The Literary Dreamer

I traced the carbon copies

of stars with my lips,

the tips

of my fingers

along your back.

            I could have lived that

1:16

for

            ever

                        and

ever – the moment

extinguished;

a glimmer, a glow.

            Remembering is an ache

because Schubert

at three

a.m. in an empty house too big for

just

the both of us

is like how the world

is too big

without waking to

midsummer storms

in the towers of your arms,

or

lying undressed

as you told me

the laws of physics

but if nothing travels faster

than the speed of light

then all I can hope for

is that

forgetting

is the exception

The night I woke swimming

in your heat, the moon

a bone splinter through

pale curtain gauze, is the night

that fills my shoes.

Away with

          wading shin-deep through rivers –

cobalt waltzes on Lakeshore Avenue –

          the sound of television static

through warm rain, shadow lips

          and ticking stoves –

Time is an intrusion, distance

is a key. I am light

feather-light

and you are the sand

          that filled my shoes.

Lately I’ve been thinking about how much I’ve changed within the past few years. Even when I think back to the beginning of this year, I feel as though I have become an entirely different person. We often don’t consider how much mistakes and experiences shape us, but after a relationship that lasted for eighteen months of my life, a new relationship with someone who I had been good friends with for over half the year, and all the friendships that I’ve lost, gained and maintained since elementary school, I can safely say that I have been influenced by just about everyone and everything. I’ve also been influenced by teachers who have encouraged me to value learning and to continue writing, and I can’t express enough how grateful I am for the greater and less trivial lessons they have taught me.

I was always quiet and reclusive, particularly within the past two years (when I finally stopped denying this and instead began to accept it as who I am), but I am often very moved by other people and their words, the slight glimpses of their characters. I love being alone, yet I love being surrounded by others. Despite that I was not as engaged with high school as I perhaps should’ve been, and that I didn’t condure enough of an effort to talk to those who I may have gotten along with, I was effected by just about everyone. And even though I couldn’t stand being in the same room with a lot of people I attended high school with, there were those people who seemed smart and interesting and sincere, and even though we weren’t friends, I was inspired by their opinions and their individuality. I think those people gave me hope, and I didn’t realize until now that I will miss seeing them in class and in the hallways five days a week.

And then there are my friends, old and new. I may have been a little tipsy the other day when I said this, but I truly meant it when I said you were beautiful human beings; all of you are. Each and every one of you have pushed me to become a better person and to take the best kinds of risks. At three o’clock in the morning I laid upstairs and stared at the ceiling and listened to the onslaught of rain against the windowpane, the shouts and laughter from outside, the hum of voices two doors over, and felt feather-light knowing all of you were so near. I think that was just about the best feeling in the world – to realize this was my present, our present, and nothing could take that away from us. Most of you will never read this, but I want to thank you all for those moments regardless. I really do love you all, despite your mistakes and weaknesses; your flaws are only gorgeous in my eyes. I hope we can feel infinite together someday soon.

Since two years ago, I’ve learned that romantic relationships extract an emotional but gregarious side of me that even I had never witnessed within myself before; I think I have unwittingly begun to apply these traits to other aspects of my life, such as my friendships and my writing. I have become more open to other kinds of people and new experiences that I had once misjudged. I’ve kept the morals that I’ve always had, but I’ve since realized that just because someone drinks now and again doesn’t mean they aren’t a principled and intelligent person, and just because you’re in a relationship doesn’t mean you have to abandon what you love to do. I have begun to see my parents as humans, and I understand that they are the way they are because they care about me. I’ve become more open with them, and even though we are entirely different people in just about every way, we get along well. I have realized that there is much more to people than how they look, and that it really is true that beauty emanates through character and imperfections as opposed to physical appearance. I try to absorb everything around me, to bask in the brevity of every waking instant, and to remember that there is a life outside of all that I presently know.

The changes that will occur within the next few months will be very difficult for me to accept, and it may take a while to be okay with everything. However, after talking to one of my best friends last night, he helped me realize that I do not have to grow apart from the people who are worth staying in contact with; I simply have to make whatever effort I can, and allow fate to run its course. I am content with the person I’ve become and how my final year of high school was spent, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I revel in the quiet, but I think it is the chaos in existing and feeling that moves me above and beyond all else.  

Inhale

Sunny, humid, a high of twenty-two –

strawberry-picking season, declares

the weatherman. I wear

a dress that hits below the knee –

cream, chiffon, just tight enough

round the hips. My palms and

knees are black, anyway.

Your lips are blue, stained

not with the berries from

your grandfather’s garden, but with

the absence of that first kiss

on the train, and

then come the beaten

brogues, the postcards from

Havana, dog-eared

diary pages and shards

of champagne glasses –

Exhale

Don’t you remember the little

yellow house you dreamt

of when you still fit in

the crook of your

mother’s arm?

you slept in the room

that faced the sun, now

your bed is where the

flowers grow –

Inhale

I want to hold you tight,

the shock of down

baby hair against my

breasts, pressing closed your eyes

from tipping stars, that day

at the park –

Exhale

Your precious head

hits the earth – there goes

the thump – so breaks

your lovely chinaware

skull, and –

happy birthday!

Sad smiles

            all around.

Where on earth did the time go? It seems as though just yesterday it was the end of August.

This month pretty much speaks for itself, really. School is over on Monday, my seventeenth birthday is in two weeks, and the beautiful creation that my Yearbook class has been struggling to put together all year is finally distributed and complete. It’s impossible to believe that eleventh grade is already over, and that this will be the last time I walk out those front doors expecting to return in September. I have spent the majority of this month trying to adjust to how things have changed, and preparing myself for what will change in the near future. In precisely a year, I will be leaving behind life as I know it and beginning a brand-new one in the the real world. I’m uncertain whether or not I am comfortable with how things are right now.