Stuck in the middle with you

I love to stare at people. It puts them in a difficult, uncomfortable place in the world surrounding them. Everyone is aware of the presence of another. Sometimes you glance their way; sometimes you double glance; sometimes you stare. You stare to consume and grasp as much information as possible. You see, read, learn, and analyze every detail. You seek knowledge in their eyes, their lips, their demeanor, their body movements, and anything that gives off an indication of information. Last night, I glanced at you. I couldn't look into your brown sensitive eyes. I knew of your wrongdoing; I could see it with my own two. You didn't even want to look at my own two. You squinted your eyes smaller, so we can all seem like a blur. The sight of smoke rose from your denim jacket, like smoke rising from a hot flame in the beginning of January. It was January and you were burning like a hot flame as we stood beside each other saying our goodbyes. "Ya, you're leaving?" brown eyes asked. "Yeah, I've got to go. School starts next week, ya," brown eyes replied. It was my decision to come this late at night. My glance turned into a double glance. I was waiting for the right moment in time and in conversation to make my exit. Brown eyes wasn't on my level. I should've stopped by while the sun was still out. It would only have helped my odds out. I could've left on a good note; I could've left with a genuine smile. I left and smiled, but the smile wasn't for me. It was for someone stronger than me who never saw moments like these. It was for her, glowing in her angelic bliss. She loved me, but she didn't know. She couldn't understand why the pins were piercing my aorta. She could never tell in those two brown sensitive eyes. When I smiled, I made sure you saw it. I had to force it because it hurt. Now, I was staring. "See you in a while crocidile" another brown eyes called out as the door shut. Still I'm consuming every detail, watching every final step, and analyzing every movement of our last goodbye. The words you stumbled to articulate. The riddles you failed to share. The savvy you failed to attain. It hurt, but it felt good to see that it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. It was good to see you like so. It was the best thing I could ever see. My pain is my power. It puts power where you wish it hadn't. It puts faith in me that you won't see but you will feel when you glance into my brown eyes. So, brown eyes don't be afraid of my own two. My own two feel and see pain just like you. If my brown eyes don't bring you comfort, gain comfort in the other brown eyes that said goodbye to you. He'll work miracles sooner or later, Aligator. 

Working Saturdays

Working Saturdays are the worst. I usually wake up an hour before I have to go in, groggy and out-of-it from the night before. I drag my ass from my bedroom to the shower, to the sink, to my closet, to the fridge, to the front door of my apartment. It is all familiar; it is nearly all the same each week. Now it has become routine. Every Saturday I have to go in midday and close at 6 p.m. Every Saturday I have to see her. She sits diagonally from me. She is a sweet, nice, small young woman. From time to time, I'll see her peak over her computer and look towards the front desk. These two are best friends. She loves her friend very much. They look out for each other. Every Saturday in my time of solitude, I see her on her computer. I can't help but know she is there somehow connected to her friend in some sort of way. It scratches me like a scratch to  an open flesh wound. It hurts, and then hurts some more. I'm trying all I can to detach, move-on, forget, and then I see her. I see you with her on the second day I met you. I see her friend and you walking around downtown Ann Arbor checking out the scene. I see that crazy sunset on top of that parking garage. I see you walking in the library with a friend, and I knew somehow someway someday I was going to hang out with you. I see you freely found your way to me to speak to me for a while; i liked that. I see you inviting me out to downtown Ann Arbor with her after work. I see me and you waiting for her to come outside of the library while you chatted with another friend of yours. I didn't mind. I was happy to be with you in that perfect moment. You smiled and laughed. You were radiant in the final days of summer. Every weekend when I work my Saturday shift, I see her and think of you. I think of you wanting to watch a movie. I think of you telling me all you know about your yoga. I think of you spending the night. Now that you're gone, I can't stop thinking about you entirely. You are in my daydreams, my happy places, and my fondest recent memories. You are in my breath, my blink of an eye, my smirk of a smile, and in my gaze of deep thought. There was once a time where I enjoyed working Saturdays. I enjoyed working Saturdays when I would get off work and go see you. I enjoyed racing through campus just to get to see you  Saturdays. Now I just don't know what to do with myself. Maybe I'll switch shifts for next semester. Maybe one Saturday these memories will fade.

lovesick

wasting time, doing everything but what needs to be done, same feeling as it was before I slept, insanely wondering what she does, unable to concentrate on my life, disappointingly remembering my fuck-ups, detached from the world around me, desperately seeking for a new day/a new thought, anything to keep me away from these blues. but, here I am just a fool. who am I to think I had one moment of greatness within me to make wrongs right? So, I drench that bridge. I soak it with gasoline. I make sure every thread, every fiber swims in gasoline. I, then, blowtorch it to ash and walk away.

Closely beyond reach

she smells of heavenly sweetness. when we touch accidentally, my nerves start up. my senses rise the hairs on the back of my neck. my nose flares up with attentiveness. my eyes dilate like a druggie. my heart pumps hysterically out of control. "make the move" yells my heart. "don't, you know better" whispers my brain. she sits waiting for me to quit my stalling. I talk about everything and anything. She politely responds. I'm dying from the inside. the room instantly gets warmer. I'm torn. why must I do this to myself? I finally get the courage to announce my departure. it's late. it's been late. I slowly gather my belongings. I politely thank her for her time. I stroll to the door waiting for something, anything. nothing. my heart sinks. why must I ponder like I do? I think too much without action. sometimes I act without thinking; that's when i'm really screwed. I reach for the door knob, turn it, and exit smiling. She shrugs her shoulders signaling me to hug her. I do. I hold on for too long. I say things that shouldn't be said. she pushes me away playfully? She smiles. hiding my anxiety, I smile. the door closes. I melt.

Move it

Get up off that thang. Mind over everything. Will over slumber. Perseverance over comfort.
Find your something. Motivate your complacent thoughts. Nothing is left to hold you back.
Look for it. Pull through. I'm rooting for you. Come out of the dark. Hustle some more.

Jammed finger

I reach out to touch the sensation I get when my palm touches your skin.
The way your eyes comfort mine when I have nothing to say still lingers in my memory as if I could remember the past.
The smokey pictures I have of you tight within my grasp will soon fade away with the breeze.
She has the power to help you. You choose not to ask.
You stay content with your life. You stay trapped in your thoughts, your lies, and your "why's".
Wake up, sober up, sit upright. Shouldn't your time be now? Shouldn't you want to change?
Don't you think you need it? Don't you think you've caused enough harm?
Don't you care as much as you say you do? Do it for you. Do it for your well-being.
Do it already. What are you waiting for? You want to be on the straight and narrow, but you can't. You're jammed. You're permanently un-fix-able. ...right? Wrong.

Don't

 Speak, talk into my ear. Listen to my whispers, as you said you liked.
Hear the high pitch in my voice, the crackin' of my voice struggling to stay composed through whisper.
Stay with me tonight for old times sake. Like you did that second night.
Come hear the rain pour down beside me as we watch the leaves scream for joy.
Sit, stay and watch the hairs on our luscious locks grow oily and longer together.
Let's enjoy time running away from us, the stress melting from our hugs, and sadness hiding from our endless lovely kisses.
Smile with me as we stare into each others eyes without a thought in our mind, nor a doubt, nor a whine.
Laugh with me as I try to make you laugh, but miserably fail with comedic timing.
Dance with me to our own tune and our own groove, like it's just you and me in this world, no one else.
Look away when we go our separate ways, for I'd hate to see you go but love to watch you leave.
Rest your head on my shoulders just like you once did and give me one last soft kiss.