Fives Years and Another Day

i’ve often wondered
why has Life chosen
to give me the people
it has

is it my
Choice

or is it simply
Life

"what if all the things i've done
were just attempts at earning Love
cause the hole inside my heart is
stupid deep"

jon bellion said that
that was my “break up song”
i think i was just trying to decide
Life or Choice

now i wonder it again
but in a far different context
one i didn’t expect i’d ever know again
the First person

it seems rude to attribute
numbers but First has to mean
something
right

First a love

broken by my young dumb hands
Seconds a love
broken by other young dumb hands

and now after 5 years
another day to think
of the First
of Life or Choice

i still have dumbs hands
they simply have more hair
more scars
more tears on them

Life
Choice
i’m not sure which it is
that brought me here

i do think Love
regardless of the result
is more than emotion
or a feeling

not to say i believe in the one
but i find Love to be significant
and if i can
i’d like to not squander it

i don’t ask for promise
or trust
or much of anything
really

friendship would be nice

Owl

A rectangle of light shone, illustrating the infinite negative space surrounding it.
It was a end-of-the-tunnel or baby-opening-it's-eyes-for-the-first-time kind of light.
It was luminous and purely unique, because well, everything else was dark.

It was blinding to me.

I had seen this rectangle many times, though it seemed indistinguishable from the darkness back then.
Eventually there was a soft, pulsing glow that began to reverberate through its frame.
A glow that grew over years of slow movement.

My wide eyes peered through the window.

The man inside the windowed light was sitting, metal keys tapping beneath his moving fingers.
A woman appeared from I know not where. She watched the focused man.
He turned and laid paper in her hands. Her eyes raced and then she smiled.

I wondered at the two.

The light grew in its luminosity and the woman appeared again.
She sat. Then shook. Her face reflected the light with its dampness.
But the light didn't fade. The man entered and hugged her. The light didn't fade.

By now I was captivated by the interplay of these creatures.

I noted the steady glow. They both came into view.
They were conversing it seemed. He stared at her, her at him.
His face streached forward and they connected. The light exploded.

My wide eyes blinked quickly in swift adjustment to the light.

The light began to gain quality and clarity and shape.
It curled, weaved, pulsed, billowed, flamed, blinded.
Then the man rested a knee on the ground and spoke.

It is difficult for even one with so keen an eye for light as myself to describe how the light changed next.

Pine & Lights

Through the rear view mirror he watched the exhaust, vivid against the dark night, rise into the air. He turned the keys to the left and the machine fell asleep. The silence of the very early morning became absolute. He sat until the heat had left the vehicle and he could see his own breath before him.

He tried to start thinking, to get his brain to move to make him unbuckle his seat belt, to crawl out of the car and into the house. But his face simply contorted and tears began leaking from his eyes. He reached down to fight the seat belt off him but he couldn't see with his eyes awash with liquid. Great heaving sobs began to set in as he began to internally yell at himself for crying and demanding that his body pull it together and stop being tired. The man's hands gripped the steering wheel and his knuckles grew white from the strain. He leaned his head forward and gasped. The car's horn sounded as his head bumped the steering wheel. The man jolted up right. The crying immediately stopped. Within seconds he was out of the car listened for any peep from the house. He quickly pulled his carabiner from his belt loop and unlocked the door noiselessly. He stepped onto the hardwood floor again listening for any noises from up stairs. No sound. The man sighed.

There was no need to turn any lights on inside the house. Every wall was covered with strings of lights, all which were constantly on. And of course they would be on tonight of all nights. The man sat on the worn couch and placing his satchel on the ground as he did. His hands found the blanket on the couch and he curled up looking sideways at the living room's masterpiece. It was this bright shining marriage of light and nature. It was perfect.

His view of the tree grew smaller and smaller as his lids fell lower and lower. As his mind began to work again he thought about everything that had to be done. He still hadn't finished wrapping everything. He needed to go out and buy food for tomorrow. But he wanted it to be perfect, to be special. But he knew he was going to be tired and couldn't give all that he wanted to and hated that. And it all began to pile on again.

He breathed.

I just need to sleep.
Just sleep.









*Thud*
*Thud*
*Thud*
*Thud*

The man opened his eyes just in time to see two children mid flight. He responded as quickly as he could, catching the girl in his arms and allowing the boy to slam into his abdomen.

"Daddy! You're home!"
"Why are you on the couch?"
"Were you trying to catch Santa?"
"We were going to stay up to see if we could catch him."
She whispered into his ear, "Mom said we had to sleep though. But we still tried to stay up."
"Yeah, but we fell asleep. We'll see him next year though."

The man blinked the blurriness in his eyes away and looked at the children on top of him. He smiled. His eyes smiled too.

"Well mom was smart to tell you to sleep, but she had me sleep out here so that I could keep an eye on Santa and make sure he got you the right presents."

The girl and boy squealed when he said "presents".

The boy and girl jumped off his lap and began looking at all the presents around the tree. The man looked over and noticed several presents with "From Dad" written on them. He smiled a soft smile.

He pulled himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen as the kids still guessed at the contents of the packages. He put on the kettle and turned the coffee grinder on. He opened up the fridge and saw that it was stock full of all the preparations for a delicious feast. He smiled softly again.

With two mugs in his hands he walked back into the living room then up the stairs. The boy was shoving his arms into the tree trying to fish out the green army men he had hidden in there previously.

The man opened up the bed room door and placed the mugs of coffee on the bedside table. He nudged the woman. She rolled over, eyes squinting.

"Babe. I thought we were going to wait 'til 7."

The man leaned over and kissed her.

"Oh, wow. Good morning."
"Good morning darling. The kids are already up and ready to go, but I've got coffee."
"Mmmmmm."

The woman pulled herself upright and reached for her coffee.
The man stared at her as she sipped her drink.

"What?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"Merry Christmas."

She smiled.

"Merry Christmas."

Un Cœur Tranquille

Grey and brown ruffled upwards as the wind had it's way with his hair.

Hands supporting a cup of steeping leaves.

Breath slow- steady- calm.

Feet burrowed into the sand in search of warmth.

Chair, a long wood plank that had spent it's life drifting among the waves.

Peace in this life.

She appeared around the bend, wrapped in fog and mist. His eyes rested upon her moving frame as she trekked nearer. From tad pools with sea anemones, trees with high branches, and cliffs with gapping drops she came.

His gaze shifted for a moment as a seagull inched closer to his log intrigued by the prospect of food.

Empty-handed the boy gave the bird what he had: conversation.

"Good evening, friend. How's the wind been up there? I'm sorry I was so thoughtless not to bring a snack to share with you. I hope this doesn't bode poorly for me in your eyes."

The bird's eyes just rested on the strange boy as he continued.

"I don't know if you'd like tea, but you're welcome to it. I was thinking to share it with that girl who's coming nearer, but I'd be pleased if you tried some."

No movement, it simply watched him speak.

"Well, alright. She doesn't always want tea either. I suppose I've more a liking to it than some. That's alright though, we all have our preferences. She, for example, likes... Oh!"

The bird alighted at that moment.

The boy turned and realized the girl had walked right up while he'd been talking.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How's that seagull doing?"

"Fine. He didn't fancy a sip of tea, though. Would you like some?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks dear."

"Of course."

She sat.

And they continued to sit, silently, looking at the sea.

Hiatus

"I have to go."

"Ok."

"You're alright with this, right?"

"Of course."

"Please, I need you to be honest with me; are you okay with this?"

"I am. Trust me. I get it. It's really alright."

"Ok. I just needed to be sure."


~~~


She sat down.
These conversations weren't fun. As she had spoke to him there wasn't a resting feeling of conclusion or understanding. There was a gnawing feeling.
It was somewhere between the spike of a brutal migraine and the annoyance of hunger.

He sat down.
He understood her. It made sense, it really did, but knowing why something is the case doesn't change whether it hurts or not. His was an aching feeling.
It was between the wearisome strain of an old neck and the dizziness of sleepiness.

They sat.


~~~


"This is good."

"Yeah... yeah it is."

"And I'm okay with it, I promise."

"I'm glad."

"But it still sucks."

"It really does."

Considering Mountains

        The biennial trip down one state below had arrived. It was Heartland's ever-dispassionate argument that "Oregon is just a slightly-less-wet version of Washington" that dominated the first half hour of the voyage's conversation.
        "Sigh . . ." Heartland released her final exasperation and turned her eyes outside the hatchback's slanted backseat window. Her eyes remained unfocused as the car drove on past the repetitive terrain. In the opposite seat Rylan mirrored her posture, looking out at the passing mountains. He held his finger on the small window letting it slowly rise and fall to trace the outline of the mountains. The grubby finger he held on the window dirtied the glass as he drew the valley's edge. Rylan's eyes were set on the trees atop the ridges, surpassing the grime of the window. An enamoured smirk stretched Rylan's face in response to the green.
        "I think there's some snow on that peak" noticed Rylan.
        "Really?" came Heartland's feigned excitement.
        "Yeah! Just right over there. See?" Rylan pointed ecstatically with a little jump muffled by the seatbelt.
        "Wow. That's uh-maaaaaazing because we neeeeever see any of that upstate." Heartland opened her mouth wide in satirical awe.
        "Hey! The snow is cool!"
        "Oh yes. It's cold all right."
        "Come on, sis'. Don't you know that every snow flake is different? That means this snow can't be the same as our snow. It's different. You say you want something different, right?"
        "Mmm. Sure. This is precisely what I had in mind: piles of rocks with frozen water on top of them."
        "Don't be smart with me!" Rylan squeecked with an effortful frown.
        "Ok. I'll be dumb with you," she made a face with her tongue half out of her mouth then snapped back, "Seriously, you need to stop copying the 'rents."
        "Why do you call them that?"
        "Because they're rentals, duh."
        Rylan's brow furrowed.
        "What is that supposed to mean?"
        "Above your pay grade, kiddo."
        "My name is Rylan."
        "Ry, the mountains and snow are great, mmkay?"

        The landscape passed.

        "Are you excited about the cabin then?" came Rylan's considered question.
        "Very excited. And I'm so glad that I was given a voice in choosing the location for our family  vacation," she glanced at the front seats.
        "I'm most excited to go play in the cool fort-bunker we made."
        "I doubt it's still there, but yeah, that was quaint."
        Rylan smiled.
        "Yeah. The trees are great there. There's Charles and Gregory, the Red Pines, right? And, uhh, Todd, yeah, Todd the Spruce."
        "They're real chums."
        "Yeah! I love vacation."
        "I'm glad Ry, I'm glad."

Requiem

The twigs poked up at her legs and the damp leaves soaked into her jeans, but she sat on the wooded ground still. The sea stretched out on and on before her wavering eyes. Her gaze traveled out across the waves yet the horizon pushed farther up to keep her from seeing the edge. The girl watched the ocean with a thin sweater draped from her frame. She let the breeze rip through her as it pushed up the hill, to remind her she had bones and blood, not just fumes.

Puffs wafted from her circled mouth and spun in the air. This way and that they flew and then sailed into dissipation. She didn't watch the ever-moving smoke. Her eyes lay on the sea.

Please just go talk to him!

no.

I get it! You’re confused, Damn it! But stop being a pussy by letting this be you!

why?

You have meaning with him. He can help!

screw me over and break my heart more likely

Or help you! Why do you hate him!

i don’t.

You sure as hell act like it.

i just don’t know.

Well obviously!

shut up.

She rose from her soaked seat. Stepped forward to the tree next to her and hoisted her body up onto a branch and sat again. Her perch revealed the sand to her. She looked at the crashing waves as they broke again and again on the billions of grains. The wind pushed her and she let it, only holding on enough to not fall from her fragile branch.

The girl let more puffs out into the breeze. Now she watched them. They rose and fell and after a few twists faded into the clear whipping wind. They kept her thoughts for a few moments. They amused her: their short life’s conceived each as a side-effect of her living life. In and out of existence in a blimp that she would soon forget.

there’s something poetic about that.

There’s something pathetic about you!

sigh…

Go!

no.

Do you want to help yourself?

i am.

Oh, right whatever you say depressed loner.

mmmhmm.

GO!

not right now.

Get up.

shut up please, i’m trying to enjoy the views.

The trees around her swayed back and forth from the wind with increased ferocity as the moon rose higher and brighter. She pushed herself a little bit back into the folds of the tree’s arms to escape the weather’s brutal onslaught. She cupped her hands slightly around her cigarette, burning her hands slightly with the dwindling fire, but taking the scorching heat as opposed to the relentless cold.

You can’t even see! Get out of here. No one’s going to chase you down here.

maybe not.

More than maybe! You make them think you want to be alone. You’re stupid.

i think they’ll see

No. No they really really won’t!

fine then.

You don’t even fucking care about anything! You’re just here to feel pain, damn it!

whatever.

Her eyes blinked quickly. The girl’s free hand rubbed her temples loosely. She was frozen.

But she broke from the thoughts and the cold long enough to pull her way down from the tree and begin off away from the beach.

Finally! See, if you want something you have to chase it.

i’m just cold

Right, it’s always the Physical stuff that’s the problem.

you’re a bitch.

You’re one to talk!

shut up and let me think

You Are!

damn it just let it go.

Let what go?

let me go!

Fine.

fine.

She sniffled but the cold tossed away the potential tear. She pushed on through the cold and the dark. The trees had lost their shadows, everything was misty and very not-there.

just keep breathing. don’t let up.

She kept walking.

“Francesca! Hey are you still out here?”

he’s here? he came out here? wait wait wait, really? why? no no no, where is he?

“I’m over her,” the girl faintly shouted.

She walked towards his voice. Suddenly out of the darkness he stood right in front of her. She looked up at him. Her pulled her in and hugged her.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

“I was just thinking. Sorry to make you worry.”