Vivez Paramour

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I want to drink milk all day. I’m lactose intolerant. almond milk, more like almost milk. It’s sweet, but it won’t get the job done.

I want to eat ramen all day. and end up diabetic. 60% of daily sodium, in one packet of seasoning.

I want to write poetry all day, but I don’t want to read, most...

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We were so close, but so far away. <3

Roy Orbison's "Only the Lonely"

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So Close, But So Far Away

Better to end off on a 'maybe someday' than a 'never at all". How can I even say what I'm going to right now? This was the best break up I've gone through- not because it was a happy one, nor a bad one. It was heart wrenching like most break ups but incredibly honest, so it made me respect him and the need for it that much more. Long distance relationships are always difficult to maintain. It was one of those hopeful kind of splits too where you say maybe it will work down the road when the distance is lessened. And you know, I actually believe him.

Someone close to my heart told me, "It's easier to start a fire back up with the embers than if you pour water on it." I wonder, how long do embers last before they disintegrate with time? Everything that dies, must make room for something to be born. Maybe it will be reborn... One can only hope that our relationship was akin to the phoenix. 

There are always little demons in our heads telling us that we were the ones hurt and turn the love we had for them into hate because it's always easier to hate when love doesn't work out. Its always hard to resist giving into our little demons and peccadillos as people that had dated. But, I know I truly must care for him if my affection can surmount the usual need to feel victimized after a breakup. But what does one do if they don't feel like the victim. What are we supposed to feel if we cannot hate them? Even more so, what is one to do if one cannot let go of the love? Shall I store it in a box under my bed until we meet again on a rainy day?

The snow has fallen for the first time in ages tonight, just as it did for my previous long distance relationship that mutually ended. (I guess I have a knack for these sort of things). Last time, unfortunately, the resentment had already been engraved into my stone figure. Last time, the snow made a period of my life end frostbitten. This time, the snow has begun a new period in my life where I must build myself up to be the best person I can be, and hope that we will be together again. I can take many things from this recently passed relationship, but the most significant is that he has helped me love again. 

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Cliched Little Thing

Sometimes, I am a cliched little thing. I write love letters with hackneyed love expressions like "Roses are red, violets are blue", or "Be My Valentine". Then I start wanting red roses even though Forget Me Nots are more beautiful, but "love is blind" so why do I care? And then I start wanting a box of chocolates, but the only kind I like are the three-layered truffles. So, I gum the rest and funnel some Love Potion #9 to wash it down.

Then there were those cliched romance novella settings, the long moonlit walks by the beach, and moments where we'd look up at the stars outside like a couple in love, sinking into the grass; albeit I hated getting all sandy after showering and putting my PJs on, and the mosquitos bit at my ankles like I was a Tootsie Roll pop.

Then, came our cinematic cliche of the other moving away, and being catapulted into a long distance relationship. Oh, but absence makes the heart grow fonder my friends said! If that's true than why can't staying just make the heart grow? 

I may live in Hallmark's kingdom of cliches, but I meant all the "I love yous" I had handwritten at end of my cards. The only cliches are love's accessories.

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Little Red Valentine's Day

"Love is cutting apart a homemade Little Red cape to wrap your beau's Valentine's Day gift in."

My little secret:

I made a Little Red Riding Hood costume once for Halloween. It took me all day to make it from scratch. February of the following year, I cut up Little Red's shiny cape, and secured it to the box that my Valentine's Day gift was presented in. I gave the box to an artist whom I loved, spelling out the last part of a poem, painted calligraphy on small canvases within the delicate fabric-lined box. It was endearing, and was my first present to him- from my sewing machine, worn with my scent for one special day, that went straight to his hands, swirled through his blue irises, and rippled to his heart. 

To be in love with your first- there is nothing which can compare.

[tiredfoxes]

We Fall a Little Every October

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tiredfoxes:

your words feel like autumn, the way they sting at my cheeks and my nose and strike my heart so hard my tear ducts thaw,but still, they light me with life and a rosy color just because they’re falling from your tongue

and your body is like autumn, too

the way i’m wrapped up in you, warm and cradled with care until you shift your weight to one side or the other and i feel the chill in the air and wake suddenly to realize it was all a facade.

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The Irony of Importance

Nothing is as important, if there are other things as important.

The mind plays tricks, and the voice deceives, the eyes filter, and the ears screen.

We love to hate and hate to love because in loving we learn to love ourselves and hate each other, and hate to realize that we never really loved in the first place.

I am my own mind.

Nothingness plays tricks on me during the silence of somethingness. 

And I am absurd, yes it is fitting in this world of absurdity.

From when do we learn to live? We are constantly fighting for our own survival.

And you are absurd, and yes it is fitting in this world of ambiguity.

Nothing is known, and everything is uncertain. Time lapse screws with the cognizance of self.

I squirm in my own mind

and nothing is as important.

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"Men always want to be a woman's first love - women like to be a man's last romance."

http://www.great-quotes-powerful-minds.com/oscar-wilde-quotes.html

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Winter's Bite

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Winter Break

I cradle my heart above my head. Lately, I've discerned that there are far too many scars and bruises on it- so many that it looks purple in my minds eye. I feel colder like I've misplaced apart of myself along life's way. Maybe it dropped out of my jacket pocket when I wasn't looking. Maybe I will retrace my steps only to see it and not remember what It was. Perhaps, one day I will receive a phonecall and will be blackmailed because of it. Or, maybe someone will place it in Lost and Found. I am always lost, seldom found.

I've been lost ever since my first love ended; like a newly blossomed flower killed by the frost. Its pieces drop to the ground like tears onto my sweatshirt. Fragile tears of glass, touch them at all and they break. Sometimes when I fall on my tears, I break.

I wonder if everyone gets over their past loves. What happens with an honest love when a relationship has ended? Is it like a raisin in the sun? A Love Deferred?

  And now, I realize I was the one who let myself frost over like the winter-bitten flower, as I pick myself to pieces. "He still loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not" until I run out of petals to pluck, left with only a shivering spine.