howeverbrief: (Skull)
"Williams' Response"
Yea, the beauty of the missiles
falling from the sky,
the illumination as it bursts
and settles soft
on the people, dead and dying
howeverbrief: (Temp)
Every once in a while, my thoughts still turn into poems at work. Here are a couple I've written down:

My body wound tight, my ego wounded
conversations replaying with
skips in the
monsters mostly imagined
anxieties rising and falling faster than I
draw breath

She always said it
was the dark--
your cough more ragged
your fears looming larger
chew chew chew til
your jaw

The sun will rise

Desperate, trying
to keep my soul from keeling,
I lost all feeling
howeverbrief: (Temp)
I thought about poetry today. I used to think about poetry quite a lot, and now it only slips in sometimes when I'm trying not to think too hard about other things. Living in the moment has never been my strong suit, and the so-called walking meditation I attempt when I'm stressed out from working too many hours feels like an exercise in futility some days. I never write anything down. There's only so much you can do on any given day.

This session seems to be taking a lot more out of me than the previous two, probably because of the supervisory component of my day-to-day activities. It feels like wading through quicksand a lot of the time. I'm pretty lucky that I have mostly good workers who show up and do their jobs, but at the same time, it is not a perfect system. Nothing really is. I don't really want to go into details at the moment, though. It doesn't really do anything. Plus, Mike hears enough about it whenever we actually see each other.

20 days on, and two days off. I actually also got Wednesday afternoon off as well, but I find it very hard to relax. I ended up cleaning bathrooms, doing laundry, shopping, reorganizing, going on several walks, sleeping, cleaning cat water bowls, taking apart and reassembling the sinks in the master because mine smells funny (and still does, damn it), and pulling weeds among going out to a few meals and grocery shopping and whatever else I forgot. There always seem to be a million things to do, and it feels like they get compounded when you're away for basically three weeks. Not that I can keep up normally, but it feels especially hard lately, even though I have a lot of good help this time around that I'm very thankful for. (Sorry you're in Livermore, Mike. We'll be back together soon, and hopefully for more than a few hours.)

I don't know. I need a new perspective, I think. We're almost halfway through, and we're headed east in July. Just got to find the motivation to keep going. Just got to keep finding ways to make a fresh start.

Call Backs

Apr. 9th, 2014 09:40 pm
howeverbrief: (Temp)
In Aprils past, I tried to post a poem a day. I would already be nine poems behind if I really wanted to make that work, but here's a poem for the month anyway (if I don't manage to put some more together before then, but I tend to be pretty bad at remembering to write stuff down these days):

I don't know how long
we've been arguing, but I
know she started it

(I think about a lot of random stuff at work.)

PT is okay. I'm supposed to be ditching the boot I've been wearing the last three months plus, but I'm still not sure about it. I think part of it is even though I can move around a bit better now and have walked around the house without shoes, my big toe still doesn't touch the ground. It's kind of unnerving, especially going down the stairs (though that's pretty understandable since that's how I got into this mess in the first place). That's not even getting into the pain I feel just trying to move if I've forgotten to take Tylenol. Sheesh. My physical therapist also totally called me on something today. I was saying a stretch he did hurt my foot, but when he asked if it hurt my foot or my calf, I had to admit it was my calf. So that meant he pushed it further than he was going, and I felt kind of lame. And my calf hurt. And boo.

Also it was Mike's birthday yesterday, and I ended up taking half the day off to pull together a small surprise party for him (if by "small surprise party" you mean "just the two of us if you don't count the cats, steak dinner with party hats and a movie with cake for dessert"). I think it turned out pretty well given that he came home at 2:30, and I'd just managed to tape a card to the door as he was driving in. Haha. I dunno.

Still waiting for my sinus appointment. At least that's Friday, but my nose is still pretty freakin' annoying. Yep.

Yaaaaawn, okay, I'm mostly tired of waking up from eight hours in bed and still being tired, but hopefully that'll resolve soon. Maybe? Sigh.

I thought I had more to say, but I really ought to make lunch, fill my water bottle and pass out for tomorrow. Woooo hoooo.
howeverbrief: (Ink)
"No, not us."

Oh, that we would not
Oh, that we would fade
gracefully without sorrow
or rancor
The sins of our forebears
chastised and abandoned
That we would be so silly
as to succumb to silver
strands when the years
should echo and multiply

What a thought.

(And yet, oh, that
tell tale droop, that first
hallmark of youth deferred
And oh, all our plans for
it, unraveled.)
November 22, 2013

I haven't written poetry in quite some time. This came out of nowhere the other day, so I thought I'd share, with minor edits.
howeverbrief: (Black)
INSTRUCTIONS: Take the first sentence or two from the first post of each month of 2012. That's your year in review.

JANUARY: Start the year with a gigantic smile on your face. Laugh.

FEBRUARY: (In response to the Writer's Block question: Who is your look-alike?)
Hmm. While this hasn't happened recently (not counting the store clerk a few months back who went, "You look like, oh, she was in that movie with the thing and you know? Aw, I can't remember"), I've been compared to two people the most often. I don't think either is particularly spot-on, but whatever.

MARCH: So I've been having stomach issues on and off for almost two weeks now. I told my mom about it, and she told me to stop eating salads for a few days to see if it helps.

APRIL: (Also a response to a Writer's Block question on April Fool's Day. Guess I did a fair amount of those.)
I always think April Fool's Day is kind of silly. For the most part, I don't play pranks on other people.

MAY: "So--"
The question becomes
what I haven't said versus
what I haven't done
-May 2, 2012

JUNE: Oy. I like how even on weekends I call lazy, I get a fair amount of stuff done-- laundry, vacuuming, shaking out rugs, cleaning cat boxes, spot cleaning, running the dish washer, and grocery shopping.

JULY: Made it back home about an hour ago. Kind of sad that I haven't made it to bed yet, though.

AUGUST: I occasionally write in my paper journal still. Not nearly as much as I write here (which also isn't much of anything lately), but I thought I'd post it here too, slightly edited.

I watched a program (this program for those who are curious) that detailed the story of a mathematician (George R. Price) who, upon learning of evolutionary theory applied to social behavior, subsequently discovered a theorem that proves altruism is a trait strictly devoted to survival.

SEPTEMBER: Here's the dumb song I was just singing to the phone.

OCTOBER: I found out a week ago yesterday about the paralegal position. The head counsel who was on the interview panel (and who almost never comes down our hallway) came to give me the news in person.

NOVEMBER: And now, the moment you've been waiting for, my massive entry on my trip to Ireland with Mike!

DECEMBER: "What toothpaste are you?"

One day you find out,
after all those years of believing otherwise,
you squeeze the toothpaste from the
middle, and fool yourself later by
squeezing the remains to the top.
You stand motionless, wondering
what this says about your life--
while life continues to flow around you
-November 7, 2012

Seeing how little I wrote this year is kind of a shock. I don't know if that'll get any better, especially with session sneaking up on me. Ahh, session. We have our first deadline on the 20th, and our boss has already warned us that we'll probably be at work until 1 or 2 in the morning. Oh well. It's ok. Just hard to get used to again.

Get over it! There's not much left of this year anyway (and there's only two weeks until Christmas? weird). Got to keep it up! Snap snap!
howeverbrief: (Black)
"What toothpaste are you?"

One day you find out,
after all those years of believing otherwise,
you squeeze the toothpaste from the
middle, and fool yourself later by
squeezing the remains to the top.
You stand motionless, wondering
what this says about your life--
while life continues to flow around you
-November 7, 2012

Last month, while riding with my mom and listening to the radio, she turned to me and said, "Aw, I love this song. When I was a teenager, I always wished for a love like this. I wondered if it would ever be possible for someone to love me like that."

I had no idea what to say. I've never felt that way.

I don't remember pining for love as a teenager. Even before that, I don't remember playing wedding as a kid. From a young age, I remember other girls my age talking about dresses and flowers and what-not, but the closest I ever got to that was pairing up my stuffed animals. No matter what, my animal friends always had companions. They were either friends with the other animals or in heterosexual, monogamous relationships in my head. I never really thought about any of them being married, but they were never alone.

Then again, I was kind of a weird little kid.

By extension, I never really worried about dating as I got older. Sure, I had some crushes on certain guys as a teenager, but they were always short-lived and easily forgotten. The few relationships I had in that period, which were all dysfunctional, ended up being very similar. I fell into them because it seemed like something I should be doing rather than having any genuine interest. Hell, my first kiss was with this dude in the backseat of his friend's car, and it didn't even occur to me that that was a possibility. I was mostly there so my sister wouldn't be alone on her date with some guy she met on the internet. He decided we were dating after that, and I wasn't terribly broken up when he left me a few months later for refusing to sleep with him. So it goes.

What I remember more is throwing myself into school and being completely consumed by angst. If I thought about love, it was more in the context of melodramatic songs about depression and heartbreak rather than wondering if anyone would love me. I didn't like songs about endless love or how much someone couldn't live without someone else or all that other popular dreck. No, I listened to minor tones and anything dark and melancholic in those days (and I still tend to gravitate toward this kind of music and find it hard to express myself though any positive and straightforward love songs), maybe because it was easier for me to dislike myself as a whole rather than wonder what parts of me weren't good enough for other people to like.

Really, finding love wasn't as important to me then, probably because I felt like I had all the time in the world. What mattered was getting a stable life, being successful and knowing I could live comfortably no matter what. For some reason, though I truly hated myself back then, I felt like love would find me later, and preferably after everything else was settled. Even if I couldn't picture the rest of my life or how I'd ever meet the person I would fall in love with, I had some naive faith that it would happen somehow. I put it out of my mind and went about my life, confident that it would be beautiful and perfect when it came even if I wasn't anywhere close to it.

Oh, was I ever wrong about that.

By the time I actually fell in love, it was a disaster. College hit, and I didn't hate myself quite as much. Then out of nowhere love hit me over the head, dragged me around for a few months, then left me for dead. (Okay, so I still have a flair for the melodramatic.) After that sort of experience, I wasn't the same. I don't think anyone really can be. Still, my point is it was only after getting my heart broken that I had any sort of fear that I was not enough and that no one would love me, and this left me with an anger I never quite acknowledged.

Through time, I healed somewhat and threw myself into other relationships. I had a companion, but it didn't work out. I tried again with my first love with similar results. I waited for a while and found love again only to have it collapse years later after on and off bullshit.

But I'm not here to talk about my history. What I've realized is a lot of what I've been yearning for throughout those relationships is a return to stasis. I desperately wanted to go back to feeling like I would be successful and find love again even if it seemed impossible. Though I enjoyed being in relationships, I also pined for my younger self, if only for her belief that things would work out no matter what I did. I wanted to be loved, but I also wanted to go back to being ignorant, to believing that I was the only person who could hate me, even if that was pretty unrealistic. Even if it meant I was still alone, at least I knew I wasn't going to walk out on me.

What I didn't understand is what I really wanted all those years was to be able to get back to that earnest feeling that I was enough. I wanted to be able to go through life feeling like love would happen again, and even it didn't, I'd be okay. Either way, it would work out in the end. In the middle of everything else life had to offer, I wanted stasis. I wanted it all back, but I also wanted myself.

I think that, while I've had periods of being single, I didn't take enough time to appreciate myself and come back to that sense of stasis between relationships when I was younger. However, I've also come to think that perhaps I was remiss in thinking that sort of stasis was impossible within the context of a relationship. Perhaps I only thought this because it takes a lot to maintain stasis, and it's really easy to become complacent and forget to appreciate who you are and what you have, even if it's not ideal. Sometimes it takes a horrifying event to jar you our of your normal day-to-day life and remind you to take care of yourself, but that's not necessarily something that happens only when a relationship ends (and doesn't have to be something terrible either). Maybe being aware of this sort of thing and being okay with yourself regardless is enough. Maybe having faith that things will work isn't so naive after all. Maybe lots of things are still possible.

I really don't know. I've tried writing this entry so many times, and it's still not quite right. This is something I'm feeling out for lack of a better phrase. Really, it's probably one of those things I'll never figure out. Still, I am hopeful and open, and I'm happy with myself and where my life is going and who I'm with. Right now, that's good enough for me.


Nov. 20th, 2012 09:30 pm
howeverbrief: (Ink)
"Autumn Haiku"
Chardonnay, pinot
noir, leaves like wine droplets, fall
Nov. 9, 2012

I was into writing poetry a few weeks ago, stuff about autumn (above) and toothpaste (upstairs on paper). I thought the trend might stick around. Alas, it's dried up instead. I'm also a few entries behind, if only in my head because I have several things I want to write down; but every time I sit still enough to try, they don't come out right. I'm not sure if that's going to be temporary or what. Either way, I should attempt it anyway and not care about the results not matching what's hiding in my brain, though I've never been all that great at not caring for some reason. It doesn't matter. I know that. Still, I manage to keep coming back here.

There are things I want to say, but I don't want to say them now. Hopefully I'll come back when they're ready to come out in a more satisfying way. Eh, so it goes. It's fine. Whatever, whatever.
howeverbrief: (Default)
All of this, foolish navel-gazing
the worst sort, I know

"Look at me! I've found something

Still, once in a while I worry
I'll figure out exactly what I want to say

and no one will be around to see


Sep. 6th, 2012 06:06 pm
howeverbrief: (Smile)
Here's the dumb song I was just singing to the phone.

There's the landline
I hear you ringing
check the caller ID

Hey there, out of area?
Nice to see you again
Can't wait to tell you
how much I don't want to chat

Oh wait, I'm not going to answer that
'Cause I've got shit to do
And believe it or not
it doesn't involve talking to you

But you know, leave me a message
and I'll get back to you if it's important
No? Just hang up instead?
Okay, guess you've figured it out then


Now to watch more DNC and try to find some dinner because I lead an interesting life.
howeverbrief: (Black)
"Two Questions"
Do you love?
How long?
-August 1, 2012

How can I put this into words? How do I say this without cheapening it just a bit? I could give you platitudes or cliches, but those don't seem appropriate or enough. A lot of the time, I wish we could sit in the same room and not say anything. Just some sort of boring normal. Just be. I guess that doesn't make any sense. Who wishes for that sort of thing? Once you have it, you get used to it and can never get it back, I guess. That's what I hear anyway.

I used to write about slivers of light coming through the blinds often, probably because that's the first time I felt anything other than singular, that I could be greater than myself with someone else. I saw those rays as beams of opportunity, the way it all could be if everything worked out according to plan and I was somehow perfect (even if I had no idea what kind of plan I had in mind, especially not something resembling any sort of realistic future). Funny those feelings and how these kinds of plans never really worked out the way I thought they would, if I thought them through at all.

I still get the "Who's moving?" question a lot. I don't know the answer to that. I barely know what's going to happen tomorrow though most days are very similar. We still have to plan when we can see each other months in advance, for bog's sake. If I think ahead too much, my brain ends up mired in session and long days and all the stress that will go along with that, not to mention not knowing my schedule or when anything else will happen. If I don't think ahead at all, I get nervous about standing still for too long and never getting anywhere, on time or otherwise. Do people think I don't wonder about these things or try to figure them out? Am I wandering around in some sort of hazy cloud of feelings? Well, maybe. What am I supposed to be doing? Is there a manual, and am I missing all the deadlines somehow? If I knew that, I think I'd have something else to figure out by now.

But there's some way, even if I don't know it personally. I just tell myself to do my best and hope it works out. Hope being one of those things that becomes more precious as you lose it, but I'm still very lucky enough not to feel that way these days. Just my small and melancholy way of saying thanks.

You're still here, and that's something. More than something. Pretty [expletive deleted]-ing great.
howeverbrief: (Default)
"The Long Distance Void"
Corners of airports
a soul crumpled then flattened
over and over
-July 29, 2012

It's interesting the kinds of things that remain, the memories that continue to echo in my head. Every once in a while, I hear reverberations of long-dead conversations, strange sounds I thought I'd forgotten in the natural progression of time. Things are different now of course. The context changes. We grow or stagnate or veer off in different directions altogether. Life's not entirely predictable, and nothing stays the same.

I wonder sometimes if I've made any progress. Half the time (well, most of the time if I'm not being generous to myself), I can't tell in real time how I'm feeling or why, just that I feel strongly and wholly. It takes time to unpack all of this, and I don't know how patient I can expect anyone to be, maybe because I'm impatient and often frustrated with myself. I get tired of it, and I don't want to keep picking fights because I don't want to deal with the actual issue making me upset, you know, the thing that's no one's fault but just the way life is. Yeah, life's freakin' lame sometimes but only because I forget how to be grateful for everything I have, which is a lot. So it goes, a constant shift between wanting things and feeling bad when there's so much good already.

Like you said, better than nothing.

So I am 29 now. It doesn't feel any different than 28, only a year older than I was. At least last year, I already felt older as I approached my birthday. This year I didn't have time to meditate on it as I scrambled between multiple plan changes and lost causes. It turned out like it always does, but it's a fight to the finish and all that other stuff. Bah, I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. Oh well. Maybe I'll feel better by the time I go back to work tomorrow. It's all good. It's okay. Moving on.
howeverbrief: (Skull)
What do you do when
it's all over and
you can't go back?

Will you have done your best or
missed your chance?


May. 3rd, 2012 10:16 pm
howeverbrief: (Black)
The question becomes
what I haven't said versus
what I haven't done
-May 2, 2012

I think this April was the worst "poem a day" challenge I've ever done. I kind of figured out it wasn't working when a couple days in, I could see the days piling up while my ideas were either stuck in my brain or half-formed. I still have a fair amount written down in various places which probably won't make it here. Somehow I'm okay with this. The tradeoff's been worth it.

Sorry if I've been kind of absent around here. I've been trying to keep up with everything, but the same kind of things keep happening. Lots of talking and losing track of time. This isn't an excuse. It's just what's going on. Life and all that. I must say I appreciate not being completely alone most of the time, even if it's not necessarily what other people consider having a social life. I missed being able to bounce all sorts of things things off of someone else and pick at someone's brain and not be so trapped in my own weird analyses. I missed being accepted, even when I'm not 100% coherent or pleasant. I'm not saying I didn't have this before, more that I kind of lost track of it for a really long time and thought maybe it was a myth I'd invented with which to torture myself while it was gone.

My coworker asked me at the concert how I handle the distance. I guess her son is in a long distance relationship with someone who only lives six hours away, and, "I don't know how you deal with someone who's a few states away!" How do you answer that? It wasn't something I'd thought of before. Really, more people are dealing with much bigger distances than I am for much longer times, and who am I to say much about that? I'm no expert. I have no reason to complain.

I'm not saying any of this is easy or that the distance doesn't get to me sometimes. Maybe because we've only been together a couple times in person, maybe because we talk all the time anyway, maybe because it's still relatively new, I prefer not to think about it that way. A friend of mine once told me something about how you can feel the ancient form of longing in your solar plexus, that you can tell by the ache. I don't recall exactly, but if I think about it too long, it hurts. I've spent way too many hours in the last few years hurting. Still, I can take it. What's life without a little pain, if for nothing more than at least you still remember how to feel something? I don't want to abandon anything as it's beginning for fear of what could be. That just messes up what already is.

I'm not all that good at living in the moment, but given the way I've lived and what little success that's brought me in the past, I'd rather try savoring each moment I have now than worrying about all the possible directions and forms this could take. People come and go, and Tom Robbins keeps echoing in my head, asking how to make love stay. I figure if I don't know, neither does anyone else. If everything continues to go well, we'll deal with any and all complications later on. If not, the same holds true, just in a different way. All I know is in the meantime, I keep hoping. Hope being one of those dumb things you can always do free and clear of any other solid proof of anything. If nothing else, there's hope.

Do the best you can with what you have. The rest will come whether you like it or not. That's good enough for me.
howeverbrief: (Default)
I know you are out there right now

Looking to the east

dark clouds congregate
a wait for storms
inspiring silence

the words dwindle out until
little to none remain but

writ across your face
-April 18, 2012

Why am I still awake? That's always an interesting question. By all means I should have passed out hours ago. I think I'm mostly just in that too exhausted to go to sleep kind of zombie-state that's just perfect for rambling about nothing. Hell, I'm surprised I was able to get out of bed this morning after getting home so late.

Right, I should back up.

Last night, I went to see Yo Yo Ma, Kathryn Stott and the Assad Brothers perform. My coworker offered her extra tickets up a few weeks ago, and I found out she gave them to me because I was one of the only people she asked who actually knew who she was talking about. This makes me kind of sad for whoever she asked, but hey, it meant I got to go hear some incredibly complex music, even if it meant being more tired than usual at work today.

Actually, it was a surreal experience, not just because my family life collided with my work life since I took my mom and we sat with my coworker and her husband (I generally stay fairly impersonal at work), but also due to the kind of otherworldly awe I have about Yo Yo Ma in general. I'm not exactly sure where this came from, especially since I largely forgot about it until Carrie mentioned going to see him.

Well, that's not entirely true.Read more... )

I don't really think I'm going anywhere with this. I just wanted to write it down so I didn't forget. I feel like I'm forgetting so much these days, but I also refuse to give in. Where does it all end? Who's to say? Only I know it's not time to go. Not when there are still things to see. Not when there's still love left to give. Not when there are still words left to write. Not just yet.


Apr. 22nd, 2012 12:12 pm
howeverbrief: (Smile)
If I knew as much
as I did at age 18
we'd be in trouble
-April 22, 2012

Heh. I wrote that one really early this morning before I went to bed. Looks like I'm headed to Reno for some retail therapy... or something. My work clothes are getting kind of shabby. It's just time for something new and/or different. Anyway, I'll be back later on, I think. More to write about. Hopefully more to read about. All that jazz.

At the very least, have a nice Sunday.
howeverbrief: (Default)
Waking up, I say, "This day is
going to suck," while laughing
got maybe four hours of sleep
interspersed between sudden gales
bang, bang, banging against my window

How many times have I said I'd
fix that door in the last year?
I'm only ever reminded
when it's windy

Later on, as I walk around the capital
breeze full force in my face
trying to keep from falling asleep at my desk
the grounds people are plying their trade

The air has to be whipping everything forward
at least 30 miles an hour
Who thought using a leaf blower
was a good idea?

Nodding off near my break when
I venture out once more
a gust sweeps a weeping willow branch
across my forehead
tender even in this unforgiving chill

I wonder, how does it come to pass
that this is almost a caress?
Less than an instant, but just so
so I think of you
-April 4, 2012 (mostly)
howeverbrief: (Smile)
"Spring Cleaning"
Dear organic peanut butter
sitting unused and expired in the

I remember how, when I saw you in the market
your glass jar and odd separated contents
seemed like such a good idea
being organic
free of preservatives
natural and all

But now, as I'm trying to dig out
the last of your caked on remains
I'm contemplating chucking you and the
whole sordid mess in the trash
recycling and the environment be damned
if it means I don't have to fight with you anymore

I think I just described
every failed relationship
I've ever had
-April 5, 2012

Pink Salmon

Apr. 4th, 2012 06:13 pm
howeverbrief: (Ink)
"Pink Salmon Story"
How many stories can we pile
one stacked against the other
competing for space against urgent deadlines
paying bills, setting the alarm, and
you, here now

Somewhere buried underneath, another life
between you and me

Oh, how funny it all was
and there he was and there we were and oh,
how apropos

(Until one actually starts to speak, then
oh, I guess you really had to be there, and
only one other person, long gone, was.)

That's how, years later,
you'll catch yourself quiet
When you end up with a can of
pink salmon in your hand
thinking about broken bone and
bits of spine and how
you'll never eat that stuff again
-November 13, 2011 (Mostly, had the idea then and finished it today)

"End of the Line"
All this talk of loving and losing and
not knowing what you've got until
someone's shouting, "It's the end of the line!"
So it is, so it is.
Somehow whizzing past the terminals and all
the stops you could have taken
Alas, no. Not for you when all you have
left is a hollow chest and the words,
barely resonating in the tunnels--
"I guess it's not meant to be."
And how long have we been dead, love
too bone-weary to lift our heads and carry
these dusty travel cases away;
How long would we have suffered the fledgling
that grew our journeyed hearts astray?
-March 3, 2012

I went to bed at 11 last night. I wish I could say I slept until my alarm went off at 7 this morning. That would have been nice, considering I was exhausted when I tried to go to bed. Instead, wind slammed against my house repeatedly and woke me up (or maybe I never really slept) until 2:30 when I gave up trying to sleep in my master and went to the guest room, where I made the bed and tried to sleep there. Turns out the wind also likes to rattle the window in that room. Sigh. I tried my master again and finally got to sleep some time after that, but I'm pretty sure I woke up again a few times before I had to get up for work anyway.

Note to self-- try to remember to get the stupid sliding glass door in your master fixed because the seal is broken (which you knew when you moved in here) and this happens every single time it's really windy. Way to drop the ball on that. Again.

Okay, I think I'm done complaining now. Maybe it won't be windy tonight and I won't have to be on auto-pilot again tomorrow. Fingers crossed.


Apr. 2nd, 2012 06:06 pm
howeverbrief: (Black)
Okay, I guess I have some time for this again. Here are a couple poems, one old and one new.

They didn't teach you
how to love
But you did
(and badly)
-September 2, 2011

Only problem with
pouring out your heart and soul
is slipping in it
-April 1, 2012

Similar topic, but very different circumstances. Kind of strange to think about how much has happened between writing these short poems. I know I haven't been around much, but it's nice to know there's still something left in my rambling brain. I have a few more older ones in my journal and notes that I'll try to post over the next few days as well. It remains to be seen if I'll get myself to post all month, but it's a start anyway.

Yep. Hooray for April.


howeverbrief: (Default)

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