Clean-Up on Aisle 3

You're the only person that can make my insides smile. Tingle and knot. Turn me into a giggling 5 year old again. Only you have the power to force my hand to turn this raw emotion into polished stanzas. Make me brave enough to give the world a backstage pass into my thoughts.

I used to laugh at those girls. You know. The one's that seem to move their fingers at lightning speed across their keyboards. Ending yet another text message with a cutesy emoticons. Trying desperately to gain approval of the opposite sex(or maybe the same). Now I'm the one frantically scribbling Mr. and Mrs. in my notebooks.

Pages devoted to your smile. Chapters to your eyes. Those glowing windows that seem to light up even when no one's home. Too busy daydreaming about life, and things too deep for me to even attempt to comprehend. Caught up in just appreciating life and the world. I can always tell with you because whenever we rejoice in the pleasure of just being alive your eyes sparkle like bulbs on a Christmas tree.

I squirm in my seat just waiting for the bell to ring so I can cheerfully say hello and see that big grin spread across your face like an infection. I swear you could start a pandemic with it. It's a struggle for me to even maintain eye contact because I feel like my heart will send you a secret message and I'll no longer be able to pretend these feelings are "all in my head".

I have good reason to assume this. My mind and heart seem have been in a civil war for quite some time. Keeping me in a constant tug of war, and both of my arms are soon to break off completely. Heart shouting to just jump. Let my emotions flow out like an undamned river. Mind telling me I'm lucky to have you at all. Both valid points. But I won't be able to go through another encounter without exploding with desire. I'm hoping you don't push me away, but I'm getting ready for this shit to hit the fan. Prepare for one hell of a clean-up.

Remeber When We Weren't?

I wanted you so badly it made me sick. The vomiting and cold sweats I could deal with, but not your face in every thought. Behind every word I spoke. Awkward glances towards you in hopes of catching your attention. Hoping maybe you were doing the same. Almost worshiping you. But I should have been because you were pretty much my god at the time.

You had me wrapped around your fingers (and every other part of your body) and you didn't even know it. Still don't actually. See, that's one of my few talents. Making sure those messy little emotions don't fuck things up. So you never caught on.

My fantasies of you became so realistic that I could feel your lips on mine. Skin heating and pulsing in anticipation. The cold hard metal of my squeeky old pick-up sticking to our shadow covered forms. Feel the gentle march of your fingers up to that place that had been yours for quite some time. You fit like a glove. Your perfectly moist lips on my neck and mine on yours. Bodies blurring together in a passionate heap. Sweat the only barrier keeping our bodies from becoming completely one. Painted on to each other like temporary tattoos.

Only dreams though. Creepy, I know. But it wasn't on purpose, let me assure you. I was an unwilling participant in this game of chase. Unrealistic, because this isn't a movie. Guys like you don't end up with girls like me.

So I just kept on pushing. Made a pact with myself that this was it. Stole one last look of you and closed the door on that thought. Because the truth is, even if you had liked me back we never would have worked out. Because you are you and I am I. The girl that likes you too much and the guy that likes me too little.

Old Yeller

You were too much a coward for even I. A girl that can't even form a sentence without horrifically tripping over her words. You were more moody and dramatic than a girl on the rag. Too much for even me to handle. I was not about to sit back and be your "little wolf cub friend."

You tried desperately to flirt with me. Unsuccessfully of course. Attempting to gently sweep the mess of hair from my eyes (like this was some cheesy fucking 1970s movie). Laughed and grazed my arm as if you had been shopping for tips in an issue of Seventeen. At moments like that I was sure my skin would fall off. Hoped actually.

I cleverly held you off with everything but a stick. Then you finally did it. Went in for a kill shot. Thankfully my reflexes were fast enough to catch the blow with my cheek. Hydrochloric acid. That's what the wet sticky feel of your lips felt like upon my face. That was when my manners seemed to grow legs and sprint off of the bus. It took everything not to castrate you. Instead I shot you down like Old Yeller. No getting up from that one bud.

For a Cancer Patient

You couldn't even make it to the bathroom door before the contents of your stomach spilled out upon the linoleum. I raced to your side to hold back your hair or rub your back or anything really. So I wouldn't feel completely useless. It was then between the "It's okay" and the "I love you"s that I noticed it. That crimson red that had so long been banished from our house spotted the floors.

I began to sob for what I knew was coming and you from embarrassment. We slumped to the floor and hopelessly held each other and cried. Probably for hours. And then you told me that everything was fine. That we were going to be fine. That you were going to be fine. Lying through your teeth. I could see right through you. But I forced myself to believe you because if not I would surely have fallen apart. Disintegrated. And you needed me.

That night as we lay in bed you thought I couldn't hear you. That I was asleep. Even your pillows couldn't cover your muffled sobs and silent prayers. I hope you couldn't hear mine. You then picked yourself up to go to the bathroom. I took that time to slam my fists into my pillow. Ask God why. We were good people. We were in love. Past tense.

That night you didn't come back to bed. I found you a few hours later hunched over the with those familiar crimson puddles around you. No emotion. I was empty. And I began to pinch myself because this had to be a dream. It wasn't. I began to think of all of the places I had gone terribly wrong. Where I could have helped you more. And then I stopped myself. To remember you. And where we had gone terribly right.



Okay this one is complete word vomit and I understand If you're like 'WHAT?!' cause I sort of am to. But yeah. This is it. This is what I was feeling and what I wrote down. Thoughts?

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This is the Mafia. There's no way out, but you can try your damndest.

My bags were packed. Neatly stacked by the door. I went over my checklist one last time and flipped the switch to our relationship. Our last goodbye.

It was the dead of winter and the stars and snowflakes and the hum of my car brought those salty droplets to my eyes. All reminders of the fresh memory I now had of you.

It was good. For awhile. Until your attention and affection began to smother me and I began to feel myself disappear. So lost in us that even with a flashlight I couldn't have found my way out.

I glance back once more. Open my car door and put one foot in. That was until your headlights caught me red handed. Those emermald eyes searching for an explanation. And once again your love trapped me. Like two little cement blocks on my feet.