the long game

how long does it take for you to know
that im your person?
how much assessing
evaluating
weighing
& deliberating among friends
before you come to the conclusion
that i’ve arrived at months ago?

it shouldnt matter if you’ll be gone for years
because if this is real, it’ll outlast the distance.
on the other hand;
the years matter if they embody the test.
because if it’s real, when all the pieces fall into place
then you’ll know if my piece is still right beside yours.
with no guarantees
no commitments
just faith.

the drawer

6a4bed11-e1bc-4bd7-8ee4-46a0f0e6ad5e
“its a logistical thing,” he explains.
“it just makes sense for you to have one,” he reasons.
offering a drawer
in a man’s place
is a huge thing.. at least to women. [i think]
so i ask, “but what does this really mean?”
what im really asking is, don’t let my heart & mind wander off to some hopeful cliff to later plummet off of.

“its progress.” he says, as he pulls me in close to kiss my forehead.

grey

i wish
i could be the kind of girl
just along for the ride.
revel in the silence
& await the big reveal.
& if he bows out
before it ever gets to that point in this romantic comedy?
it’s fine.
rewrite the script
cast a new leading man.
you still have a movie.

i wish i could be that girl.
more than any other self deprecating thoughts i have–
this one ranks the highest.

but because i can’t
because i’ve tried
and failed
again & again
at trying to be her,
can’t we just have a go at me being this one?

& not consider each time i push for answers
to be two steps backward into the abyss of unknowns?
that grey area
where you can’t tell where the horizon is,
the foreground from the background,
or anything in between
is what got me here
in the first place.

this is me
in the middle of a room
with a hundred different paint swatches of grey
laid out around me
holding each one up to the light
to see if it matches the walls.

“is it more of a ‘classic french grey’? … no? how bout an ‘earl grey’? or ‘gauntlet grey’?

i think i got it–

“agreeable grey”

kis·met

ˈkizmit,-ˌmet/
noun
noun: kismet
  1. destiny; fate.

i may not know if this is the forever kind of thing,
but i ask God
that if its in his plan
to please continue to reveal to me
how wonderful you are
each & every day i have the privilege to even look at you
let alone hold your hand.

& if not,
to please be kind,
& grant me the biggest
boldest
most painful sign
that i cant help but acknowledge.

basically
tear you away from me,
in the most brutal way
because im too caught up in this
to ever do it myself.

the internet is for

the greatest contradiction about social media,
is everything is eternal
yet fleeting.

once its out there;
it can be screenshot
shared
reposted
or just glimpsed at
by anyone.
by everyone.

but it documents
our transitions
our aging
weight gain
single
in a relationship
its complicated
single
and so on & so forth

the interweb remembers
the stranger who stumbled upon my facebook remembers
the ex stalking my instagram remembers
so maybe i just always wanted less of me… out there.
to be found, to be seen, to be remembered.

those who matter, know.
i dont need social media as my walking bulletin board, i told myself.

but something about you,
makes me want to open all the windows
& shout from every single platform
how crazy about you i am.
in that annoying,
in your face,
probably bold,
all caps,
don’t-fucking-care-who-unfollows-me-after-this kinda way.

you make me feel
incredibly lucky to be with you
& its the first time
i want to share this moment with the world.

chicken or egg?

love thrives where love is rooted in commitment

what came first,
commitment? or trust?

how do i commit to something
that may or may not be real?

how do you trust someone
who you’re not sure can commit to you?

we’re both standing at the airplane door
shivering in anticipation
parachutes neatly folded in our packs
yelling to be heard above the roar of the engine,
urging the other:
“jump first! im right behind you!”

am i the fool for leaping first?