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rebirths   
02:46pm 30/05/2008
 
music: the slits - adventures close to home
surprise entry... not that anyone looks at this old dusty lj, anymore...

I left the city for 6 months when jorge's untimely passing proved to be a catalyst for me losing my mind, and consequently my apartment, job, and friends. now I've been back for almost a year and most things are coming up roses, and my new arrangement is constantly evolving. I'm a san francisco darling with an ambition in bloom, and nowadays have no problem dragging myself out of bed, but I'll never forget or take for granted the days that I couldn't. I'm still writing, and I started a new blog a month or two ago. if you'd like to follow me, come along!

blogalogadingdong

it's less morose prose and more sardonic sit-com, but still me. if anyone sees this, hope you're well.

lovin'

christina		  
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dolores park & other sorrows   
06:58pm 21/11/2006
 
music: sean lennon - dead meat
the nature of most paths leads to divergence
though it turns out fate took the long way ‘round
and winter in the city finds me on my knees
digging through bins at the lost and found
only here to pick up your heart

perhaps when I return it, it will work better
though heavier, tentative, uncertain
and riddled with fault lines
that in the crisp grey of san francisco,
may feel wider than the grandest canyons

see, I have already been down this road
I could sing to you of remembrance
or of steadfastly keeping your eyes to the sky
there are melodies that lilt through my gaze
of the magnificent sorrow of those first nights alone

to me, we're the bonnie and clyde of heartbreak
both left and leaving simultaneously
palms up because we’ve simply nothing to lose
renegades, combining our two remaining halves
to make a living legend whole again		  
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young folks   
07:44pm 20/11/2006
  jones and I laid with our limbs tangled together on the couch in an appropriate silence. he started to get up.

"I guess I'd better head out."

"yeah."

he looked down at me with a gentle stare, and sighed self-deprecatingly, "I'm really good at leaving."

"that's funny," I replied, "I am excellent at watching people go."

I closed my eyes and pulled the blanket over my head. we would both spend the night alone again.		  
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fade   
12:36am 01/11/2006
  Now, in my lucid dream-like state, I can hear him, see him, taste him, feel him. As if we were lying in bed, safe and warm, and could know that I would turn and see his sweet sleeping face was behind me. That’s the time I liked best. The time with his arms around me, because I seemed to have spent all of my time with arms outstretched. I chased him to the end. (would it have been my end?) I remember loving recklessly, violently, self-destructively, with this unstoppable force laced with utter tenderness that I felt with him. but, where is he now? where is all the good in this? At the price to pay costing me my first love, a handful of brain cells, I don’t regret one minute. Jorge was one of the most beautiful, pure, kind souls I’ve ever caught a glance at. Jorge had, as he would put it, “the joie de vivre”. He was a brilliant, compassionate, loving, smart ass, with his unabashedly goofy side. I always battle myself with this 20 questions, and come back to the same answer, which is that I could not save him from himself. But he was left an indelible print on every last string and fiber and vibrating electron of my being. He traced my valleys patiently with his fingertips like an oceanographer discovering ruins of the titans. He led me to the greatest precipice and asked me to jump. I’d have jumped a thousand times.


I remember we’d stolen away to the bathroom, slipping on tiles, mouths sliding clumsily together.
I love you, Christina.
I just want to be yours. I want to be your girl.
You are.
You have to be brave.
I took his face gently in my hands, and led his gaze to meet mine in the moonlight creeping through the clouded glass.
I believe in you. I BELIEVE in you, Jorge.
More frenzied kissing, sometimes it felt like we’d just fuse together forever, endlessly holding and comforting each other for the rest of eternity. I told him I believed in him, because it was true. Jorge, god damn you. You made me a believer, and then you left me in the wake of a tidal lie.

Another night, davey’s house, we’d snuck down to the garage. Jorge was shushing so seriously, I couldn’t help but giggle. It was a teenaged party wet dream moment, and here he and I were going to go for it. We check the doorknob of car number one. It jiggled, but didn’t give. Car number two, same story. Car number three, the 2 seater convertible bmw, had something to offer that the other’s hadn’t. seat warmers, and the most key of all, unlocked doors. There was more hushed giggling for our mutual conspiracy, even though there would be no one even remotely near earshot. Inside of the car, I straddled him, started kissing every space of skin I could find, nipping at the smooth surface, breathing him in. I can’t stay away from you, I said. I can’t stay away from you, he said. His hand rose up my spine underneath my yellow sweater and I arched my back, both of us with a sharp intake of breath.

Another time. It was 5am. Steena lynn was missing, and in addition to the worry for my friend, something else was missing, too. I needed Jorge, and I needed him right then. I left Lindsay sleeping on my roommate’s bed, and snuck off to call him just as the sun was beginning to rise. I wasn’t surprised, even the least bit, when he answered sounding completely awake, though not entirely alert. I cried softly into the receiver. I would only ask him once. I would ask him to come over. It wouldn’t have to mean anything. We’re through. He’s with nadia.

I laid in bed, we were holding each other’s necks and looking into each other’s eyes, and I couldn’t meet his gaze. I pulled the comforter over our heads and watched the folds settle quietly between in the dawn’s light, and then felt both us moving ever so slightly to lead our lips back together. He stayed for 3 nights. We must’ve watched a thousand movies, and ordered a thousand pizzas, and loved harder than either of us had ever before. On the third night, clothing was finally being shed. There was no sense in fighting it.

Should we stop? I asked, knowing the answer.
No.
Sweat beaded on our brows.

Later, we played a dane cook comedy cd to lighten the mood. We were in love, and he had another girlfriend. We made spaghetti. We laid together still in the dark, until he said he had to go “home”. You’re home, I said. This is home. Don’t you feel it?


These memories play in the movie reel of my mind, over and over without relenting. Us was all I had to rely on. We, in the midst of the drug-addled melee of hedonistic animals, were real and could shelter one another. He was the man to my woman child. There was no force greater than love, until my love was dead. Death slid mercilessly into the number one place, right before my eyes. and now, the shakes that I get in the night, I believe they’re comparable to soul aftershocks. The fault lines in my heart are wider than the grandest canyons.		  
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some days are better than others   
05:03pm 24/06/2006
 
music: omahaT - apes n tapes
I've gotten rid of most everything. you know, the stupid things you hang on to if you're sentimental, or a pack rat, or both. I washed his clothes, I washed the pillowcases that we used to sleep on, I tossed old boxes of cheez its he bought for me, I shoved journals full of movie ticket stubs and letters and documentation of tear stained nights deep into the back of my closet. I have an entire box full of shit that I keep promising myself that I'll toss in the garbage, to clear the air, to allow my life to progress on. some sort of bullshit feng shui theory that I read about. theories and rituals aside, I still think of him nearly every minute of every day, and I miss him and love him and hate him all the same. I can burn every last picture, but it would not change that he is my first love, and he is not alive anymore. one of the last thing he said to me was that he loved me. at least I have that. maybe if that was enough, I could let go.

it was his birthday yesterday. jorge, get me out of this hell hole. get me out of california. I'm so terrified of life without you.

I just keep remembering what aaron told me. "you will wake up every morning and tell yourself it's okay. then one day you'll wake up and it won't be a lie anymore."

lying is so unbelievably exhausting. love can't die, but where does it go when your love is gone? how can you rise from this recurrent rock bottom of pain when you're shackled there? whether right or wrong, doesn't love deserve to live itself out to fruition?		  
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pascal   
02:30pm 13/06/2006
  mind your p's & q's, you may have dried the rain but somebody always gets hurt and it might as well be you. reckless abandon should only really occur in movies, but the motions still seem to fall on the fault lines of hope and forgetfulness, where the land is cracked and dry. here, waiting for forgiveness and rebirth, all the while desperately longing to spread those hungry fingers and place them in the earth to claw back towards some certainty, some safety. oh, child, you should know by now, the city is your home, and a city is not to be trusted. take your toll and keep your mouth shut so you can keep your eyes wide open. the guarantees you took for granted have rained all around your feet and washed you clean of wonder, and left you to fall in love with a mirage. so find something to believe in, find a comfort to wrap your heart in until you don't have to fight so valiantly in order to breathe.  
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pick me up and turn me round   
03:54pm 26/05/2006
  pick a direction, any direction. any direction other than backwards. how does one go about this when the gears are grinding? he's not here to save me from myself, and I'm not trying hard enough.  
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the real city that never sleeps   
01:11am 12/05/2006
 
music: rilo kiley - 85
I have never been so lost, and another birthday is on the horizon. 21 doesn't mean much to me at this point... it's another year that I can't decide if I have wasted. I dove headfirst into a glamorous shark tank, I played russian roulette with my life, I fell in love with a man who is now 6 feet under in the tropics. I was the other woman to her, I was a woman-child to him, and I was trying to make my illusory reality into meaningful madness. it was as if simply surviving the chaos gave me purpose.

friends have all kinds of advice. some blame the city. they view the city as a gaping maw that is eating me alive. to me, it seems so foolish to think that san francisco is the problem. the kind of city that sends a hospital bill adressed to a dead man for 200 dollars for the ambulance ride. leave it to that envelope to drive the point home. nothing like seeing "dead on arrival" next to his name to remind me that he's not coming back. where to go from here? I can't go home... it's not my home anymore. he was my home. all bets are off.

I don't want pity or sage advice. if I hear the term "find god" one more time, I swear, I'll rip every last blonde hair I have off of my confused little head.

alright 21. let's do it. I don't know where he is, but I want him to be proud of me. I'll never forget the night he told me he was, with the most sincere and humbling look in his warm brown eyes. 21. like a hurricane.		  
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love and death   
02:35am 03/05/2006
 
music: neil young - like a hurricane
I miss him! I miss him! I MISS HIM! I miss us, I miss everything, I even miss the fucked up state of affairs in which our relationship existed. I miss waking up in his arms, I miss his laugh, I miss eating cheese and watching nip/tuck in my bed, I miss walking the city streets with our fingers entwined, I miss feeling safe, feeling understood, feeling those days when I couldn't tell where he ended and I began. I miss the days I felt that way, and I didn't care.

I know that I have to pick up and carry on, and I'm doing it as best I can... but the changes I need to make feel like looming impossibilities. my life without jorge-- it's bizarre, jarring, unpredictable.

last weekend I had to go home to sonoma because my grandpa passed out in the garden due to some sort of ulcer-related internal bleeding and fell and broke his face. my mom made it sound like he wasn't going to make it, so I dropped everything and made my way to the country. we were sitting in the hospital, my grandpa and I, and he was telling me what he wanted to do with me for my 21st birthday. just two weeks left. we decided we'd drink a really ridiculously old bottle of wine that would likely give us some fermentation-related disease, and look at old pictures that I've nary seen a trace of from when my nana was growing up in san francisco in the 30's. we were quiet for a moment, and his eyes drifted to my locket, and my mind drifted to jorge (although he's never far from my constant thoughts), and I realized we must have been thinking the same thing. with generations of difference, and a genuine inability to communicate from his end, and a naive and unexperienced perspective as a girl who's barely seen the end of her teens, we were the same. we'd both lost our loves. the letters and the pictures were all we had left, next to silvery memories that grew foggier with every passing day. instances where one who finds the piece that was missing, and holds on to it with all of their might, wakes up one morning to find it gone without any hope of a trace, with a gaping black hole in its place. we were both children in that moment, humbled by feeling so unabashedly lost, but still hopeful of the universe to allow us to thrive. the letting go.

that's the part that crushes me to the core. I don't want to let him go. Death is such an impossible force to resist, but it’s the most powerful force that I know. I’d always hoped that it was true that love would prevail because it couldn’t ever truly die. but here in this cosmic cul-de-sac, I have nothing to believe in. I don't even know where he is. I don't know about souls and afterlives and heavenly deities. I don't know if he's consciously floating around like casper in the next dimension, or if he's checking his myspace from heaven, or if when he died, his energy just exploded into micromolecules and now he is just truly a part of everything. that's how my father explained god to me when I was a new-age yuppie kid.

he'd said, "well, god, is a part of everything." I'd been confused. "everything?" I asked. and he'd furrowed his brow and taken that adult tone with me and replied, "like and energy that lives within everything, living and inanimate, just a pulsing invisible energy that is a part of every beach, every celebrity, every tree, every kitten, every speck of dust. god is the beauty in everything.”

and still, roughly 15 years later, I can’t decide what I believe, and it’s so urgent for me to be able to grasp onto something to believe in. do I convince myself of the catholic values that I was raised with? that jorge is up in heaven right now, smoking a cigar and drinking martinis with my nana, marilyn monroe and albert camus next to god’s throne turning water into porno dvds just for the hell of it, watching their loved ones “down there” on surveillance video feeds? do I believe that jorge is now the invisible energy and beauty in everything in my universe, tangible or imaginary? should I believe in his reincarnation? should I believe that when he is reborn, his energy ceases to be with me in any way, and I am truly robbed of all he meant to me, and that he’s begun a new existence that I probably will never cross paths with again? what is the point of the pain? what was the point of the addictions to substances, and even tragically still, each other?

it just crushes my heart in. it’s this inherently strange, very intense pain, the insurmountable weight and the sadness, and the indignance to fairness, sometimes my chest literally aches and tightens. like my soul is faltering. jorge is gone. I am a woman now, and I am on my own in this journey, not to say that I am so unlucky as to not have people who love me. regardless, now I have to save myself. a very wise girl was speaking to me of my current situation just a few days following his death, who had had her first love die from a heroin overdose when she was 17, and she told me that she knew that I felt as if it was too hard of a lesson to have to learn. she’d said that anyone would want to have learned that lesson over decades and decades of time as opposed to such a blow in the blooming of your youth. but sometimes, when you get pushed off of a cliff, you have to learn to fly. I remember having stared at her. can I fly? will I fly or will I fall?

he would have said, “fly.”		  
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the music and the misery   
02:53pm 26/01/2006
  down for the count, rhyme without reason, glass houses in a ghost town. can't pick myself up and I can't decide whether I hate you more than I hate myself. the drugs don't work, I can hardly write, and the free alcohol just provides me with corresponding free hangovers. leaving isn't an option, but neither is staying and it finds me wishing my hands were tied so there might be an excuse. I've been derailed for months, dwelling in the crash site, sifting through the rubble for clues that will explain which mistakes led me here. last night I held my knees as I sobbed, and I caught sight of a strip of photobooth pictures of my parents and I from 1987. that little girl should never have strayed so far from herself. that little girl doesn't deserve what I've done to her. even then, you can see the hope in her eyes, as if she knew someday she'd need to hold on.  
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when the sky is red.   
12:06am 24/11/2005
  what are we? bruises left on collarbones from haphazard kisses. a lady is kept in waiting and a man bolsters his armor.

showing improvement but still hissing precautionary measures through our teeth for some greater good. (there has to be one.) there always is.

a line must be clearly drawn, but the page is still drying. the definition that we need can not be gained from a language never translated from sanskrit. and love;

it's not so sure, anymore, and we both blame me. that summer left us gazing into the bottom of a bottle rather than each other's distrustful eyes. I saw a sunset in yours, once. all I see is fear, now, and my reassuring tug of war only seems to push your heart further out of reach.

it's not right to dismiss these puzzle pieces. no one should devalue moments deemed priceless by faithless romantics, clawing towards conviction. still, I am so lost to find direction when the compass can't stop spinning, and we are nowhere. let's avert the opposition. ---let's run.		  
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I'm not sure.   
04:12pm 16/09/2005
  I'm coming to the terms and turning them down once again. I'll never be his echo star. if only he would stay an apparition instead of materializing at the most inopportune moments. (as if it's ever ideal...)


but, we're going to have to co-exist, now. we're going to let each other down, and we're going to fuck up, and we're going to have good intentions that may as well have been smoke in the wind.


meaning well. it's foreign to him, and gospel to me.

  
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letter to ferdinand the bull   
07:48pm 05/08/2005
 
music: a distorted reality is now a necessity to be free
so, it's been a year now. a year since I traipsed into this city with no expectations but to leave my heart. to become hopelessly enamoured with san francisco was even more predictable than I expected, and to continue growing up here amongst charming strangers never seems to lose its novelty. these fast times we're drawn to are thrilling adventures in trial and error. it can be difficult for a girl to keep her head, but I always manage. I managed to keep it from you.

last year when we met, I felt like my snowglobe existance that had been sitting so stagnant and still was given a much needed hearty shake. I revelled in that flurry of excitement, change, and this, your unique brand of hedonism. once the dust settled, the path was clear and paved. I was armed with the kind of ambition and bravery that can only truly come from being 19 and knowing everything. and now, here I am, sitting in my flat in my salmon pink victorian, within walking distance of anything I could ever want or need. (you were right. what's the point? what else is there?)

I know our relationship hasn't always been a bowl of cherries, but I still tend to look at it through the rosiest of colored glasses. as much as I hold steadfastly to the idea of invincibility and self-sufficiency, it's nice to have someone thinking of your best interests, even from afar. sometimes I'd like to think that it transcends the surface intricacies of human interaction. that way I wouldn't even have to hope that it was ever in question that I hold you in the highest regards. that quietly, we know that in a perfect world, we'd fit.

that said, meeting you was a fortunate simple twist of fate, and with any luck we'll get to continue to watch our worlds evolve and unfurl. even from afar. hearts miles apart in a glitter filled sandbox.		  
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yellow light   
10:01pm 27/07/2005
  after the fallout, I'm easing towards normalcy despite having shrapnel embedded in so many of my secret longings. this new boy, this man, he'd better be expertly skilled in stripping defenses.  
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it's sugar for sugar and salt for salt   
03:20am 26/07/2005
 
music: joan baez - in the quiet morning
his head was perpetually full of lilting abstract thoughts that lit up his haunting green eyes as they poured out one by one. she always absorbed them cautiously, collecting them like precious gem to keep in her jewelry box heart. together they were obviously mis-matched, but fate had meddled their paths into crossing. a scientist and a poet, a drunk and a debutante, a lost cause fraternizing with the light at the end of the tunnel. she tasted like candied damaged goods and he'd always had a penchant for unconditional love he could hold at arm's length. for two years they made a living of old no. 7 lies and backwards synergy. and when she finally came to, she was back at the starting line, just a little worse for the wear.

a creature of habit and hope.		  
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july: in love   
12:26pm 09/07/2005
 
music: cat power - metal heart
woke up this morning at 3:30 am with a load on my mind to a familiar but unwelcome throbbing pain in the right side of my face. at this point, the agitation of my tender, rotting tooth is unprompted, and by this I feel mildly injusticed. nevermind the fact that I've allowed it to get this bad after 3 weeks of looking askance at my dentist's business card and shoving it deeper into the recesses of the accumulating pile of bills I've yet to pay and probably won't be able to afford any time soon.

shuffling my do-it-yourself pink pedicured toes into my fuzzy slippers, I wander down the hallway towards the kitchen. I'm half hoping to run into one of my roommates as it is, after all, friday night, but I am only greeted by the sound of one of them snoring bouncing off of the perilously slippery hardwood floors. (when eve's nerves get rattled, she cleans compulsively, so I'm guessing that it's been a particularly rough week. my nervous habits are decidedly less productive, eg. smoking, pontificating, chewing up my nails.)

without bothering with the lights, I peer into the fridge hopefully. I haven't been to the store in weeks, but I'm crossing my fingers for good fortune. my sleepy eyes peruse the slim options... shriveling cherry tomatoes, buttermilk bread, rice milk, mystery leftovers in gladware and two cans of sprite. when I reach for the soda I can't help but feel smug and stupid simultaneously. "yeah, toothache, I'll show YOU!

back in my room, I throw moon pix in my blue boom box and pop the tab of my debatably poor choice in beverage and wash down 3 advil. I'm wishing they were vicodin, but the last of my reserves were used on a slight headache out of boredom. (oops)

some three hours, one book, and countless twilight text messages later, it's becoming apparent that to continue on this night's path of slumber is an exercise in futility. feeling strangely ambitious, I reason that as this is san francisco, there must be hordes of cafes just waiting for an insomniac like myself to raid them just as the sun rises. think of all the bored baristas at their counters, disinterestedly poking at pastries, longing for someone to wander in so they can sling a mocha, already. shit, I'd better get going!

by 7:04 am I'm out the door, armed with a journal, cigarettes and pure, unadulterated wanderlust. I've actually got a destination in mind, a certain nook called Muse that has been recommended to me. it is supposedly on 9th and fulton, which is easy enough to navigate to as the ..5 muni goes right past and its stop is only 3 blocks from my apartment. I'm mildly surprised at the foggy mist that greets me as I round the corner of fillmore, but I already know that city summer weather has a schizophrenic mind of its own. I consider turning back to get a more substantial jacket, but laziness gets the best of me. nothing can hinder the course of my mission now.

hurrying across mccallister to the shelter of the hooded bus stop, I notice who I'm sharing it with. sitting already on the swinging stools are three women. two of them are chattering back and forth in what sounds vaguely like portuguese, and the other one, looking very elderly and undeniably vexed, is staring into space. she's got a face like a giant, ancient sweet potato that's been rolled through gravel like a bowling ball for a hundred years. I get the feeling this woman has seen a lot, and as our eyes meet for a moment, she purses her lips curiously. I smile because I honestly can't tell if she's saying "hello" or "fuck you". with the old ladies in chinatown you can almost always tell. and it's almost always "fuck you".

I depart the bus a block early at 8th street, just to make sure I won't have to backtrack to find the place. about 20 yards later I slide my aviators onto my nose to shield my face from the mist that is quickly becoming something better classified as a weak drizzle. by the time I reach 12th street, I stop and do an about face. the only thing I've seen other than houses for 4 blocks is an abandoned dry cleaning business with busted out and boarded up windows. damn.

with the determination and bravery of magellan, I decide I'll do a sweep of the entire neighborhood. I hope it'll be worth it. I imagine a veritable caffeine oasis, like an arabian nights themed budoir, with brightly colored silk pillows everywhere and flourising fern plants in every corner. yeah, this place is definitely worth the cold I'm going to catch. worth it for sure.

ten minutes later (I never claimed to be patient) I stop to take out my cell phone to call 411 to get the address of this very elusive coffee shop. nothing can stop me once I have an address! nothing save for the fact that there is no listing for muse cafe. or muse coffee. or just plain muse. now I'm pissed.

shivering as I begin my sweep of the next block for lack of a better idea, I see a man standing on his front porch in a bathrobe, presumably out there to fetch the chronicle to read about the terrorist attacks in london. or maybe he's more of a sports page guy. at this point, I don't care. I just want to know where a girl can get a godforsaken cup of coffee and some shelter out in the avenues. when I stop to ask he seems a little bewildered at human contact before 10 am but obliges by muttering something about geary st. and pointing in its general direction. I thank him and continue on, slightly dismayed that my coffee shop expedition had gone so awry.

on the walk I try and distract myself from the strip mall-esque environment I know I'm walking towards. I notice that the alleys over here contain overgrown secret gardens behind wrought iron fences rather than crackheads. I would even go so far as to call the sunset charming, with its home-making people and their teal green hyundais and their small, yappy dogs. by the time I make it to the main drag, my jacket is glistening with dew, and between jack in the box and the evergreen mortuary, I find the coffee break. I know before even reaching the window that it will be a dingy commuter pit stop with an aquarium and louder-than-necessary smooth jazz, but I'm desperate.

when I cross the threshold of the door my ears are immediately assaulted by the mid-nineties top 40 inspirational hit "you gotta be" by desir'ee. I can't help but smile, but it doesn't last long because an insistent jolt of pain shoots through my jaw. a very chipper young girl takes my order for a poppyseed bagel and a large coffee and her butterfly barrettes twinkle reassuringly. it may not be the java casbah I envisioned originally, but at least this place had loveseats.

sipping on my coffee tentatively, I'm careful to swish it over to the left side of my mouth while trying not to pay much attention to the stale taste. the sun is really starting to shine now, so lindsay will be up soon and we can resume the search together. good morning.		  
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never been a pill or sin I couldn't swallow   
04:40pm 19/06/2005
 
music: elliott smith - coast to coast
the heat rises from the black tar pavement in the city, ripples in the air jostled by the breeze from the bay. I've been waiting patiently. waiting by the phone, waiting for a cause, waiting for a muse, waiting for my man. perhaps the time is ripe for moving mountains, but I am guilty and hesitant, and subsequently stuck. my feet are planted firmly for a stand in fighting change; to waver in another direction could shake the stars from my eyes. it's got to stay this way for a while. everything is new.		  
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birthday.   
03:33pm 03/05/2005
 
music: velvet teen - four story tantrum
12 days left, though I left 19 behind me months ago. these days I wake alone to skyscrapers and crisp spring air, and I haven't ever been this content. my idealism won't get the best of me, anymore.
it's all paper dolls and smoke screens in this city, but I love it so. I'm free.		  
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fugitives, dandelions, femme fatales   
03:11pm 09/03/2005
 
music: death cab for cutie - song for kelly huckaby
it came on the wrong side of 6am, a liberating revelation. as far as what remains of choice, letting go is the only. it's beginning to seem that I only hold on so dearly to those that I never had to begin with.		  
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moon and tide   
03:14pm 05/03/2005
 
music: sigur ros - untitled 3
at 3am I silently climbed into the bed, smelling like sweet rose water and smoke. I touched my lips up to his cheek twice, watching the corners of his mouth turn up even before his eyes opened. "not a dream", I whispered, while he pulled me close to rain eager sleepy kisses across my collarbone, reading my skin with his fingertips like a relief map. I wished to fend off morning for years, but the spell was predictably broken before the light spilled across tangled limbs and strewn clothes. all acts of reckless abandon are not created equal.		  
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