You

You made me feel whole.

You made me feel wanted.

You made me smile and laugh,

I was unafraid to cry,

But rarely needed to.

You helped me fix the problem

Or let me ponder the problem first

You were my right hand man

My partner in crime

I wouldn’t ask for anyone else.

Couldn’t ask for anyone else.

Because who could fill my heart so completely,

To the point where it was spilling out all over you?

With Enough Tape

Everyone has told me

So many times

That I will be able to get over love

That with enough tape

I will be able to clean up this broken heart.

But I think it’s the opposite

I think with enough tape

You can pretend to be normal

With enough tape

You can paint over the holes in the wall

With enough tape

Someone else can love you

But loving them back is impossible

Because you always have cracks where the loves leaks out

And disappears

10. Interlocked hands, snow angels, a deck of cards

SO, we have come to a close, we are at the end. Actually no, I think I’ll continue this for the rest of the summer. So don’t freak out man. I’ll still be here. In the meantime enjoy…

 

“Okay so if I have like, these ones, do I win?” He asks, I arch a brow.

“You don’t know how to play poker?” I scoff. His face goes bright red. “Also, I can’t tell unless you show me your cards.”

“Not really,” He shrugs, “And honestly, I think one of these is an uno card but I haven’t said anything because I thought it was apart of the game…”

“Oh…. my… gosh,” I start laughing, doubling over. “You don’t know how to play poker, you idiot.”

“Okay, I feel like that’s a little harsh, I just never learned,” He looks at me, his lips pursed together.

“But you never told me that, how many games have we played, how much money have you lost?” I giggle. “You prideful little brat.”

“Shut up Ellis,” He sighs, rubbing his hands together, “Whose idea was it to play outside?”

“Yours?” I point out. He face falls.

“I hate you,” He gets up, “I’m done with poker.”

“Phoenix!” I yell, getting up. My shoes catching on the table leg. I trip and go sprawling into the snow. He runs over to me, his face full of concern.

“You okay?” He asks, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. I pull him down into the snow. He cusses me out. I giggle again and hold tight to his hand. They’re rough, like sandpaper. “I still hate you, you know that right?”

“No, you love me,” I sigh, “Do you not know how to do snow angels too?”

“No, I have no clue what that is,” He says dryly. I kiss his cheek and scoot a little bit father away from him. My hand still wrapped around his, I kick my legs out and my hands over my head. The snow soak through my jeans and soon I’m shivering but it’s worth it. Because Phoenix joins in after a while and we make a wonderful snow angel. And he has  wonderful smile.

I gave you

I gave you my affection

And you let the flames of my love reflect in those wonderful deep eyes.

I gave you my heart

And you made a little origami crane with it,

letting it fly away into the dangerous waters of passion

it would’ve been lovely, except you watched it sink and now I feel nothing but pain.

I gave you my promise

And you gave me yours,

expect my promises mean everything and yours

yours mean nothing.

I gave you my belief

And you returned it with doubt,

You let my belief die with my heart.

And I’ve finally got it through my head,

I finally understand that,

You’ll never return anything that I,

Give,

Sacrifice,

And spare.

Because I gave you my soul

And you gave me an empty house with a thick layer of dust.

9. Cinnamon, a welcome sign, a well-worn leather jacket

Ahh, we’re getting to the end of this!! What is this witch craft, prompts ending? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Anyway, enjoy today’s post because apparently they don’t last for ever. Ridiculous.

9. Cinnamon, a welcome sign, a well-worn leather jacket

 

I tug my leather jacket on and slam the door of my car. It creaks back open. I let out a groan. I really do not have time for this. I slam it shut again, cussing when it open again. Does the door really need to shut on a car? Not like I own anything important to leave in there. I position the door so it looks kinda closed and call it good. I grab my backpack by the one remaining strap and jog into the coffee shop. 

My sister is working on the welcome sign. She always does some crazy intense drawing on it, this time it’s a man climbing a snowy mountain. I don’t know how she puts so much detail in it because it’s pretty small. 

“You could be doing a lot more than welcome signs Legend,” I say, walking next to her. She adds another white streak. 

“We’re so not doing this again,” She rolls her eyes, picking up the blue piece of chalk. She adds color to the man’s parka. “I’m actually entirely happy right now.”

“C’mon, just one semester,” I say, walking behind the counter. Her wire rimmed glasses catch the light of the Edison bulbs hanging over head. I grab a cup and pour myself coffee. “Think about what you could learn in one semester.”

“I could learn everything that you’ve already taught me,” I cock my head, what does that mean? “I could learn that I would rather be working at a coffee shop, sharing an apartment with my best friend than be drowning in student loans and driving a car whose door that does not close just so I could learn to use a pencil. Which, by the way, is something I already know how to do.” 

“Alright, geez,” I sigh, “I’m just confused, what are you going to do with the rest of your life?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” She shrugs, “I’m fine with this being my whole life honestly.” 

She takes the cup from me and frowns at it. She grabs the cinnamon from the counter and the white cream from the fridge. Then she grabs some other flavorings and milk. She mixes everything together and steps back when she’s done. I grab my new and improved drink and take a sip. It’s way better now. 

“Thanks,” I nod.

“If I went to college would I be able to that?” She asks, her face too cocky for my taste. 

“Probably, you would work part-time here either way,” I murmur. She rolls her eyes. 

“I’ll make you pay for that,” She raises a brow. 

 

 

“Okay fine, I’ll drop it,” I sigh, taking another sip. She’s ridiculous. 

8. French Pastries, a blue suit, a record player

“Oh my gosh,” I stifle a laugh. It comes out as a snort, “You look like Willy Wonka.”

“Shut up,” He hisses.

“But… you’re blue.” I wipe tears from my eyes. I put on a high pitched distressed voice, “Violet you’re turning violet!”

“Look, this was the only thing they had,” He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. If,” I take a deep breath, “If you call me Steve.”

“Steve?” He raises a brow. His face contorts with realization when he gets it, “No. I’m not calling you that. You’re name is Legend, nothing else.”

“C’mon, it’ll be hilarious. I can call you blue like from-“

He shakes his head. “Let’s just go.”

“Blue is very becoming on you,” I straighten his tie and we go out. I wear a nice simple dress. It’s loose and black and flows around me. I kinda look like a queen while he… he looks like a berry.

“Yea well at least my clothes don’t reflect the color of my soul,” He mutters as he locks the door of the house.

“One must not treat a lady like so,” I say with dramatic hand gesture.

“One must be open to hearing the truth, even if it hurts,” He winks in my direction. I huff in mock anger.

We walk to the mall. People look at us. We pretend to be movie stars. We were gonna have friends be our body guards but for some crazy reason, it was lame excuse day.

“Oh Roan, look at all these petty people, I haven’t been among the common man in so long,” I sigh dramatically and looks out at the imaginary crowd. There’s like only 10 people within sight.

“Neither have I love, so strange, oh look,” He points out someone at the ice cream store, “That one’s using cash. How quaint.”

“Thank god you wore this suit, otherwise no one would know who you are.” I poke him in the ribs. He bumps me with his elbow.

My apologies, I did not see you there,” He says, poking me back. It goes on for a while, us making fun of everyone.

We finally get tired and go to a coffee store. We order croissants and pay with cash. He sits down at the table and I join him. The lady walks the pastries over and does a double take when she sees Roan. It takes a lot for me not to laugh. He looks awful. A light blue suit and his long curls going everywhere. He’s still handsome but not anyone I would want to be seen with. Well, if I wasn’t dating him.

“We need music,” I murmur. The lady hands us our drinks and points to an old record player.

“You can play something on that if you want, it’s mostly for decoration but it still works,” She smiles sweetly, “For you two, I’ll let it play. I assume you know how to work one?”

“Um yea, yea of course,” I almost break my disguise and start laughing again. She feel for it, sorta. She’s letting us do things because we look famous. We walk over to the record player. Roan picks out a record. It’s for West Side Story. “Nerd.”

“Shut up,” He mutters as he sticks on the player. Then messes with it for a few minutes. He finally gets it to work and the sound of snapping fills the room. “Would you like to dance, ma’am?”

“Yes sir, I would love to,” I smile at him. We dance like it’s a waltz. Which makes no sense but it’s still fun. I’m dancing with Roan. Roan who can kinda rock a baby blue suit and Roan who loves old musicals and Roan who is a complete dork. I grin up at him.

“What?” He smiles back.

“You’re really cute,” I sigh.

“You too,” He laughs. It’s perfect.

Maybe Not?

We’re not two of a kind.

We’re not soul mates.

We’re simply, apple and cheese.

Fine together.

But not salt and pepper.

And never

Peanut butter an jelly.

We could maybe,

Just maybe,

Be eggs and avocados.

But never,

never,

cookies and cream.

And even then.

Would it,

Would it really,

Truly,

Be worth the work to save,

A love that,

Was never supposed to last.