valerie

you dont know this
& i may never in this lifetime get the opportunity to share this with you
which could either be my solace or my curse
but after seeing you that night,
i went home & searched for my favorite version of this song
& set it on repeat for a month [& counting]
its the soundtrack to me reciting the events of that night..
& being utterly unsuccessful in finding an answer for why im still even reciting the events of that night: except to frame the moments i captured with you
the solution undeniably always comes down to this:
i was captured by you.

i recall listening to the three girls singing this song
but really only being acutely aware of the way you would watch me curiously.
i remember asking for a hug before i left,
& the way you casually offered, “let’s hug it out” & came out from behind the bar.
you asked around if i was seeing anyone after i left,
which only piqued my interest even more to know it was mutual.

these small,
minute details
insignificant in the greater scheme of things
of things i do not know
& perhaps may never find out

but at least i have this song,
& in my head I paint a picture

unraveling

“It just didn’t seem like she wanted to share a life with him is all…

This part.  The conclusion. Lacking in so many details left out of a half-lived story, is what keeps me up at night.  that seam you keep thumbing over in your favorite jacket pocket that you wish you could just cut out but you know you run the risk of carelessly undoing the stitching. it’s a flaw. you know it’s a flaw. but you can’t part with it, because it’s a part of a bigger, greater, whole.

finances. not sharing incomes. i get it, people get funny when it comes to money. but like all other things in a relationship, you eventually learn to become comfortable with it right? like farting around one another, or confiding in one another about that one odd cousin you just wish would learn some table manners.  but if im perfectly fine keeping what’s mine as my own, and yours as yours, & not asking for loans from the bank of You, and vice versa.. and we take turns buying the groceries and splitting the electricity bill.. how is that not sharing?

the more scary, resounding truth for me, is not that the argument is about finances. but more, that two people, who are “ready” to spend their life together, can still have such disjointed views on what it means to “share a life together.”  people go through the motions, sharing what they believe, in checking off the boxes of what they are, aren’t, try to be, don’t want to be, but when it comes down to that grand scale of weighing out who’s giving, who’s taking, who’s getting enough, and who still needs more …  can someone really be in the wrong?

i have this thing about support and time. so the other stuff, the shared finances, the romantic gestures, the monetary gifts, are all minimal to me because i need someone to be my rock– sometimes when it’s not the most convenient for them.  maybe its a barter system in my head. i forgo-ed those, so let me have this. maybe its unfair. but ive never been in a relationship before, where what i gave in exchange for needing my other half in that way, wasn’t enough.. or unfair.

until this, i’ve never had to reason out why what i know to be a true way to win my heart, is important.. and why it should stay. or convince someone that i know what’s best for me, & no it doesn’t need more understanding on my part, or flexibility, when majority of the time i’m ok playing backseat to your other plans, your future, being your cheerleader to your successes & your ear to your failures (although there are few. see how much i look up to you?) i take a lot of energy, & a lot of talking myself out of my corners of defeat & off ledges of what i make out to be insurmountable fears.. but ive never been afraid of disclaiming that early on, so that anyone who doesn’t have the patience, or tolerance, can walk away risk free.

Maya Angelou once told Oprah, “When people show you who they are, believe them.” 

i feel…
like.
sometimes we stand on uneven playing fields.
& you see that we are
but i dont.
& you’re telling me to share,
play fair,
do it like you do.
& for the life of me,
i cant seem to get the coordination,
the gravity of the situation,
to get me to you.

you call me the pessimist
the eternal realist
& wish i knew how to dream
& breathe optimism into the doubt i hold so dear & near to me

but then i think of the times
when i was floating
elated
hoping for things i know seemed intangible
silly even
but would it have killed you to have believed in me then?
if not the dream,
at least in me,
the dreamer
who you claim has never been
nor ever will be.

but i swear,
every death
every departed essence of someone
had a reason
for being, & then.. not being.
sometimes its easier to forget the motive
& just deal with the results.

b is for bed space

its all relative really,
twin, full, queen, king
its enough until theres one more in it
its strange how the body adjusts
halving wholes to accommodate
shared pillows, blankets,
leg room, head room
until all feels right & comfortable.

share your bed enough nights in a row
& your body builds a tolerance
for the way he “purs” on nights he’s just slightly tired,
& snores on nights he’s exhausted.
& your body memorizes
where your side of the bed ends,
& his begins
[spooning only allowed in the first ten minutes before he falls asleep]
& your body conditions
what 5:15am, 5:20am, 5:25am, & 5:30am feels like
because of the blare of your phone’s four alarms you set

you learn to like it
the pattern
the familiarity
the unacknowledged presence felt,
when you fall asleep next to him.

but then theres space
on nights alone.
& you readjust,
tossing & turning,
trying to find that sweet spot of bliss
somewhere in that dead space.

over time,
it reminds you
that you used to sleep best diagonally across the bed
woven between & around your comforter
with all three pillows guarding you.

it reminds you,
that it felt good to have bed space.

starburst

“you are comprised of contradictions,” he says

& i cant help feeling like you generalized,
oversimplified,
all that makes me.. me.
brushed aside like the Saturday crossword puzzle,
after only filling in 40 down & 32 across
too much hassle you grumble

why do i feel like the facets
that create the multitude of complex,
[dare i say alluring?]
refractions
are the best part?
[should be the best part..]
for they’re carved of flaws
& dislikes, & likes
the love of beaches, but distrust of the ocean
the claustrophobia felt from sunday morning costco shoppers, but love of concerts
& so on, & so forth

maybe to make sense to another being,
is nonsensical.