I love to see a smile on your eyes,
knowing that just for a moment,
the pain of the whole universe
does not linger.
You know, two years is 10 percent of the time I’ve spent on this earth, and this cornfield is a boring, lonely place. Nothing reminds me of how much I need a change of pace, but sometimes we can’t march to our own beats. Its like my feet are broken, the connection between my toes and my brain has been cut so now I step left on 1 and 3, like everyone expects of me.
Because that’s what I did for two years. Two whole years. And that’s what I expect of me too. I hate it. I loath, despise, deprecate the sobbing sack of pity and desolation I have become.When did I stop looking at the bigger picture? When did the cracks in the mirror become me? I hardly recognize myself anymore. The girl I was six months ago would spit in my direction.
“Don’t you know, girl? There is so much more to life, to the human experience. Why the hell are you wasting it crying and doing what others tell you?”
What happened to that rebel spirit?
“Honey, that’s not you. And it sure as hell will never be me.”
But the question still begs:
Why should I be concerned with me, when there are such bigger things? What am I doing here, when I could be there?
I never thought I would say this, but after coming home, I missed things I never noticed before leaving for Akron. I adore the city, but some things, things I hold very dearly, simply do not exist elsewhere. The canons from birds that greet me when I drink my morning cup of coffee or the sparkling stars aflame in the sky, among a bright luscious moon that tries to hide behind towering oak trees every night.
Hell, event he coffee itself tastes different, tasting more robust and an dark-bodied, as though to say, “Yes, ma’am, I am a hard working American; I’ve worked for everything I’ve ever earned and don’t stop ’til the job is done, even if I lose a finger (a minor inconvenience at best, for this breed)”, as opposed to the much more rich and flavorful, practically gourmet, status-revealing coffee ever so present in the city. The people here have forged bonds and community so prevalent, it’s almost tangible. Bonds created by more than proximity, bonds created by family, understanding of one another, and a sense of duty toward fellow men. As much as I love the challenge of becoming more than just a face in the crowd, it never hurts to visit a place where everybody knows your name.
When I recall the bruises
and the taste of your lips,
my body tingles in the
most delicious ways.
The dirty things we could have done
slink through my thoughts
like the serpents of temptation
in the Garden of Eden.
Lost opportunities leave me wondering, “Why?”
Why do we reserve ourselves
when our impulses are animalistic, at best?
For I shall love none other
the way I loved you.
And who knows what is to come?