Dizzy Me Up, Drink My Heart In, and Call Me Baby One More Time
 

I remember when we danced,
Clumsy waltzing in your living room.
‘Terrible leader.’ I said, but really
I just couldn’t follow
Because I’m like the wind,
That no one leads anywhere.
And I love dancing,
Because it is the language of
Love that humans speak
When words fail.
I remember screaming
‘I love you’ through my eyes
So loud I’m sure that you heard it,
Even though I’m too terrified to say it out loud.
So dance with me,
Because my mouth fails.
Little white coffins holding back
The three most dangerous words one can utter.
Spin me around and dizzy me up
Like I drank too much wine
And can no longer distinguish the walls from the floor,
Or your mouth from my lips,
Or you fingers from my fingers,
Or your soul from mine.
And I love wine,
Because wine tastes like love,
All bitter and sweet,
That brings colour to your cheeks
And warmth to your torso,
And makes you feel so beautifully human.
So valid and vulnerable.
And I’ll drink up any time you want
If you just keep calling me baby. . .

what do you think?

and i was unprepared for the sharp wave of nostalgia that wahed over me when. . .
 

i found my notebook.

the notebook.

the notebook filled with all my adolescent dreams and fears since eight grade.
all the pages filled with rambling about some teenage crushes
and some funny stories about made up people.
and bad poetry that was no more than want ads for broken hearts.
and all those secret thoughts that i would never say out loud then,
and some i wouldn't utter even now.
and those few "special" pages,
covered in myself,
a collage of all the things a hated being
and all those things i didn't know i already was.
and all those things that i look back on and think
"why did i want that?"
"why would i want to be that?"
and then i look back at it,
and see the secret beauty in that which is so disgusting to me now
and i remember why i wanted it,
and some small part of me still longs for it,
but i keep that part quiet.

all those pages filled in teenage angst
and those ones that were once drenched with tears
and those that i am ashamed to say were covered in blood.
all those pages that make my brain dizzy
that say things about stuff i forgot.
stuff i would prefer to stay forgotten.
all those drawings, doodles more like,
of girls all marked up
and arms sliced
and hearts with chains and locks and even some razor wire.
and all those pages filled with witty one liners
and self abusing statements
and every other teenage cliche..

that notebook was my life.




today a bought a new notebook.