Clouds, Love, and Winds


The balcony that overlooks the beach. I keep remembering it. I was alone at first, and there were no clouds, there was the sun, my blue shirt, the chill in the wind, and the bright and yellow sun. I thought about going out to the beach, instead I stayed afraid to encounter charms in this land of temporality.

You came then, at first you didn’t, you called me, I am three hours away, I got mad, “Why did you make me come so early”, I’m bored. I took in the four walls, turned on the television suddenly a knock, I opened the door, you stood by the frame with your knapsack, you kissed me. It felt refreshing, like a drink of water in an arid desert, i felt your chest, your bones, your muscles, and as you lay with me, I admired the mark on your stomach, the boil.

I recall the many times we made yet another hotel our home. We went to wall mart bought uncrustables, hot pockets, chips, dip, we were kids making this foreign place our home. Remember the wine, remember that resort? with the personal pool, the jacuzzi, the round moving bed? Remember that night, I don’t. I woke up to my puke, I freaked out, you took us home, we fought, I left your ring, you pounded the steering wheel.

Remember the ring? The note that went along with it? You are the one who tolerates me. punch. my fist hit your head. it was in the room with the beach and the balcony, you beat me at connect four. I was tired. of the bullshit.

crazy, you don’t deserve me. I’m done. the pills. the oxycodone, rest brain.

you are there, you are holding my hand, holding my body, we are strangers in a hotel room. you hold me, you kiss me, I feel something. you give me a note, “will you be my significant other?” I argue with you about it, you win. I’m yours. “I almost cheated on you in June” you say. the note marked may 28. I don’t react. I’m inert.

lose yourself in the music. lose it. lose it. your sanity. who are you? Who was he? the boy who fixed your heart once? the guy who used to make you laugh, the one who was your best friend. no. he is your ex.


Dictionary Definitions





Romanticism- Is it an art movement, a literary movement, or is it the conformational courting between two individuals. Love is? no longer a cause for romanticism. 

Wine, Nights, Flavored Vodka



You are either tasting sweet heaven, or a dry bitterness. Red or white? Total preference. Chardonnay is too bitter even with cheese. And yet merlot tastes the opposite, sweet, like the temptation of kissing the boy with the sweet eyes. Like the temptation of feeling life at your fingertips. So you let him kiss you. You feel his kiss first soft, become deeper, more urgent, and his hands begin to touch your physical being. You will at first smile, then become hesitant, does he even like you? or is this just…sex. The hook-up culture. In nights of cheap wine and the bitter taste of weed. But that night you have no drugs circulating your system. You are soberly kissing the boy with the sweet eyes and curly hair, you are letting him take your shirt off, you stop for a second, suggest the mattress be on the floor, the bed squeaks.

As you lay with him the kissing continues, the light is off, more clothes come off. You convince yourself that this will only be sweet paradise. You are tasting a brand of sweetness that has no guarantee, but you continue. Condoms? well at least you have some. Did he intend to have sex with you? He has none. You struggle with the unopened box. And finally fling one at him. As he goes inside you. Think back at your dilapidating relationship. Feel like you are shedding an old skin. Don’t look at him. Just feel him react. Then suddenly feel the finale on his part. Be polite and pretend. Pretend that you too have felt something.

It’s the night. Lay on your bed next to him, feel your heartbeat, enjoy the feeling of not immediately breaking away to take a shower. Comment on the pace of your heartbeat. Did everything happen too fast? Lay next to him as he checks social media websites. Did you smile? Let him hold you. Love the feeling that he brings you. But don’t expect more. As you sleep, dream of him. This has never happened. He is a rare phenomenon. You finally feel connected to someone.

Wake up in the morning, sober, no physical hangover, instead emotional turmoil will begin to storm your mind. feel the rush, eat cereal, sit next to the foot of the mattress as he sleeps. Look back. Never has a boy just slept in your room during the day, recall his arms around your body. Normal events with a touch of enchantment. spend the last two hours before he leaves once more in his arms, touch his hair, feel the pecks of his lips on yours, open your eye and see his, smile. And then watch him leave, see your room once more empty. And walk out. Get a text about his left behind charger, feel excited to see him again, but don’t expect it.

You got drunk, and now you are once more sober, without the good feeling of the boy with the curly hair and pretty eyes. Resort to nights of flavored vodka and wine with your friends. Will he ever come again?