I walk up to you and then turn around

You hadn’t seen me yet

I even stop breathing just to guarantee

And whatever I was going to say I can’t remember

I can’t remember

But what comes to mind is the image of me

running to you

And you had already been looking

for me

The there is never any hesitation or searching or wondering or waiting

It’ll just

be

Sleep

The water heater is going apeshit in the closet by my air mattress. My cousin is washing up before hitting the bars with her sports afflicted husband. My mother, who should have been asleep three hours ago, is lying next to my second cousins with their dirty little faces slobbering on the pillow cases, my pillow cases. I had to give up my room for them.
The period for sleeping has past, I missed the herd of sheep the fairy dust, and sweet dreams. Now the helicopters are out searching for the common criminal and I make my rounds around the house a few more times to check the doors and low windows. I’m not an insomniac, I’m just irritated by everything and can’t go to sleep.
“Don’t you want it?” I say to my cousin as she heads out. I hand her an umbrella.
“It’s not gonna rain on this parade” she gestures to herself in a burlesque manner.
“Why are you going to the bar if you’re already drunk?”
“Shut up I’m not”
“That’s even more worrisome”
“Just make sure my kids don’t wake up”
“What should I tell them if they do?”
She gives me a squinty look and leaves with her husband fixated on his portable scoreboard tablet.
I check on my mother and before the little demons even think about waking up I slink back upstairs to my air mattress. There’s quiet, and there’s a high chance I can fall asleep now. Except it starts to sprinkle and rain, but its like white noise or whatever to me because I’m out in a second right before my cousin opens the side door.

expectations

I spent my evenings waiting for my father to come home from being on call. He brought the hospital stench with him and the stories of death to the couch. I spent my days with my mother waiting on me hand and foot in all her loving nature. She never touched my imagination afraid she’d break it’s childhood.
My parents believed I was a fairy when I told them I was a butterfly.
My parents hoped I’d be a doctor when I thought I’d be a archaeologist.
They encourage me to be something I never was exposed to as a child except as a job that kept my father away from me,
and made my mother yearn for love,
and brought a home wrecking nurse into the picture.
How could they think I’d associate myself at such a young age with something like that?
What they didn’t know is that I grew up, influenced by things I now call my calling.
My parents fed me art and drawing in the museums and walls of my house.
They watered me with oaths of literature, great speeches, and songs.
I built my perspective of the world from the center of protests and rallies.
And I expressed these things with words into sentences onto paper.
How could they be surprised that I didn’t want to be a doctor
My parents still hope, but they know…they know.

decide and receive

It was a small decision but wholly wise.

He runs a hand through his hair in self conscience paranoia of himself and the reflection in the display case glass. I’m not walking beside him because he didn’t wait for me, but with small glances back he knows I’m following.

Not a word in class, bad day? Well me too. I know I messed up once, but I was never aiming to impress you.  And the influence of others and the smile that you give, delve me deeper down a road I never wanted to take. I close my eyes and imagine, walking beside you hand in hand, and what I feel betrays what I see. I see the possibility in us. But I can tell immediately that you’re not comfortable with yourself, where you walk or stand or your place in the crowd. I can sense the compromise, too much that I should give, and I perceive that I will have to teach you constantly how to live. So you went one way thinking I would follow, I thought I’d follow too I always do. When you turned your head so slightly to see, did you see me walk the other way? I bet you didn’t know I was telling myself to keep walking mantra after mantra. Seems insignificant. But the smallest moments are the biggest steps forward. I’m moving forward away from you.

I received a sign that I made the right choice in not following him, and not looking back.

What I knew

What I knew, was that you were going to hurt me.
All you had to do, was prove that you were weak, you were spineless, you meant everything- yet nothing to me. If I could check your qualifications off a check list of my own, you would fulfilled every one until the last few.
Funny how those are the most important.
So I left you at the party because I had no choice, you had walked away. And I refuse to be the one to pull you back to me, I already wasted half my life trying to convince you. And I refuse to be the one to set her heart on something, that’s as weak as you.
Then again you’ll go on, like it’s nothing more than another drunk night.
And then again I’ll wake up, only regretting the best lessons learned.
The best lessons being everything thing I already knew, but was heart filled hopeful that it would work out somehow.
I was going to kiss you goodbye, no hard feelings.
But I had no choice to leave because you had walked away.