now cracks a noble heart.

the thoughts i cant share

[mynobleheart]

mine truly

dear you,

i sent love to you-

when my desperate heart was so full

i said those words

“you know i love you, right?”

on a warm night from my new town,

into the ether, into the abyss

i told you how i felt.

becsuse sometimes

when the roar in my head stops

and it’s late at night

i go into the calm, quiet of my heart

the dark, peaceful corner that i keep hidden-

and i live with you there.

it was a warm night in july

nothing remarkable.

but my heart got the better of me

and i reached out to you with those words

“you know i love you, right?”

and knowing me

knowing you

knowing us

knowing our timing

you were probably getting married that day.

or maybe it was that week.

but it was july- you told me that much.

and knowing me

knowing you

knowing us

knowing our timing

you were probably getting married that day.

the irony of it all would be laughable

if it weren’t so heartbreaking.

i deleted your number tonight

because the images of loving you

that i’ve held closely, intimately, to myself

have started to turn to acid.

the taste of macallan on your tongue

has soured in my mouth like a promise gone bad.

i can’t picture the hands that i held,

that framed my face,

the fingers that traced my lips,

stroked my body...

i can’t picture those hands

without a band of yellow gold

wrapped around your fourth finger.

my memories, our memories,

marred by the promise you made to someone else

on a warm night in july.

i deleted your number tonight

because when the dull roar stopped tonight

and i went into the calm, quiet of my heart

into the dark, peaceful corner that i’ve kept hidden

it wasn’t you that i found.

it was me.

mine truly,

becky

[mynobleheart]

olive branches can whip

as well as bring peace.

[mynobleheart]

is it my writers heart

that makes me fall in love?

[mynobleheart]

puppet or

puppet master

strings and strings drift from me

i almost have fur now.

[mynobleheart]

there’s something

exquisitely painful

in reading someone so well-

in knowing exactly what they need

[mynobleheart]

i always know where north is

love is sizzling off my skin

or maybe it’s effervescence

like a bottle of champagne

it dances from my toes up to my palms and then up my arms and shoulders

it gathers at the top of my spine,

the front of my throat,

and then kisses me

before floating off the top of my head.

it tingles as it goes.

and when i can,

i blow it a kiss and send it towards you.

take a moment

center myself

and send you

all the love i possess

my cosmic kiss from miles away.

i always know where north is.

[mynobleheart]

i’ve been living so cautiously that i think i forgot how to be a person who is actually my age. i’ve been treating myself like i was 5 or 65 with no inveteej

[mynobleheart]

when will i stop having dreams about you?

[mynobleheart]

poetry from a non-poet

“i get made fun of

for my reaction when i see fireflies

i get so excited

people think it’s childish

you’re my firefly.”

[mynobleheart]

sirensong

you’re taking inventory of me

learning-

the length of my fingers

and my butterfly theories

and the holes in my jeans

and freckles in my eyes

and the break in my vocal range

and the authors who have whispered in my ears

youre reading my poetry in bars

and i learn how smoking can be sexy

because while you’re counting property

that is already yours

i have wandering thoughts

of sitting on your lap

and pressing my anxious lips to yours

and claiming territory

that is mine by birthright

[mynobleheart]

google search, a poem

“what does the color yellow mean?”

“yellow things”

“how tall are sunflowers”

“do sunflowers populate quickly”

“quickest reproducing flowers”

“do seeds need dirt”

“what flowers can i grow at home”

“what flowers can i grow in my room”

“why do flowers need sunlight”

“do humans need sunlight”

“define: need”

“define: required”

“define: unrequited”

“what’s a word for a word that means what it means and its opposite at the same time?” 

[mynobleheart]

5.9.1960

on the ninth of may, 1960

your grandmother wore her white dress instead of her purple one

it was 70* and beautiful and she loved how the breeze moved the skirts.

your grandfather’s mother loved white because it was

the color of his mothers favorite flower--

the flower that was first to bloom after winter in her home country.

and on that day

your grand father complimented on how light and free your grandmother looked when they crossed paths in the baking aisle.

and your grandfather was enamored by how her smile and the color of her dress and her vibrancy

reminded him of the sun on a summer day.

what if that monday it had been 65* instead?

and it was just a little too breezy for the white dress?

or

what if her purple dress felt more flattering that monday?

and she wore her black sweater over it?

or

what if your great grandmother’s favorite part of spring

was not the flowers blooming, but the birds chirping again?

would your grandfather have noticed the white dress?

would he have married the woman with the voice of birdsong instead?

what if they met two weeks later?

and instead of crossing paths in a store

the cross paths at a bank?

and instead of the satirical conversation about the merits of baking power versus baking soda

it was a bland conversation about which company made a splash that day?

and the spark wasn’t there.

and their paths diverge.

and what point in the what ifs are you no longer any resemblance of yourself?

you, my darling, are mathematically impossible to replicate.

it is statistically impossible to create another you.

if any one of trillions of different choices were made,

you could resemble yourself, or your neighbor, or your childhood bully.

do not waste another moment attempting to be someone you are not.

so many people, so many forces, so many choices have played out

in order to create you.

there is freedom in this knowledge

there is not a choice that you could make

that doesn’t propel you towards your fate

your destiny.

and the choices you make, no matter how small,

will have ripple affects for decades, centuries to come.

your name will be forgotten but the choices you made 

and the affect those choices had on your tribe, your people

will echo infinitely. 

your breath

your heartbeat

your anguish

your joy

are all miraculous in the literal sense of the word.

you, statistically, shouldn’t exist.

and here you are existing. 

[mynobleheart]

there’s an intimacy that comes from

3:57 in the morning and

prolonged eye contact 

i want you so badly

[mynobleheart]

i trust our connection

so implicitly.

through all the noise

i know when your eyes will search for mine

like a reflex or

a muscle memory.

through all the confusion

i know the answers to my own panics

my own questions

because i know you

[mynobleheart]

trip wire stares that trigger the volley of wit back and forth like arrows, bullets,  creating a distinct, intimate satire. a game between grandmasters feinting and charging and retreating.

4:00PM standard time sunbeams stream through the boards ive nailed together an inch wide crack that illuminates the subtle waltz of dust

[mynobleheart]

Ian,

I am a poet and writer by nature. I romanticize and philosophize and turn nothings into somethings. I would say that I don’t like that about me, but it would be a lie. I love being a romantic at heart. I love seeing details and being observant. It’s one of my selling points.

That being said, I need to stop romanticizing you. I need you to stop being all I think about when my mind wanders. I need to not be attracted to you. I need to not send you that one last message when I know that you’re not going to respond further. I need to not want your opinion on everything. I need to stop wanting to talk to you. I need to not have my heart pound when I see you. I need to keep the smile off my face when we interact. I need need to calm the fuck down. I need to stop imagining you kissing me. I need to stop imagining you fucking me on top of my dresser. I need to stop the stabbing knife of jealousy anytime the topic of other women comes up. I need to stop hoping that one day I’ll walk back to my car and you’ll have left a note on it. I need to stop hoping that things will go back to the way they were. 

Because I fucked this up. I talked to Salma and I was the one who made it awkward by acknowledging it. I hate myself for that. I would rather have the unknown than the knowledge that you feel guilty or awkward because I have a crush on you. I hate the distance you’re putting between us as much as I acknowledge that it’s the right thing to do, because I certainly can’t be trusted.

In reality, what I need to do is move on. To put the feelings to the side, to focus on something else, in order to get us back to being true friends and nothing more. 

I need to do that, but I probably won’t for awhile longer. Because it so damn fun to want someone, to pine, to have a crush. And so long as I can reign it in (which I will be trying to do, believe me), i will continue to pine from a distance. I’ll make playlists and cry dramatically when I’m upset at the fairness of the universe. I’ll do these things because it’s part of me I haven’t felt in a long time. 

And eventually, the feelings will go dormant. I’ll move on. And then you can stick with annoying me as you are supposed to be doing. 

With all the crushing romanticism I have,

Becky

[mynobleheart]

youre the face of the familiar stranger-

the best friend i make for 20 minutes on an airplane or

the face i share a private laugh with in the crowd or

the shadow i see darting around the corner 10 paces ahead.

you disappear and reappear at random intervals-

three years and then

a week and then

six months and then

three days.

and yet, somehow your timings line up with my universe.

when im about to falter

when im about to stray from myself

you pull me back, twist me around, 

ground me back into my skin.

its such a relief, for those few moments.

my soul curls and winds around yours,

relaxing and breathing into the sacred space we create.

i lavish in you.

pour my words and thoughts and awareness as openly and

forcefully as i can.

making the most out of the time.

one hour, one day, one week. 

before you float away again.

i dont want to keep running into you.