when i talk to him, i miss you. the space between words where he and i do not connect takes on the shape of a girl and i do not revel in being misunderstood. i feel as if we, we are writers, and you took the rhythm and i the imagery and both of us missed the point.

i tell him this, and he says "being a writer, isn't that an occupation?"

so i've figured it out. when she was here i was writing to her, to only her of course because it was only she who could see through all i had left out and find the meaning, and she'd respond with perfect matching vagueness "i get it." and when she was gone i was still writing to her, or at least to her absence which was such a gorgeous and massive ( Read more... )

i've been using aol for months now, navagating it cautiously afraid to attempt too much. all the little graphics, the ones that animate when you approach them, have served not to endear me to the program but to keep me at arms distance. i move my mouse too high and the sheild signifying safety rises up. i step away. and all this time there has been ( Read more... )

we sat down to eat. little french restaurant, and i knew what i wanted before he did. he said "i think i'm pulling away from our relationship." said "i don't engage you anymore." and sitting on the table was the end of the world.

i am both relieved and distraught at your inevitable absence, which is already palpable.

from his house, the cars on the freeway sound like waves in the ocean. and we could see the ocean if we wanted to anyway.

the girl next to me, she has no idea how sexy she is.

someone, through long ago and far away, once wrote to me in a piece of sidewalk to last forever, or at least longer than pink chalk hearts in new york. so i am disappointed when she tells me that someone once wrote to her through long ago and far away right in front of her eyes. "5/22/86" but thats not the date today, she said. didn't you know? ( Read more... )

we sat outside. she, in her leather jacket, i knew she wasn't cold. she thanked me for not asking about more than she told me, and i smiled. she told me about how she saw the girl she loved after three months of not. it was in a public bathroom. she looked to the stall next to hers and saw those shoes, that bag. she knew she had been seen too. "you ( Read more... )

i hate to sleep alone now. it's different from before. now i brave the cold each night to keep my fan on, to feel the constant motion of the air over my skin. i choose to freeze over the abject stillness of my room in the dark ( Read more... )