atmospheric dreamingSteal your dad's old, worn out Silverado. Pick me up at midnight and whisk me away without the muffler into the mountains. Take me to a clearing and lay out my grandmother's quilt in the bed of the pickup. Hold me. Shhh. Don't say anything. Just listen to the crickets' songs and watch the moon glow. Smell the dying deisel and the newly setting dew on the prairie grass. Touch my skin. Give me goosebumps. Kiss me tenderly. When the harsh lights of the suburbs have evaporated and the sun is awakening, we'll go back. But for now, please just exist in my atmosphere.
a personal noteI'm afraid. I'm afraid to talk on the phone with your mom, because I don't want to be weak. I want to be strong for you. And I don't want to hurt anymore, but sometimes I feel like the hole you've left in my heart is a black one- like you used to teach me about- and that sometimes it envelopes me and I walk around like some unwelcome kind of smog poluting the city. I usually just patch it up with a few Band-Aids and wait for the blood to clot. I'm afraid to cry, because I don't want you to think that you left something unfinished. I want you to be happy in your new life, because I know that someday I'll meet you again, and we'll play checkers
dear james,When I rounded the sharp street corner, there were a thousand pairs of eyes glistening like moonlit raindrops against the night sky, with their gaze fixed on the distant streetlights and stars; the only eyes that I noticed belonged to you: your amber, honey eyes, blinking and winking at me, to tease me. The most fragile times I faced were yours to walk me through, but you never did. You never held my hand. You never rested your hand on the small of my back without making me think that you didn't mean what you said. You lied.You ripped up every pleasant memory of us (And only left the bad times to eat away at me, might I add.) and th