incompatible

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they’ve got nothing in common except the straw
and maybe the way their insides look
but still they make a cute pair
as they sit side by side
in front of a fire
that hasn’t burned in a while
and his face is the color
of her dress
as if she colored him that way
he’s tattered and torn
she’ll offer to mend him
and sweep his floors
hoping he’ll remember
she is his home

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R1, R2, and C

soul mates. what a heavy phrase. i know that i have met three of my soul mates. i do not know how many soul mates there are for my soul. i do know that i miss all three of my known soul mates fiercely.

the first soul mate i met was a girl in high school. we had anatomy class together. she was a vegetarian. except for bacon. since high school we have lost contact and reconnected several times. i always miss her, yet i have the hardest time tracking her down. instead she finds me. it’s been a while since we’ve talked. she has a son just five days older than my J. whenever she resurfaces, we’ll catch up on the time we’ve lost and maybe this time we won’t lose touch. we fall in love with souls, not genitals. i love this woman and i could see us living together and raising our sons together, and when the boys grow up and go to college, we’ll get kittens and we’ll grow into old cat ladies.

the second soul mate i met was R. if you’re an avid reader of this little blog, you know a bit about him. i was able to look at is eyes last week, they are exactly as i remembered them. we talked for something like an hour, we had things to talk about, but neither of us could stay on topic so the conversation drifted all over, it was beautiful. it is those conversations, however rare they are, that remind me that R is a mate to my soul. he is intertwined in me. if ever i tried to remove him from my being it would cause me sure and sudden death i am certain.

the third soul mate i met was C. what can i say about C? he caught me so off guard, i didn’t have time to post the “F*** Off” sign back up on my forehead. he was under my skin the first time we talked, even though it was months before we talked again and i’m sure he didn’t even remember the first time, it was kind of inconsequential. the second time we talked, the first by his count, apparently he had to work up the courage to talk to me. he had noticed me for days, weeks perhaps, and though i looked like someone he’d like to talk to. he was shyer than i realized and quiet in general, although he never ran out of things to say when i was around.

Our First Day (Everyday Inspiration, Day 14)

I don’t remember the day,
only the night.
And even that isn’t clear,
just bits and pieces.

It was August twenty seventh,
two thousand eight.
My roommate was on the phone,
yours was sleeping with lights off.

You were barefoot,
wearing t-shirt and jeans
and fixing your guitar,
red electric, I think.

I had on cheap blue flip-flops
and Hello Kitty pajamas.
Was reading Catch-22
and talking of prostitution and warm bodies.

It was a Wednesday
and tomorrow my mom’s birthday.
There was Kyle
and he was reading Twilight.

I was eighteen,
you were sixteen.
I didn’t believe you,
think I asked to see your ID.

I had trouble pronouncing
your last name,
think you said most people do.
I told you about all my double letters.

There was Good Day Sunshine
and I thought you wrote it.
You looked at me funny,
you thought I was joking.

Kyle went to bed;
You and I stayed up.
It was my idea to go to the pool.
You thought to bring a towel, I didn’t.

I don’t remember everything,
like if we talked about stuff that mattered
or just stuff that didn’t.
Just remember the world spun.

still waiting

Normally I wouldn’t share something from my Facebook account, but one that just popped on the “On This Day” app is feeling very relevant today. Two years ago this is what I posted on Facebook:

“I believe in true love. Sometimes it’s small and gentle, other times it’s gigantic and intense, at times it gets misplaced and you’re scared it’s gone, but maybe it’s really always there and you can never shake the feeling you have for that person; true love never fails, it waits, it weathers every storm. I will wait, call me an idiot, but I’ll wait.”

This is about R, of course. He picked the boys up today because I had a family thing. He wasn’t in a rush and was totally cool with the fact that the kids were soaking wet and dirty. He shook my brother’s hand, said hey to my nephew, asked about my other brother’s truck, talked about having leftover Christmas candy. We made “small talk” for longer than we usually do. We asked a little about each other’s families and talked about upcoming events. Today was an easy interaction with R, ridiculously easy, to the point where I do not know why we’re not together. Oh wait, yes I do know: he has a girlfriend/fiance. I truly believe that if he was not with her, he and I would have a real chance at being a couple again. Regardless of the crushes I’ve had and regardless of what happened with C, I still love R and I fall in love with R basically ever time I see him and sometimes a text is enough to hook me back in. R is my true love and I’ll hold out for him for the rest of my life.

Rupert, because we both like gingers.

I thought we would
have a thousand more
conversations in your garage
or under blankets
in your living room,
not watching Harry Potter.

Hundreds of trips
in your friends’ cars.
And we’d go to the movies
but view separate titles.
I’d say I don’t like my hair sometimes,
you’d say it’s beautiful always.

So many words
we’ll never say now.
I think we were both
set on destroying
any chance of us
before we even started us.

Borrowing a line from H:
One store towns
make me feel
a certain kind of way.
Will I be able to breath
next time I see you in aisle 9B?

C, if ever you read this,
know there was is gravity
between us.
Heart gravity and soul gravity.
The world will keep us apart,
unless our hearts conquer the world.

i wanted to hug you

yesterday i asked
“did i do something wrong?”
late last night you answered
“you did nothing wrong
i’m just going through it
i just need some time to myself”

you let me know you’re guarded
but you’re not totally closed
and then it hit me
you don’t want me
to be your rebound

i went to the market
to buy noodles for dinner
i ran into you
almost literally
you looked sadder than i’ve seen

you asked how i was
i told you i was great
and asked how you were
you said you were okay
“but you know”
i know

we talked
just for a minute
and as i walked away
i threw the ball in your court
“just let me know
when you’re okay
for me to be around”

i won’t close my heart
your soul is too great
your eyes too beautiful
to deny myself the chance
of you as a best friend

and so
here i stand
open

*In response to Open.

Once or Twice

If everything could just go right
for an hour or two,
it would be Friday night
and you’d say hi instead of hey.
You’d show up early
and say we need to talk.
It’d be just warm enough
to walk a few blocks.
You wouldn’t apologize,
wouldn’t say leaving was a mistake.
You’d boldly tell me you have no regrets,
but still you miss me.
I’d tell you I love you
as our hands collide.
Accidentally on purpose.
You’d lace your fingers into mine,
close the distance between us
before I can breathe twice.
But you wouldn’t kiss my lips,
you’d trace them with your thumb.
“I love you” you’d say.
We’d stand like this
while the world continues on without us.
We’d both forget to blink
as everything we’ve never said
passes between us in the silence.
Our souls would admit
what our minds too often denied.
And if nothing made sense after that,
I’d still walk away happy.

Our Song On Repeat

I love you.
How incredibly selfish,
to say those three words.
I’d be setting you up
to break my heart.

I don’t even know
who this poem is about.
I could see myself
falling asleep in his arms,
but yours are still
the safest I’ve ever known.

Why am I still waiting
for you to notice me?
His soul might match mine
as well as yours ever did.
What if I let him in,
only to wake up to you knocking?

Want me, before my heart
convinces me it’s okay.
Okay to love someone new
and okay to give up on you.
Some puzzle pieces remain lost,
while others are found.

Art School Drop-Outs

Sometimes things change colors when they get old.
What if our souls change colors as we grow?
Born pale and almost translucent.
Hues that become more vibrant,
with each ounce of love we feel.
Darkening slightly,
with each new sorrow.

We all search for a balance of these shades.
Not too much light,
or else we haven’t felt enough.
Not too much dark,
or else we haven’t known beauty.
Not too bright
and not too dim.

What about my soul?
I hope it’s varied in colors.
Rich purple – like royalty and regalty.
Deep red – like blood and passionate kisses.
Good Day Sunshine yellow.
The palest of pinks because I’ve so much left.
Blue like a country sky
and blue like a city sky too.
Green of pine trees and of seaweed.

And a million others,
but these colors
do not exist separately.
They all blend together,
like the rays of light
that we can’t even see with these human eyes.
Every single color, you and I.

Hey Jude and a Tattoo

We used to walk on eggshells around each other,
but I think we’re learning that our footsteps can be a little heavier.
If it’s trust we’re building
with the bricks from your wall,
then we’ll turn my paper one
into a kite, like sparrows’ wings.
We’ll fly it on the beach someday
and our souls can make love in the ocean.
Remember the sand
that got everywhere we didn’t want it to go?
On days when it’s easy,
I forget why it was ever difficult.
Tell me a story
and I’ll sing you a song.
It’s been too long since we left our hearts open.
Say the word and I’m yours.