calm.
the neighbor across the street,
washing his '87 blue buick like he does everyday.
a little girl with disheveled pigtails riding a pink bike up the sidewalk.
the crazy chic at 381 with flourescent yellow hair that we always make fun of.
jeremy's stereo down below... Pleasurehead, i think.
me, in a towel, airdrying,
staring out a window that my cats chewed the blinds off of.
no one else home.
serene.
misty.
the way it feels right after it rains,
when the wind blows a misty haze into your open window,
and it feels like kisses on your bare back.
the way the sky looks when the sun struggles across the rainclouds,
pink and blue and brilliant.
the sound of splashing as cars zip down the alley
and the shrill shreek of the girl on the pink bike jumping into the puddles.
the way your eyes feel,
glossed up and glistening,
the moment before you cry.
the haze that you see a split second
before the first tear falls.
fragile.
fiery.
spark of a match,
as you light a blueberry candle
and turn off all the lights.
the glint of a flame captured in a mirror
reflected in tearful eyes
as you stare blankly back at yourself.
the orange glow of your bare skin,
illuminated under the warm flames.
the flash of falling tears.
the shimmer of moonlight cascading through the open window.
a cantaloupe-colored crescent beaming in a purple night sky,
with a sprinkling of stars
and a breeze that prickles your skin.
falling.
shadowy.
the muffled sounds of sobbing into a goose-feather pillow.
the faintness of a scream blocked out by pounding bass.
the numbness of night,
falling hard onto sunburned shoulders.
resting heavily on swollen eyelids.
caressing a curvy body, hunched over in agony.
rememberances jumping out from corners.
emotions tumbling to the hardwood floor.
with the towel.
and the tears.
and the tick-tock of a clock 2 hours slow driving you mad.
madness.
blurry.
the way the world looks through tear-filled eyes.
the in-between grayness of not-knowing.
the swirl of colors which has become a midnight summer sky.
the collage of lights that is the city down below.
the jumble of voices that is children playing past their bedtime in their backyards.
the whispered words of a lover calling you to bed.
the meshing of 2 naked beings on silky suede.
the intertwining of body parts and duet of moans.
oneness.
brilliance.
the blinding of the sun's first rays
through the open window.
the hotness of a new summer morning, reaching with fiery fingers into your hair.
the stickiness of the softly snoring boy on your pillow.
the clearness of the air that smells of fresh-cut grass.
the drip-drip of coffee in the kitchen.
the exhilarating pulse of an alarm clock screaming in the other room.
bliss.
endless.
the neighbor across the street, waxing his damn car.
the flavor of mint on your toothpaste.
the zig-zag of people late for work.
the patter of little paws on the carpet.
the smile of intrigue painted on your face when i wake you with a kool-aid kiss.
the completeness of another day,
where i didnt cry over silly boys who broke my heart,
and have more time to observe
the beautiful fantasies
that play outside my open window
soulful.
[ 19 June 2002: Message edited by: E-girl ]
[ 20 June 2002: Message edited by: E-girl ]
the neighbor across the street,
washing his '87 blue buick like he does everyday.
a little girl with disheveled pigtails riding a pink bike up the sidewalk.
the crazy chic at 381 with flourescent yellow hair that we always make fun of.
jeremy's stereo down below... Pleasurehead, i think.
me, in a towel, airdrying,
staring out a window that my cats chewed the blinds off of.
no one else home.
serene.
misty.
the way it feels right after it rains,
when the wind blows a misty haze into your open window,
and it feels like kisses on your bare back.
the way the sky looks when the sun struggles across the rainclouds,
pink and blue and brilliant.
the sound of splashing as cars zip down the alley
and the shrill shreek of the girl on the pink bike jumping into the puddles.
the way your eyes feel,
glossed up and glistening,
the moment before you cry.
the haze that you see a split second
before the first tear falls.
fragile.
fiery.
spark of a match,
as you light a blueberry candle
and turn off all the lights.
the glint of a flame captured in a mirror
reflected in tearful eyes
as you stare blankly back at yourself.
the orange glow of your bare skin,
illuminated under the warm flames.
the flash of falling tears.
the shimmer of moonlight cascading through the open window.
a cantaloupe-colored crescent beaming in a purple night sky,
with a sprinkling of stars
and a breeze that prickles your skin.
falling.
shadowy.
the muffled sounds of sobbing into a goose-feather pillow.
the faintness of a scream blocked out by pounding bass.
the numbness of night,
falling hard onto sunburned shoulders.
resting heavily on swollen eyelids.
caressing a curvy body, hunched over in agony.
rememberances jumping out from corners.
emotions tumbling to the hardwood floor.
with the towel.
and the tears.
and the tick-tock of a clock 2 hours slow driving you mad.
madness.
blurry.
the way the world looks through tear-filled eyes.
the in-between grayness of not-knowing.
the swirl of colors which has become a midnight summer sky.
the collage of lights that is the city down below.
the jumble of voices that is children playing past their bedtime in their backyards.
the whispered words of a lover calling you to bed.
the meshing of 2 naked beings on silky suede.
the intertwining of body parts and duet of moans.
oneness.
brilliance.
the blinding of the sun's first rays
through the open window.
the hotness of a new summer morning, reaching with fiery fingers into your hair.
the stickiness of the softly snoring boy on your pillow.
the clearness of the air that smells of fresh-cut grass.
the drip-drip of coffee in the kitchen.
the exhilarating pulse of an alarm clock screaming in the other room.
bliss.
endless.
the neighbor across the street, waxing his damn car.
the flavor of mint on your toothpaste.
the zig-zag of people late for work.
the patter of little paws on the carpet.
the smile of intrigue painted on your face when i wake you with a kool-aid kiss.
the completeness of another day,
where i didnt cry over silly boys who broke my heart,
and have more time to observe
the beautiful fantasies
that play outside my open window
soulful.
[ 19 June 2002: Message edited by: E-girl ]
[ 20 June 2002: Message edited by: E-girl ]
