Month: November 2011

absolutely

Uh huh, that looks great on you!
Nope, nothing’s wrong!
Of course, I cleaned my room!
Yeah, I listened to the song!

Yes, I went to sleep before twelve!
Nuh uh, I don’t have work!
No, I’m not judging when I stare!
Nope, you didn’t smirk!

No, I don’t want to be more!
Yes, I’ll be your friend!
Yeah, I’m really totally fine!
Sure, I’m on the mend!

Wow, I’m really happy for you!
Absolutely, I’ll do it later!
No, I really don’t care anymore!
No, you’re not a traitor!

Of course, I mean it! What? No!
Of course, I don’t mean to pry!

Come on, how well do you know me?
Would I ever tell a lie?

faded blue

“Oh my God, are you wearing makeup to the open house?”

“Huh?” I snap out of my daze and glance up at my friends. “No.”

“You look like you’re wearing blue eye shadow!”

I’m not.

“So what is it then?”

I inhale deeply through my nose, close my eyes, and raise my eyebrows. “I dunno. Are they really blue, or are you guys being annoying?”

I go see for myself. A face stares me down in the bathroom mirror, void of expression. A few wispy curls poke out of the reflection’s ponytail and frizz creeps its way onto the forehead. The eyelids are light blue around the edges, so light that I’d have thought I fell asleep on the watercolor painting I made in art history. But I know better. I’ve barely slept at all lately.

“It’s my veins,” I sigh as I return to my friends.

They laugh. “You’re kidding. That’s terrible. You need to get some sleep!”

My eyes droop. Uh huh.

I need to get some sleep.

pull away

She smells like the secrets she keeps, with a hint of vanilla. He only pays attention to the vanilla. Her hugs taste like scarlet pomegranate seeds, and he has to fight himself to pull away. Her words smell bitter, her hugs so sweet.

His movements are melted chocolate; every step he takes is gold. She falls into his musical arms fights to pull away. His breath is poetry, his eyes a breeze. She won’t let him go, she won’t dare. They just can’t pull away.

Over time, they spoil the connection, though their appetites don’t yield immediately. The shouting between them tastes spicier than it did before. He starts to smell the secrets. She notices, and douses herself in more vanilla.

Soon, they fight to airbrush the relationship. Sometimes they fight just to break the tension. Her smiles are canned laughter; his hugs, paper-thin. Their conversations start to sound plastic. Neither wants to fight. It’s not worth it.

Their last kiss tastes crestfallen. She moves out. He misses her vanilla; little does he know her mysteries overpower her now. She gives in to the taste of mischief, nothing holding her. He stares at his reflection and vows never to get her back. Both he and she continue on with their lives.

Sometimes, they try to make sense of it.

Neither has a clue.