his endangered words, on the god damned brink of extinction. they spill out of him and into me in a coffee shop. the barista breaks a flower pot, and he wraps his words in quotations, not giving himself the credit he deserves but i still think his words are beautiful, that he is beautiful. dressed in all black. a long black scarf around his thin neck, a knitted poncho hiding his tiny figure. i write in my brown notebook about five a.m. showers and falling in love. i make lists into paragraphs and try to give them meaning, gold glitter palm, collecting memories like unicorns. i will never be a writer. i drive across town and stuff two boxes of hairdye inside of my purse and he gets me olive eyeliner. we dye our hair, he blowdrys it for me after, very carefully. always gentle. i am sitting crosslegged in my mom’s closet and my dogs won’t stop barking. we call this our empire, we have created something new. a collaboration on a typewriter, we’re evolved beings and we are still documenting the changes. we’re a little bit stronger and a little bit thinner now. we always warn each other now, with her recycled words “you have no idea how o.k. its going to be” it’s o.k days ike this that we’ve been talking about. today we don’t need that reminder and that’s o.k. too.
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remembering: your collar bones and my fingers tracing them, back and forth slowly. soaking you in, all of you. unsure of what is going to happen next, our mouths colliding after you say 3 numbers out loud, “two thirty seven, they aren’t supposed to go into room 237.” cuddled up in your shoulder crevice, ripped tights, your hand on my leg. trying not to worry about it to much, the advice of my freckled friend, “you will figure it out.. for now..fucking bask in it ok. remember every detail. put them away in your heart for when it’s hard.” i am trying, and it’s funny how things like this sneak up on you when you least suspect them, funny how you forget where your heart belongs until somebody tells you that you are worth it. that you are amazing, and you cry into their chest in a room that you have never been in, he is wiping away my tears asking me what is wrong, his eager eyes. it’s been so long since i have felt like a mattered like this. googling taurus and pisces compatibility, embarassed hush tones about liking the boy with curly red hair and awful sunglasses while sitting crosslegged, on a front lawn, green grass. heavy heart. putting off leaving, again. growing comfortable in your own skin, strangely attached to a string of people two hours away. the feeling i get in my stomach when i reach davidson, chainsmoking again, mix cd upon mix cd, a copy of chuck palaniuk’s choke for you in my bag. black underwear. a razor. some alphaghetti, again with the alphaghetti. coming to this city is always better than leaving. hating goodbyes, the dissapearance of the deflated panda bear on main street. the most beautiful liquor store i have ever been in, a train station and a sub par scarecrow hidden in the corner. memories of your green eyes in the sunlight first thing in the morning. my crusty eye make up, hiding my greasy hair under a touque in the summer, bad breath, toothpaste that tastes like fish, 560 calorie muffins warming on my dashboard, i offer one to your mom. you still think i am beautiful, and i am soaking this in. soaking you in. the look on your face when i had to leave. counting down the minutes until i am in your arms again, this is my embarassing confession.