He told me that a year ago when it first messaged me, he was feeling pretty down and out on all the bad luck he’d been having over the last few months trying to date. He hadn’t ever messaged anyone first yet and that night he found the four most attractive girls he could find and messaged them. That night he had invited me out for a drink, I already crawled into bed in anticipation of a long day the next day and told him I’d love a raincheck. He told me he never thought I would have cashed that in, but I did.
I remember when I first saw him, he was sitting in the booth at Denny’s reading a book, white sweatshirt and baseball cap. He was so attractive. I knew after that first night that he was someone special. He had just found something out and when he told me I saw his heart break, he excused himself and told me he was going to lie and say he was going to blow his nose, but it was clear that he needed to get his composure back.
I ordered some banana walnut caramel pancakes, I believe and he ordered a salad, I think. We talked about horrible dates and our online dating experiences.
He walked me to my car and hugged me and we went our seperate ways. I’m pretty sure it was September 30, because I remember thinking that the next day was my favorite month, October.
I can’t believe that was nearly a year ago. I knew then how much I liked him and in turn my emotions were set ablaze and I couldn’t handle them and we weren’t good at communicating. I didn’t know what he wanted, except I knew he wanted sex and I couldn’t give it to him. I wasn’t ready.
After a while, we stopped talking, but over the last year he’d text me every once in a while. I went back online in attempt to move on.
After a few months of not seeing him, I had only been working at the mall a couple weeks, I was slowly getting ready to close up. This day was always a very bitter sweet day for me, it was the day my grandpa passed away but my birthday was also the next day. I felt someone standing in front of me, thinking it was someone with a question about the mall, I looked up and there he stood. My heart fell like a lead ball to my feet and bounced back into my stomach and up to my throat. We talked a bit and he told me to text him.
It wasn’t until a couple months later though, that I decided I didn’t want to lose him again. He texted me the night before I had a date with a guy I was actually excited to meet. I told him about my date and he told me he didn’t want me to cancel, in case this guy would have been the love of my life, but he’d like to hang out again. I told him I’d like that too. I didn’t realize then that everything over the past year, it came full circle.
The weeks leading up to this, I had a realization that for my whole life I had been allowing myself to be defined by my virginity, it started to make me feel sick. Guys didn’t see me as the woman I was, they saw me as a virgin. I had allowed this to go on far too long, it was time I took back my own identity. I allowed them to see me differently and I couldn’t let myself do that anymore.
The date I had was great, and at first, I had convinced myself there was a connection. I let myself get excited about that guy. I didn’t want to believe that it was him that I wanted all along, I didn’t want it to be true because of how hard that time with him was.
When the guy finally told me he hadn’t felt a connection, I didn’t want to believe he was right about that, but he was. And now when I see him post on facebook, I realize how glad I am that it didn’t work out.
I texted him and I told him I wanted him to come over and watch a movie with me, that I had missed him.
That was July 21st. We never put in a movie. I hadn’t planned on what happened that night, I couldn’t have, when he arrived the fact that I would save myself for marriage hadn’t changed. I knew, however, that something would happen, I prepared my body for it. My legs were shaved, I put on cute underwear, and made sure I smelled good.
The way he pulled me underneath him, the weight of his body pressing into mine, the way he moved his lips over mine, teasing me before actually kissing me. We moved into my bedroom. At that point, I still hadn’t thought I would have gave him my virginity, but the way he’s always made me feel and the way he touched me, I knew it was time, I was ready, I wanted it to be him.
Now, I can’t get enough. We’re not anything official, but I’m confident in the way things are going between us. I’m still getting comfortable having sex with him, experiencing new things I didn’t think I would actually experience for years yet, but here I am, not a virgin. My whole world didn’t implode, I didn’t become paralyzed. I’m still the same woman I was, but my idea of sex and sex before marriage and intimacy has changed.
I’ve never felt this way about any guy before and that scares me. I think it’s more than just having sex with him. I know that sex has bonded me to him in a way I’ll probably never be bonded to any other male in my whole life, but it’s more than that.
I know where I want this to go, and I feel he wants the same thing, but I guess that part is up to him. I’m ready for my next adventure, even if it takes a while to get there, but I can finally see it happening to me.
But I’ll let you know one thing, I refuse to fall in love with him without him falling in love with me too.
It’s such a big deal. I mean the weight of it alone could suffocate me. I want to be grounded in what I’ve imagined in my mind, the way I see things going, the way I feel that they are going.
How am I suppose to trust that he feels the same way I do, that I’m just as important, this doubt has become almost crippling but only in the stillness of his silence. I want to know what’s going to happen so I can prepare myself.
It’s a slow fall, the way you
look at me, the corner
of your lip tucked in
between your teeth,
I close my eyes afraid
I’ll wake up from this dream,
I want this reality more
Poetry is writing without words:
like the resounding echo of your
heartbeat in the chaos of midnight,
a whisper swept away in the breeze
or contained in the vibration of
a love filled voice saturated
in honey; poetry is yours alone.
We want to be noticed as if we’re
fragile & rare yet capable & strong
and we want to be seen as a human
who deserves to be loved for every
flaw stitched into our bones, leaving
footprints on the earth’s surface
and in the hearts of whom we love.
My instinct was to write you a letter again, to write out the feelings I have no idea how to verbally express or physically show you. But I’ve learned you’re not the letter reading type. So you’ll never read this one.
I’ve never felt this scared before, I gave you one of the biggest parts of myself and you’re one of the hardest people to read. Silence to me radiates with unknown possibilities of what’s going through your head. Silence tells me to worry, to assume, to over think. Silence tells me I’m not important, cared about, thought about.
I’m sure of what I want and I’m sure of how I feel, the only unsure part remains to be your end of those feelings, whether you share the same desires as I do. I want to learn all of the insignificant details that make up the man you are. I get small glimpses here and there but it’s never enough to satisfy my hunger.
I want to become someone that no one else has been to you. Allow me to be that.
We live universally—
fighting our own verison
of the same battles
(where war wages on
uncertainty and excuses).
We are bound by
with flaws and expectations)
and soaked in good intentions
(like keroscene, ready to set
fire to the fields we dance in)
and we ache alone, as if
we are the only ones
who feel this kind of pain
because it feels personal,
radiating poison through our
veins as we stumble our way
towards the horizon praying
to be found by something more
than what we’ve been offered.
Sometimes the world
is too bright, too filled
with a light that we
cannot dissect into
sometimes the darkness
turns warm and comfortable,
sometimes my ears turn mute
and my lips rest in a straight
line and I don’t have to force
them into a smile that I
sometimes, I’m worn out
by my own personality.
I struggle with hesitation,
in wake between reality
and expectations, I stand
on land I’ve never traveled
and the fear inside me wells
up like a geyser, ready to eject
from underneath the earth-
and I’m unsure of how to place
my investments and afraid
of being left bankrupt.
It was the way you laid me on my back,
on top my bed, clean sheets stained
in a new way, pulling at the corners-
lips on my neck, filling the empty spaces
in between my legs- gentle and firm,
the way you moved your hands across
my canvas confidently— it was the way
you mummered in my ear and bite
the edge of your bottom lip-
it was the way you crawled into my back
seat pulling me on top, your arms
wrapped around my waist breathing
heavy in the little oxygen we contained
and with fogged windows, under
the lights on your parents street—
and it was the way you kissed me
goonight, telling me by the way
I looked very beautiful.
love you crazy
There’s a madness that leaks from your veins,
dripping against the rest of your internal organs-
as a warmth spreads through your limbs, covering
your bones like the wind covers the earth.
We crave the satisfaction of another’s touch, skin
against skin, human nature colliding inside two beating
hearts, relationships that stand against time and tragedy
despited the freedom of summer and winter’s frost bite.
We could stand firm on our own two feet in the whirlwind
of this world, chaotic and messy, however, we both
realize an arm to lean into and an arm to offer is what
delievers us from the evil we watch through television sets.
Tear down these walls we’ve built, brick by brick, opening
windows to let the evening breeze cool our heated
and exhausted living bodies as we work for our dreams.
Remember to make the bed you sleep in and pack
the very kindness and beauty you seek—and love crazy.
I’m okay, you know? There are moments I’m not going to be okay and there are moments I’m going to feel like the world as I know it starts to crush me with it’s corners and destruction. I worry too much, I over think and over analyze and assume when silence becomes too heavy for me to handle. I look at this guy and man he makes me weak in the knees and I look at myself in the mirror and I have no clue how he could even like me… Sure, I’m beautiful but it’s almost this poetic beauty. I’ve been too poisoned by society’s view of the idea woman and sometimes I forget myself in that…
See I’ve never been able to scream
checkmate because I’m not
even on the board.
I hand out my confessions
with rainclouds ever-so-lightly
with the hesitancy to accept
however small this storm
will grow—I’ll hand you every
part of me