Condensed and Injected

The last time I saw him he would look at me like he was trying to peel the layers of facade away from who I truly was. It had been a handful of years since then. Granted, things had changed; including my inclination to be swept up by unremarkable lovers; but he wasn’t even looking at me. I had been in the practice of peeling away my own unnecessary reservations, but I wasn’t totally void of a guard that needed to be coaxed into taking a step back and I was disappointed in his lack of effort.

“Come here, you,” he whispered emptily as he pulled me closer and kissed my neck. This was all wrong. We were supposed to be facing the other way in a warm room draped in California summer and stuffed with meaning. 

I began I mourn the evolution of my mentality, because maybe it was just me. Being lost and open to letting someone catch my falling spirit had allowed me to get swept up in all that was him. I had felt like we were some sort of androgynous soul.

I tried to get back some of who I was in that California summer. Perhaps being slightly delusional would help me appreciate this unexpected second chance.

But when I locked eyes with him, I felt nothing. I was no longer pulled into what had once been the spirit of the world. 

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Untitled; 198 words 

The train stalls just as I see he’s holding some other girl’s hand. I look up and out the window. I’m doing my quietest panic, seeing as I’d rather not give my fellow passengers a more memorable commute.
In the empty courtyard below there’s a figure dancing, headphone cord swaying. I title the display “rhythmic jumping.” My hand is burning. I look back at her hand in his. The burning spreads to my face. She has nice nails; way nicer than mine.
There was that one time we walked down that icy road holding hands for support and joking that we’d let the other fall. We had made some sort of bet back at the bar that we’d decided had ended in a draw. The stakes involved a number of kisses; which we now each had to deliver on. I used his hand’s support to catapult myself toward his lips.
The train slowly begins to roll again. I look up and catch the eyes of a fellow passenger. I then, almost too quickly, look back at my phone. As my stop approaches, I exit his Facebook page and note that stalking is not for the faint of heart.

A Poem About Winter

Breathe deeply

Drink deeply

Don’t forget to live deeply*

 

Footnotes:
*You might want to breathe through your nose because I heard once that it’s better for your throat because your nose hole warms the cold air before it reaches your throat and lungs. Or something science like that.
*In addition to the usual hot beverages I highly recommend anything whiskey.
*I say don’t forget because it’s fucking cold and when you can’t feel your toes it’s easy to forget what life is.

Nail files. 

The nails are always the first to go. They peel and fall away until you decide to eventually cut them off and start from scratch.
And then you watch them grow. Eventually you think, these are definitely longer than when we said goodbye. You take care of them. They grow strong.

Someone comments on them. You then stare at them all day, admiring your work and their strength. They’re perfectly even. All the same length. 
Then one breaks. You decide not to freak out. You file it back to a nice shape and notice how much shorter it looks than the others. But it’s fine; you know it’ll grow.  

Social Experiment: how to get blocked by one person on every social media site

  1. trick a poor soul into giving you his number
  2. have some nice banter with him but don’t come off as too interested
  3. make plans with him
  4. suddenly switch to crazy bitch mode
  5. get your phone number blocked
  6. use his number to research him on the Google and find him on Facebook and then on all other social media websites you both use
  7. send him polite but condescending messages on each of his social media platforms. things like “good job”, “nice”, “classy”, and “asshole”.
  8. ok, maybe that last one is lacking the polite factor
  9. the message on Facebook should scare him the most, seeing as he’s now aware that you know his full name, date of birth, place of work, and what he did on june 5, 2011
  10. allow him to do damage control via Facebook messenger and try not to get too offended by his fear that he now has a real live crazy stalker person on his hands. your gig is just that believable
  11. play innocent
  12. confuse him
  13. watch as each and every one of his social media profiles seemingly disappears off the face of the earth

 

and there you have it. we’ve done the research for you so that you don’t have to but feel free to try your own methods. this is science after all.

goodbye.