or birthday candles?" he asked.
"Maybe... Maybe I wished for you."
"For me?"
"But I don't even know you so I don't know if you're what I wished for yet."
"Why would you wish for me?"
"I don't know that it's you I wished for. You could be what I wished not."
"Wished not?"
"Maybe running into you has made me miss my wish."
"So you do wish?"
"Not really."
John just smiled. She thought he had a beautiful smile. It quirked up to the left and there was a perfect little dimple there. His deep brown eyes sparkled under the starry skies and street lamps, and even though she didn't usually like brown eyes, preferring a grey-blue or hazel instead, she liked his. Or maybe she liked the way she felt while she was with him enough to overlook that small thing.
"What do you wish for, Johnny Boy?" Elle teased.
He raised his eyebrows to challenge her tease but smiled anyhow.
"World peace."
"That's ridiculous. I can't even find self peace."
"But that's what everyone's supposed to wish for, right?"
"I guess. It just seems a waste."
"But it's WORLD PEACE!" John's voice raised and his arms flew wide as he let out a big laugh and threw his arms around Elle.
Elle looked up at him. It was a moment. A moment that could change her whole plan. Maybe just for today, or maybe for a week, or maybe forever. That was too much to think about right now as her heart pounded and she half-heartedly attempted to pull away. He didn't let go. She pressed her lips together tightly, shied her eyes, and quirked up her own crooked smile.
"What would you wish for me?" John asked.
She didn't know how to answer or she didn't want to. It didn't matter. She knew what was going to happen, and it was what she wished for from the moment she first saw him even though she knew it was a dangerous path to follow.
Elle tilted her face toward John's, lifted a little onto her tip-toes, and kissed him.
Careful Wishes
Careful wishes
Don’t come around
Like August dreams at noon
They fall to the side
And can’t decide
If they’ll obey the moon
Speak your dreams
And never dare
To let love flail
Or fail to unpair
We cast our wishes
Across the pond
Into the wishing well
We wait for miracles
To be seen
Or hope to cast a spell
Speak your dreams
And never dare
To let love flail
Or fail to unpair
Oh, careful wishes
Fly high to the sky
At 2 o’clock in the afternoon
They light on clouds
And seek no grounds
But often fall too soon
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
