My favorite word in the world is snazzy because I believe it sums up a specific emotion quite well. You know that feeling where you just smile and have this overwhelming sense of pride and happiness? That is because something or yourself is snazzy. Everything I post on here is something I believe to be snazzy. This can range from writings of mine, photos, quotes from my friends, or links. So go ahead, read, enjoy, and be snazzy.
We were sitting on your great grandfathers patio counting how many humming birds were at the bird feeders. Your whole family was talking at once, asking me varying questions. There were the polite, mundane questions: Where are you from? Who are your parents? How long have you been together? Then one of your cousins asked what every romantic wants to know—how did we meet? You explain that you were running late for work and ran out of the house without having a cup of coffee. By your lunch break, you were exhausted and needed to fuel your addiction to the bitter drink.
"I had just sat down when the small bell above the door rang, announcing someones arrival. I looked up and saw small shoes colored a striking blue step across the barrier, one after another, making a staccato note with each dainty fall against the stone flooring. That’s when I knew that I wanted to know you."
Your family smiled for us and you kissed the top of my head. Then you said as an after thought “If I weren’t addicted to coffee we never would have met.”
It was then that I wondered for the first time how many times we never met.
How often were we on the same subway, both sitting next to a stranger who would never be anything more than a stranger? Perhaps we passed each other on a weekly basis; just two people sharing the side walk. Do you remember when we found out that your mother and my grandfather were buried in the same cemetery, twelve bouquets of flowers apart? You visited her every Sunday before church. I visited him every Sunday after church. I wonder how many times we stood in the used bookstore on the corner of Pine, flipping through a book we knew we weren’t going to buy.
You said if it weren’t for coffee, we never would have met.
I’m not sure if I believe that though. I believe that soul mates are always crossing paths, because if two people are meant to know each other, they will find a way to meet. The period of your life that you meet them decides what they will be to you: a lover, friend or mentor. Maybe we only meet them when we are meant to. Maybe I could have been introduced to you a dozen times last Winter and we would have still parted as strangers, struggling to remember the others full name.
Perhaps we find our soul mates when we are able to fully appreciate their presence. Or maybe I’m wrong, and if it weren’t for the fact you wanted coffee we never would have met. Maybe my face would never have caught your eye. Maybe you would always been on the 7:30 bus, while I waited faithful for the 7:45. Maybe we would have never crossed paths.
I don’t believe that though.
I believe we have met over and over again, waiting for the day when we would meet and it would matter.
The world passes by in a blur of colors.
Headlights acting as lighthouses,
Streetlights acting as nightlights.
Moonlight setting a glow to the pavement
That makes the broken glass shimmer.
Fragments of metal splayed across the four lane
Like trinkets dropped by toddlers.
Cars tip toeing around the mess.
Screams echo over
a symphony of radios.
Oil and blood paint the concrete
Creating hidden messages
that will be washed away
We stood by the ocean. He held my hand as though it were an after thought, like a pair of keys he forgot he was holding. The wind blew my dress up to my thighs, but I was too young to know about modesty. We watched the waves rush to meet the shoreline; my breathing was in sync with the oceans.
“Do you know what insanity is?” He asked.
“I think so.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Doing something over and over and over again.” I answered
I watched as the ocean kissed the shore and wondered why the beach never kissed back.
“Are you insane?” I asked.
“I’ll let you know.”
Fireflies are forgotten
When morning comes,
Melodies are reduced
To careless hums.
Is nothing like that.
Sometimes the doors
Don’t open any more.
But you still can’t escape.
Is nothing like that.
Dew loves fiercely,
The nights warm air,
Blossoms in winter,
Are lovely and rare.
From the mornings’ ashes
And rests over salted stares.
Fingers tangle in woven grasses
Kisses freeze in midnight air—
Loving you is that and more,
These scars are from the night
I ripped out the stitches
That he sewed into my smile.
There from those moments
When your laughter
Made me grin so much
Happiness could rest on my cheeks.
A hopeless romantic who thinks love’s key;
He claims he just wants people to be happy.
Cupid is the excuse that people use
For putting up with neglect and abuse.
An irresponsible adolescent
Who believes all love should be incessant—
Cupid is a reckless alcoholic
Who doesn’t know when to stop taking shots
It’s time to put down the arrows, kid.
And let impossible loves be lost.
I will write you into my heart.
Graffiti your name on the walls
As a reminder
That anything can be art.
If I made my soul a tangible thing,
Maybe you would capture it in a jar
Just so you could watch it flutter its wings,
Against glass bars.
We hold the preciousness of the moment
In this empty parking lot of good-byes.
Between us are various components
That won’t let us admit what we’ve denied.
Even though we’re leaving for the last time,
I know our hearts will always be calling—
And until I run out of thoughts or rhyme,
I will write things to keep me from falling.
Sometimes I tell myself it wasn’t real;
But we both know I’m not someone to trust
There are times when I lie awake and feel
The physical space that was between us—
I suppose this will always be my curse;
I’ll love you as long as you say it first.
You were the brightest part of my day. Whenever you peeked down at me from behind clouded eyes my frozen soul would melt instantly. Your warm embrace would engulf me. Ever since I could remember, you were the only one who looked beneath the surface and accepted all of me without regrets. Being with you made me believe in forever. I wish I could have frozen time, so that these moments together never would have had to end.
You couldn’t stay though, because other people needed you. I wasn’t selfish enough to make you stay. That’s why whenever you were around I would cry salty tears, enough to fill an endless sea. I knew you would leave soon and I would be alone until the next morn. We both knew if you were to stay with me all the time, you would wear me down. I didn’t want to be your burden. Winter was the loneliest time for me; you came as suddenly as you left.
It was another bitter night, and I was looking to the horizon in hopes of seeing the outstretched arms of my love. Instead I saw the silhouette of a ship in the distance. I hated ships; they always avoided me. I kept my eyes on the ship and noticed that it wasn’t changing its course. It was heading right towards me. In desperation, I tried to think light—I thought about what you would do at this instance and realized you would welcome it with your shine…I let your sister wrap me up in her moonbeams, and for a few minutes I swear I sparkled.
When the ship hit me I felt myself shatter. Pieces of me plummeted into the water with such an urgency I couldn’t control it. People tried to grasp at my broken parts in an attempt to stay afloat, but like so many before them they let go because my cool disposition was too much for them. I wished I could have told them that frostbites not contagious, and that when two frozen objects.. thaw and freeze together they become stuck to each other, and I can’t think of anything more poetic. I would have said all of these things if my lips weren’t so heavy and if my tongue wasn’t stuck to the roof of my mouth in an attempt to rid myself of a two hundred year old brain freeze. I watched as a young couple fought fiercely over who would float on a broken door—The girl won when she pushed the young man off the raft.
Pieces of me drifted farther and farther. I feared that you would never find me…and I was cold, even for me. I braced myself for the loneliness. I knew that my crystal smile would never again be illuminated by your rays. I decided then that the price of loving is remembering. I promised myself that I would never let my memories of you fade into the background.
Just when I was about to let my thawed heart freeze, I felt the familiar tingle wash over me and looked towards the oceans edge. The sight of you rising against a bruised sky was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
It has taken a hold of you. It is as if chains are scratching and holding your heart with force behind an invisible wall of stone and you cannot seem to break it. You feel the way a wave of blood rushing to your forceful heart, gasping and begging for oxygen but it cannot get released from the chamber. It is locked.
You can’t breathe.
It will not let you and you do not understand why. Why does it hurt so much all of the sudden? Why does it feel as if someone has poked you really hard in the stomach with a real hard and thick tree stick? Gosh, why? Why does it hurt so much? Your mind has stopped working with the lack of blood and oxygen. Where did it all go? What is going on? What are you doing? You cannot think. You cannot feel. You do not know.
For God’s sake, you can’t breathe.
The taste of nothing has coated your tongue. You feel as though you might vomit because of the sheer taste of emptiness but…but there is nothing to throw up at all. There is nothing there, yet you close your eyes on instinct and try to prevent yourself from being sick. It is all empty. It is all lost. And you’re dizzy.
You feel offended. How can something so pure and so lovely turn so painfully and so vulnerable? You feel offended because your own heart has betrayed you. It is trying to kill you with the pain of love. You have betrayed yourself. It hurts so much.
The truth is pure torture. Torture that will not end. It is squeezing your insides as if you were stuck under blocks of big rocks. It is making your stomach sick because of all the dead and rotten butterflies. It is making your cells turn against you instead of for you. This is not healthy. This is not good. This is pure torture.
You can’t breathe.
You are suddenly realizing what is making you like this. You do not get it though. You keep ask yourself. Why, why, why? Why goddammit why? You just stand there, looking as if a bolt of lighting has hit you. You feel as if a bolt of lighting has hit you. Hard. It has hit you hard. Straight on the face, like a slap.
You breathe out.
"Sorry…..I think I’m in the wrong bathroom."