one on one hundred lonely

clock on my phone blinks 11:17, I tuck it away and fold my hands
fold them carefully, like I might fold a fancy dinner napkin
the longer it takes to fold my hands, the longer I can avoid looking at
Him.
I watch a speck of dust sigh in and out, all around the room
the room.
Its so full. Full of people. They have faces, but to me they are all one shade
Gray.
My heart catches in my throat when I see a flash of color. It dances in the gray. Teasing. Luring.
Blue.
Your eyes.
I see them for an instant that is split into a thousand splinters and then shatters.
Everything falls away because for a shattered second I have your eyes. And they have me. So completely we have each other.
My hands drop to my sides. They tingle.
And then You're gone.
And He is there.
His gray eyes watch me with authentic earnest that only rolls off my skin like marbles, heavy with disinterest.

Hundreds of bodies around me.
One on One across from me.
One on One's all around me.

I go back to folding my hands. Carefully, articulately I label each finger, each inch of flesh in my mind something to watch other than the carnival around me.

The last label I reserve for my pinkie finger, as I tuck it under all the rest: Lonely.

you know the feeling...

you know the feeling.
can't breathe because it hurts too much.
can't think because whenever you do you think about...
can't move because if you do you will move in only one direction. its like gravity.
always pulling you toward...
in so much pain.
didn't know my soul could crave something so strongly.

you are my one. you are my only. and for allergy related reasons I can never have you again

Sour Patch Kids.

My all time favorite relationship. You got me through some rough semesters.

this break will sting.

running around naked

I told someone EVERYTHING recently. The truth in all of its awkward, vulnerable, messiness. I shed the old sweater and let everything out. Things I have been terrified to say. Things I have been terrified to face. Well I said it. I faced it. And you know what? I've never felt more liberated in my entire life. It was like running naked across a park except with my emotions. I'm lucky the park in question was kind and let me run around naked as long as I needed. It felt amazing. I don't think I will hold anything back. Ever. From now on. It felt too dang good. To emotional nudity, cheers.

i am a song...a giant, massive, infested, song....

I have worked out so many of my feelings through writing music lately. Seriously. Who needs a therapist when you can slink away into a world of ivory keys and thudding chords? Lyrics run through my brain faster and more often than average conversation. I find myself thinking in lyrics constantly. This has many downsides...such as answering the register-lady at Wal-Mart in rhyme or alliteration...and humming like someone who has forgot their meds as I walk into work...or treasuring old receipts that I have used to capture my thoughts because my songbook is too full...And sometimes I even have one on one dialogue with myself through music...slightly crazy? yes. But helpful to my over all well being and emotional robustness? Very.

I seriously, seriously have to raise my glass in thanks for the song of today where I reside :-)

ps. working on the demo. Its REALLY happening. Like. Really. And I have been SWEATING my blood through some re-writes that I hope will pay off.

mysteries of said universe

WHAT is falling in love?

This has been discussed, dissected, poet-ic-ized-ed, music-a-fied since the dawn of the ages.

I have a collection of theories and thoughts. In no particular order I give them to you.

Falling in Love:

Having faith enough in another person to give them your heart.

Letting yourself feel too much, too fast and face planting in the end.

Breaking down your own walls to not only let in, but let out.

Thinking be damned. Feel it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Fearless. Fearless. Fearless.

Not knowing for sure...but daring to go there anyway.

You cannot choose love necessarily, but you cannot feel love without becoming vulnerable, and you do choose who you are vulnerable to. So choose to be vulnerable. Better to feel the start of something, the hurt, the disappointment ... then to never feel at all. You can never feel the fullness of love without risking the sorrow. So risk. Risk it all.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Fearless. Fearless. Fearless.

And this post is utterly pointless except to help me explore song writing options. ha. Wow. WOW.