I Fell In Love With Him a Little Bit That Night.

I fell in love with him a little bit that night.  It was cooling down, but not so fast.  It was breezy, but not windy.  We were the only people sitting outside.  I could hear the traffic, I watched people walking down the street.  The wine was expensive and tasted good.  And he was sweet.  And he was funny.  And I fell in love with him a little bit that night.  But then we moved to another bar after we finished our wine and our dessert and our jokes and tipped the waitress too much.  We clung to each other walking to that second bar.  He was tall enough that I fit under his arm.  He was soft and warm enough that it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward.  We walked and clung to each other. I kissed his neck quickly, a soft peck while we were waiting for the crosswalk.

Then we got to the second bar.  We wanted to sit at the bar but it was full.  We sat outside.  But the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped lower and the drinks were unfamiliar and expensive and the music was jarring and our conversation fell flat.  It wasn't like the other bar.  It wasn't as magical.  The light was different.  It was dark.  The server was like a character out of a comic book.  There was a man to my left, eating alone, scrolling through an iPad.  I couldn't decide if I pitied him or envied him.

I had been given another one of my perfect moments.  I had been given a portion of happiness.  I tasted a sliver of happiness.  It's too bad it only lasted a few hours.  I fell in love with him a little bit that night.  But I'm smart enough now to know that it only lasted for that little bit, for that night, for that bottle of wine, for that walk when we clung to each other.

Sometimes the Quiet is Good

A fire is lit, the last glass of wine has been poured, and the air is chilling steadily around me.  I appreciate the hollow feeling in the house, it is better sometimes, to simply be.  When my head is foggy, and I'm feeling quiet and melancholy and old and so young it is good, it is good to be alone.

But what happens when you're tired of being alone?  Where do you go when you're tired of entertaining yourself, texting the people "out there" that are doing things too, living their lives, and perhaps alone too, but are fine with it?  The fire I "built" has already gone out, and the hour is creeping towards midnight.  Probably for the best, as I would worry about the wood sparking and catching our house without renter's insurance on fire, just like the lawn.  I really didn't know.

Thoughts of moving away again creep in, a fresh start, a new opportunity. It's the same thought that strikes when playing cards.  Just one more hand.  The next card has to turn my luck.  It's waiting in there for me, my break, my chance.  A life is waiting out there for me.  Something out there will make me feel afraid of losing.

I have fallen in love with ghosts, with memories, with moments.  But people - they're just dancers filling the space around me.  I'm standing still.

A Sunday Poem

Poetry.

Poetry. 

Just bullshit words on a bullshit blank page.

The clouds were grey today, the air both 

cool and warm.

It reminded me of Seattle.

It reminded me 

of wanting 

to go there.

I think about going

going

going

all the time.

I'm asked

all 

the 

time

whatI'mdoingwhereI'mgoingwhoI'mseeingwhatI'mwritingtowhomIhavesubmitted

and I have

few

answers to give them.

But I do

know

that I am trying to figure

it

out.  

I'm trying to 

become

who I am supposed

to be.