things i’d rather be doing

Slow dancing in his kitchen (or at the bowling alley) (or at a bar)

Playing cards in the airport waiting for a flight to Paris (or to Panama) (or even back home)

Walking through museums in San Francisco talking about art (or what we want for dinner) (or if we can just stay forever)

Laying in the sun next to each other in Manhattan Beach (or in Redondo) (or in Torrance)

Sitting on his bed after a party talking about how my friend started crying (or about how the world is so big) (or about his future I’m not in)

Eating frozen yogurt on the curb talking about our days (or about how we don’t hangout as much) (or about how he misses seeing me)

Standing in the pews at church humming to the music (or laughing at the pastor‘s lame jokes) (or pretending like I’m not journaling about him)

Sitting in his roommates car talking about his post grad plans (or the best sushi restaurants in LA) (or my favorite SNL skits)

Visiting him at work pretending I had a real reason to be there (or pretending I have a question for him) (or admitting I just wanted to say hi)

Hanging out at his house watching him make a quesadilla (or working on a puzzle) (or throwing a rugby ball around)

In his passenger seat driving home from a bar on a Thursday night talking about drinking (or his DJ set) (or about how we should run into the ocean)

I’d rather be doing quite a few things

But I’d rather be doing all of them with him

Us in four springs

I love it when it starts to get warm again after the winter fades away, when I don’t have to put on multiple layers when I go to class, & when I can start wearing dresses again. I love it when the flowers start to bloom, when my bedroom windows can stay open all night long, & when I can watch the sunset from the sandy beaches without getting miserably chilly. I love the cotton candy skies, laying in the sun, & when the green tea lemonade cravings come. I love the spring.

I met him in the spring. I remember when I first saw him; it was like hearing my favorite song for the first time. I didn’t know why, but for whatever reason, he already felt important to me. An instant familiarity I had never felt before. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but I just knew.

By the next spring, I loved him. I found myself constantly in awe of him & who I knew him to be. He shared his heart with me & I knew it was in all the right places—he promised me a life I had only dreamed of. Sometimes while he would play sweet melodies on his guitar, I would find myself gazing at him longing for something deeper. & eventually when his eyes met mine, like they always did, I felt heaven. It always felt like heaven with him.

But by the spring after that, I didn’t want to love him anymore. Heaven slowly, but surely started to feel like hell & even though I loved him every season between every spring, he gave me a lot of reasons not to. I got so tired that holding on got too hard; my grip started loosening & I could feel him slipping through my fingers. & as scared as I was to let him go, I found myself incapable of holding on anymore.

It’s spring again & don’t love him anymore. But I do think about him sometimes; usually just in passing. Like when I hear that one Moose Blood song or when my friends talk about moving to the same city he lives in now. I rarely find myself longing for him at all. If anything I find myself with an innocent curiosity. Sometimes I wonder if he’s doing okay or if he ever thinks of me, too.

I don’t love him anymore, but I can’t help but think of him when I think of spring & I do love the spring

Parallel Train tracks

We were parallel train tracks. Always found ourselves side by side. I didn’t understand how no matter where I went—it always seemed to be with you. We were always close, always together, but always a little separated. Close enough to touch, but too far to hold.

We were parallel train tracks. Every time I looked over at you & felt discouraged by the space that kept us apart, I looked down our paths & saw clearly where we met in the distance. Whenever I expressed doubt, you’d point ahead & assure me how we’d converge eventually. I always looked forward to the day we’d finally come together.

We were parallel train tracks & I thought that was beautiful—I loved being parallel to you. I loved it when people would tell me how poetic our journey was, how lucky I was to be next to you. I loved the possibility, the promises, the thought of you & me. I loved the companionship & how I knew I could always count on you to be by my side.

We were parallel train tracks. The further we traveled & the closer we got to the end, our paths always seemed to open up to yet another distant point. The longer we went, the longer & more drawn out, confusing, & uncertain our journey started to feel. I constantly found myself holding out for the intersection the distance was promising us; I could still see us coming together.

We were parallel train tracks. One day you looked at me & I looked at you, & for the first time, it didn’t feel right. The scenery around us had changed. I looked at you & recognized how you’re on a path I’m not a part of. How we would not cross, how we would not meet in the distance. We were side by side holding on to a distant point without ever fully knowing if we’d get there. When I looked at you that day, I realized we’d never get there.

We were parallel train tracks & for a long time, that was all I wanted.

But now we go in completely different directions.

& I like it better this way.

or twice

you fell asleep in my car once / (or twice) / driving back to school from my parents house. / I never take boys home, / but I did take you.

I drove as quietly as I could / from the mountains, through downtown, towards the ocean / & didn’t say a thing / so I wouldn’t wake you

I don’t remember anything I thought about / or anything I felt / other than how lucky I was / to be cared for by you