Adaptation

Just a little poem I spit out.

Adult Things

Everything was in shades of gray, blue, and orange

The sidewalk was gray and the street winded along, a darker shade.

The orange bulb in the streetlight beat down, apathetic, lending it's minimal efforts.

I suppose the only blue was you, your loose blue shirt that hung about your shoulders,

The more dominant color that night may have been black,

But I don't remember the black as I do the blue.

I sat on the sidewalk, next to you,

And felt the lingering heat of the day through my jeans.

I noticed the lack of callus on my feet when they thumped the asphalt in front of us.

I smelled the sickly-sweet cocktail of gutter water, scrambling below our legs,

And the fumes of my recently watered lawn.

Your tongue scrambled to accommodate your apologies,

I watched your lips struggle to produce every sorry syllable.

"I'm not mad."

I think I was mad, actually, but not at you,

Sure as hell not at myself.

I was mad at Time, as people so often are,
Whether he stays too long, or leaves too soon.
His critics form a useless assembly line,
I got in line.
I was mad, because Time had brought us to this point.

I felt that he had tricked us,
he makes it seem so bright to grow with someone.
It seemed that I had been running to a point on his line,
expecting the light to get brighter.
So I took you along.

I wanted us both to go towards the exciting point,
the point on Time's line that reads "future".
I was mad, because you never really reach that point,
The point does not exist.
We had reached the point called "Adult Things".

Adult Things: arguing, discussing, fixing, lying, supporting, solving, talking, aging.
I was mad, because we have to start being older now.
There is no going back to problem-fixing kisses,
we have to be older now.

"There are gonna be some bad weeks Ellie, but there are gonna so many good weeks."

An Ode to Brothers

Let's be honest, boys are punks. Really though - they're just the worst. Except not all of them, and not all the time, and it's not always their fault I guess. I realized that the other day when Mrs. Seal said "teenagers...all you are, are just big water bags, of water, just filled with emotions..." So I guess if all we are, are just jumbled bundles of commotion sloshing around, some toes are bound to get stepped on. Boy and girl toes.
So anyways in regards to the title, a friend of mine has been bugging me about it for awhile now and it's about time I gave the guys in my life some credit...for dealing with this:

{Me} ...and all of the shit that comes with it.

Thank you.

 

 

  

I'm sorry for the yelling, and the punching, and the crying, and the swearing, and the indecisiveness. I really love you all a lot. If you're not in a picture, it's because we don't have one, and that's ridiculous.

Untitled

i will kill the spiders. i will share my fries with you when you’ve finished all yours and are still hungry. i won’t ever pop my collar. i will never be rude to your tummy- when i hear it growl and gurgle, i promise to bend down and reply respectfully. i will eat the mushrooms when we order the supreme pizza. i will kiss the papercuts. and the door-slammed finger. and the counter-bumped hip. i’ll try my hardest not to get annoyed when you whisper questions and comments during movies. i will be the big spoon. i will let you win at wrestling. sometimes. other times i will not. i will go faster. harder. i will pull when you want. and tease you when you don’t. i will leave you silly gifts. not always. not on schedule. just whenever i want to. whenever i think you need one. or seven. i will check your tire pressure. and remind you to take your car in. i will hold your hand. i will love you. i will love you. 

i will love you.

Big Talk

I don't do small talk. I don't like it. Don't tell me something on the surface, I don't want to hear what I already know. I don't want meaningless observations rehashed in a different voice and then thrown back into the air, as if it's worth a conversation - "Nice weather we're having" - I know - "That's a nice shirt.", "I like those shoes." - cool story - "How are you?" - I'm fine - "What's your favorite color?" - Get out. Get out of here.


I want to talk about big things, let's talk, how about some big talk?


Do you speak another language? Where is your favorite place to be? Do you like people or do you like to be alone? Why did you start a conversation with me? Did you assume I was interesting? Was it because you thought I was pretty? Intelligent? Probably not the intelligence one. Are you happy? Really happy? Are you in love? Do they love you too? Do you usually have good dreams or nightmares? Do you like boys or girls? Both? Do you believe in a god? How many gods?


That's what I want to know, big things.

“You are beautiful,” he said suddenly.
“How do you know?”
“Because for women moonlight is the hardest light of all.”
“Am I nice in the moonlight?”
“You are the loveliest thing that I have ever known.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, Short Stories