gold, and lots of it

Somewhere between the pulsing static of hallway noise creeping in between doors closing and opening I remembered how wonderful it is to be carefree, and not ignorant or naive, but just free.

Free like rolled up sleeves, rolled off crayon wrappers, rolled on red lipstick
and the words kept spilling out of my ears, but not my mouth or my hands--

For once, studying and memorizing something has made me fall in love with it even more,
and it's awkward.

My inadequacy as a "writer" or "poet" is in part due to my untrained expression, my impulsive vomiting of words, my tendency to regurgitate all-too-familiar imagery with a slightly more grotesque spin in hopes of it becoming tragically beautiful—

but it is also in part due to the life I was blessed with, and for that I am partially thankful, and partially [insert shameful human emotion here]. How sad, and sort of deranged, that I wish I had more to complain about.

I read old notes, old words, and although it is easier now to laugh at my sentiment than it was then, my words seemed harsher, more vibrant, more shocking and delicious...when I missed you.

How sadistic and selfish and strange, to be in this state— to only want you back in my life for the sole purpose of writing about you. 1:16am thoughts are not my favorite...

Don't get me wrong, I have been scratching and scraping to rid whatever of all that grime and gunk you left behind; I have no wish to speak wrongly of you, to write bitterly of who I thought you were,

Rather, I miss that salty, astringent hiss of realizing how much I cared/you didn't because it was easier to write then.

Ah, but I will read this in the morning and realize several things, that are already beginning to dawn on me.

I have never needed you to feel alive, nor have I needed any of 'yous'
I will shrug and move on
I am nearly positive that it will be so much more enjoyable to write about requited love! (Right?)

For now, sighing and grunting is what I've got.

I just re-read part of this and I don't think I believe half of what I've said.
Happy Monday night, Tuesday morning.