Thursday, April 25, 2013

Things I Like.

 Things I Really, Really, Really Like:

-The smell of lavender and sage.
-Empty airports and stadiums and campuses.
-This American Life radio show.
-Ice skating.
-Funnel cakes, burritos, cheese pizza, funeral potatoes, mango-cucumber salsa, fish 'n chips.
-100 N., Provo.
-Vintage dresses.
-The 7th inning stretch.
-Horseback riding.
-Pique turns in ballet.
-Words so stunning that I have to whisper them so I can feel them on my lips.
-Main Street, U.S.A.
-Strawberry-limeade-and-onion-ring Saturdays in the summer.

These are my best of the best.
These are more than my simple "likes."

I do not look to fill my life with these things.
Lavender is more beautiful when it's an unexpected scent.
Strawberry limeades taste so good because they don't come around often.
Most dance through my life unexpectedly, and I love that.

These things are what make the sunshine golden.
These things are my glass of cold water, my cozy fireplace, my beach.
These things are what make me turn my face up to the sky and breathe.


Monday, April 15, 2013

Grief is my muse. Which is kind of unfortunate.
Grey skies rain down poems and I open my mouth to swallow their impossible possibilities.

Dreams lost and hearts broken and people abandoned weave my stories and create a cocoon for me to cuddle inside, waiting for the dreaded Uncertain to arrive.
I guess it's because those things carry a profound emotion that I can communicate only through symbols that take the place of my blinking cursor.

So the saddest story in the world is when I see the blink-blink-blink and my screen stays white.
Because I find no beauty in an empty heart.

An empty airport is full of ghosts and echoes and countless scuff marks.
An empty book is full of potential and future mistakes and limitless hope.
An empty heart is empty.

But when I pour out my grief my words fall along with it.
Is this why there are so many tortured artists?
How come joy remains silent?

Pain demands to be felt and grief demands to be heard.

I traded my words for happiness.
I don't regret that choice, but I miss the sound of heartbreak.