musings

writing, prose, poetry 24 + Aquarius + a.w + she/her

[inkskinned]

driving all night and into the morning with your head lolling in the passenger seat. i don't want to romanticize cars because henry ford is evil; but i am in love with you and therefore everything feels romantic, even gas stations. i tell you i don't like the car-obsessed infrastructure of america; the same old rant about public transportation and energy costs and how racism and bigotry work together to hasten the End Times. you nod along and make sure i eat.

the sun putting down gentle feelers onto the winter sticks of massachusetts. feeling your hand in mine while we listen to a new album, ranking each song quietly. your jaw limned with the red-green passage of streetlamps. your hands around the large order of french fries we split between us. without comment, you pass me the biggest one. somewhere in maine, we stop randomly for a walk and are overwhelmed by the beauty. i'll never be able to find that place again, and it's okay. everything with you feels new to me.

spring is coming and the car is a stick shift and needs oil often and makes a concerning clicking if i turn left. we sit and watch the ocean come in, eating takeout quietly while the wind whips up and over the rocks. facing forward and feeling-rather-than-seeing you listen; i tell you things that are real and important and are hardly-ever spoken. the engine ticks as it cools and our voices get quiet. the hour gets small and i'll be sleepy on the drive home but as long as i don't have to leave yet, i can stay for the moment. let the moment linger on.

in the backseat my dog lets out a little sigh while he stretches. the gps says 354 miles until we hit home again.

a car is not a pure thing, no charming aesthetic. and then you tilt back your head and howl along to julien baker. and i think - oh god, oh god, i'm so in love that even the drive is romantic.

[improsefect]

you text like her and your hands shake like hers

and she never wanted to see me so please tell me if you don’t want to see me anymore

I’ll understand, I’ve been here before.

how can I undo being unwanted, how can I let go of controlling it all

how can I not make every move, and how could I ever put my trust in you

it’s never worked out before

[improsefect]

the wrong shoes for a rose garden

“when i retreat into nature, i feel like my father.

there’s so many thoughts in my head. i’ve never really felt alone—

except for the few times i escape sunburned suburbia.

and it’s just me. the crows. the earth.

the walnuts watch as i pen the next semi-awful great American novel—

delaying my return to the real world—

and i wonder how my father survived this generational self-isolating anxiety.”

- a.w.

[improsefect]

I thought I was over this—

that I did all the hard work figuring out who I was going to be when I was 15.

but if the winds and waves change as they may,

why can’t I?

[improsefect]

every time i see you

it’s like you’re an ambulance speeding behind me;

forcing me to pull over, distracting my plans on getting from point A to point B.

everything is loud loud loud and bright bright bright

until it’s not.

until i let my forehead kiss my steering well for a second

until i rest on the curb for a little longer than the cars behind me would like.

they race around me, muttering curse words and obscenities

because to them, it’s just another day.

[improsefect]

i wanted to kiss you in the kitchen

[improsefect]

i’m writing sad poetry again.

it’s nonsense and it’s messy and it’s you and it’s me and it’s whatever the fuck we were and whatever the fuck we are.

i wish i could write something beautiful about it (about us) like i used to.

i have pages and pages etching every strand of you into every single word, every single letter, every single fucking pencil stroke.

and i’m not doing well on my resolution to stop writing about you, but i’m not sure if it counts that now im forming you into a monster instead of my savior.

[improsefect]

you have such stars in your eyes and it’s an honor to bask in their glow.

a heart such as yours is a rare occurrence, akin to an eclipse or alignment of the planets. 

a heart such as yours is larger than life. it’s larger than the seas i’d cross to feel your arms draped around my neck, it’s larger than the hole in my chest when I realize i’ve begun to forget the light notes in your laughter.

if I have to live life in the shadows, i hope it’s in yours. at least for a little bit.

[improsefect]

i see you in everything, reflections included

[improsefect]

the sky made me think of you today, as it always does lately.

[improsefect]

maybe I'm meant for this.

maybe my heart is meant to be too big for my body and too loud for anyone to process. maybe my heart is meant to be too much for anyone to stomach.  maybe I'm meant to write about everyone else forever, that I'm meant to pour my feelings out through lavender lenses until all the letters blend together. maybe I'm meant to stay up wondering how someone else would write about me. 

maybe I'm meant to feel things until I don’t. maybe i’m meant to wallow until I can be whole again. 

maybe I'm meant to process life like this.

And maybe that means it’s not better or worse than what everyone else says  I should be doing.

so no more maybes, 

I’m going to let myself scream,

even if it’s just so I don't forget how to. 

a.w.

[improsefect]

how bittersweet it is, the downfall of cowardice that i’ve always known

[improsefect]

my soul is burning the dullest of fires.

no matter how much i try and stamp it out there’s still sparks in the ashes, smoke rising into my throat

and this sounds like a good problem to have, that there’s proof i’m alive and oh god i’m still living and i should praise apollo that i’m still here

but all i’m asking for is some peace and quiet. and it’s hard to get that when i can’t escape the never-ending crackle of embers in my ribcage

i’m sick of being burned, of coughing up soot that reminds me of everything i could’ve done or everything i could’ve been or everyone i could’ve kissed

but maybe i’ll grow to love this pain that is so quietly loud, this ache that is so unbelievably sore.

maybe.

[improsefect]

it really felt like fall today.

i know the equinox was weeks ago but at that time the sun was still too high in the sky and still stayed too long on the horizon.

but today a whistle of wind kissed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine, and i wished for the first time in months, that i had brought a jacket with me.

the thought made me stop in my tracks. i grinned like i had just heard the best of news.

the end of the year always ties into its messy little bow so quickly, and this year i’m determined to enjoy it before it slips through my fingertips.

[improsefect]

my mind and body are separated

both currently searching for a place they feel most comfortable.

i hope one day they’ll find comfort in the same place -

i think that’s what a home is.

but it’s been a while since i’ve felt true contentment,

putting roots into the ground,

purposefully, and not just out of habit.

[improsefect]

i love fall, and maybe it’s because i’m envious of change being beautiful.

[improsefect]

hello, again

i’ve missed you like green grass and dandelions