Things I Write in Psych #2

This page is dedicated to the potential that exists between us. We could potentially make something like a friendship work, even grow. Yet there is no possibility. The difference is that potential exists because of facts, because of the things that have come before. Possibility is awakened when carefully formulated from potential, adding your desire, my willingness, and an absurd amount of patience.

Things I Write in Psych #1

I'm taking a psychology class this term: Psychology of Intimate and Family Relationships. It is a really interesting class, and for some reason, I write a lot of free-writes during lecture. I thought that I'd start posting some excerpts from those free-writes.

Don't give me flowers; give me words of sincerity. I write in cursive for you because the casualty of the printed word does not fit into the flowing desire to know more of you. Yesterday you surprised me, and that doesn't happen often. Understand me. Question my motives. I have layers... like an onion. That's not attractive, but it is the humanity of me. Forgive my mental stalking. I cannot get away from my thoughts... you are a plague.

Stiff Shoulders and My Hands

My hands are basins.
your shoulders are cliffs
that scream for me to stay away.

I don't cry into pillows.
I shamefully catch each drop
that slips out and triumphantly
throw it away.

Sometimes I smile right
afterwards and you are supposed
to know, but don't.

My hands were made

specifically to catch tears because 

your shoulders are not so reliable.

Time

Too many ideas, not enough time. An extra hour should be added to my day specifically so that I can blog.

Negative Change (Less of a poem, more of a freewrite)

And the things you say I do not recognize.
I almost apologize. But I'm halted with
the realization that I am not wrong.

You are a withering plant.
Why did you change?

(I feel guilty for remaining secure).

Over-thinking It

You make me remember my dreams.
Even in the sunshine, you abide in them.
This is what makes me smile
when I'm tired, even sleeping
until my imagination alters.

Yesterday, I awoke too soon
and when I returned you were
changed. Awake, I comprehended
again that I am missing
more than unfettered sleep, but consistency.

School has Begun

And it is quite obvious by my lack of blogging.

It may interest you to know that I'm in the middle of reading Walt Whitman's Song of Myself for my American Lit class. That being said, wish me luck.

2011 Is When I Say Hello

There are two things which I
had forgotten: no one can force
me to wave goodbye. I cannot
be baby fed the flavors of happiness.
One day, I will say "hello"
to your smile, a thing to savor.
This single exchange of self
will be the essence of our
serenity as we inhale, exhale.