Fire and Ice
The literary contradictory attempts of a sometime writer.anticipation
the waiting, watching
frantic wanting
{to see your face}
{to hear your voice}
no respite from
active craving
almost dizzy with the aching
breathless, gasping
with the craving
{thirsting for your brand of loving}
twisting, writhing
head is spinning
endless pining
{endless pain}
anticipation
no regrets
no redemption
!SLAP!
I WANT TO RUN OUTSIDE AND SCREAM, NO SHRIEK, A NEVER ENDING CATERWAUL OF DESPAIR BECAUSE FOR A WHILE THERE I FORGOT, I FORGOT HOW MUCH THIS AFFECTS ME, HOW MUCH THIS MAKES ME FEEL, THE ~PASSION~ OF WORDS, THE BEAUTY OF SENTIMENT, THE DEPTH OF PATHOS, DELICIOUS EMOTIONS THAT ROIL AND LANGUISH AND ~FLOURISH~ IN MY STILL-BUT-BEATING HEART
one side of the conversation
time?
oh didn’t you hear?
it died.
what?
oh, murder i think.
i don’t know, stabbed or shot or some such thing.
don’t bother me.
i’m just sitting here.
what *now*?
nothing, just sitting.
and what is that supposed to mean?
i’m just sitting here!
i didn’t do anything
i was just sitting here and it died
go ‘way
Today is a happy day for me for I have forgotten the song that you planted in my head before during all the madness of that time the wildness that was us the improbability
–
She didn’t think it would work. She had never cursed anyone before, had never cast a spell before, and she honestly didn’t think it would work.
–
THIS IS IT (Death said). She looked around. Things looked the same to her. She knew she was dead, but this didn’t feel like death to her. Everything was the same as she had left it. It was boring. Then she realized that this was her hell. An eternity of things staying exactly the same.
(i have no idea what this is about)
If you close your eyes
It will go away
If you hide under the blankets
It will leave you alone
If you close the door
It won’t be able to come in
If you hide in the closet
It won’t be able to find you
If you say the magic word
It will disappear
If you wish really really hard
It will cease to exist
this is how
i love you awkward
i love you boyish and innocent
and impish and grinning
and openly beaming
i love you passionate
i love you squeezing and intense
and wordy and expressive
and artful and giving
i love you freely and without doubt
i love you until tomorrow
and the day after that
and the day after that
i love you until all the tomorrows dry up
i will always love you
Part 1 (just to get it out of draft)
Sylvia knew she was going to read something that she didn’t like, yet she did it anyway. It was stupid she knew, but she did it anyway. She didn’t like herself for doing it, but she did it anyway.
She opened Eric’s laptop, logged in to his account, using his birthday numbers in reverse, interspersed with the name of his first dog. He had told her this technique before, and she just assumed that he also uses it, and she was correct. Only she had to guess that it was the name of his first dog that he would use, instead of his first cat, which was what he had instructed her to do. Also, she kind of stumbled upon reversing his birthdays numbers instead of using them in the correct order, because it didn’t work the first ten times she tried it.
The familiar Windows logo came up, and she was presented with his wallpaper. It was a birchwood floored room bathed in light, with two armchairs, one white and one orange. The armchairs were the kind she knew he liked, unconventional works of art which looked uncomfortable to sit on, yet looked really good on photographs.
She clicked on the Yahoo messenger icon from his quicklaunch bar. It came up immediately. He has a fast laptop.
The username and password were already filled in. Username ericdemesa. Password **********. How convenient.
Contacts > Message Archives.
She knew as a Yahoo user that the first folder that came up is the folder of the person that he last chatted with on the messenger. The name of the folder was also the username of the person. The initial view is the start of the conversation, with timestamps shown by default.
The name of this particular folder is lonelyhart08.
The timestamp showed that they had started chatting last night at around 9PM. Right around the time they were text messaging each other about what time to have dinner tonight (around seven-ish), and where (that new pasta place on the Upper West side, so that they could meet up as his place before and go back and watch a movie after).
She scrolled down to the bottom, emoticons strewn here and there, trying to ignore some of the redder emoticons, and noted the timestamp of when they ended. 1AM.
She took a deep breath, and clicked on Save, gave it a filename in the dialog box that showed up, and opened up Gmail to send herself the transcript. She knew the emoticons wouldn’t show up in the saved text file, but she didn’t have time to make a screenshot and save a proper copy of the transcript. Eric was going to come out of the shower soon, and she didn’t really want him to know that she was snooping around in his computer. She didn’t want to get caught.
The middle of something
This will never work she thought, as she slipped a hand through his fine hair, noting the clean non-greasy feel of each strand her fingers brushed aside. Which completely underlined her point. He was too clean, too… fine. She slid her palm a little lower and let her thumb graze his lower lip, the softness of it making her think of slick satin pillowslips. She tried to avoid his gaze, focusing instead on a point just below the corner of his mouth, where there was a slight dip in his creamy flesh that deepened every time he smiled, which he often did. Too often, in fact. She had always been of the opinion that men like that were those who knew exactly what the effect their smiles had on women. And she had always prided herself on her measure of control in the selection of people whom she chose to let herself get close to.
“I usually don’t date guys like you.”
“What was that?” he asked softly, smiling a little and lightly touching her arm.
She reddened as she realized that she had somehow said that out loud.
I’ll just pretend I said something else.
“I said I usually don’t date guys like you.”
Dammit.
His smile widened and he drew away from her a bit, and she realized that what she just said suddenly concentrated all the tension in the room in their corner.
Writer’s Block
I didn’t (mean to but)…
You weren’t…
I always…
And now…
You would…
I guess…
You don’t…
I never…
I won’t…
But then…
I did.
Again.
Do you?
Do you remember when you bought me that blanket even when I told you not to, you went ahead and bought it, and it’s the warmest blanket I’ve ever had, and it’s the first one I’ve ever owned that’s all to myself?
Do you remember when I got hungry at 2AM, and you got up and cooked me some instant noodles, and made me just wait at the table until they’re done, and then afterwards we had ice cream?
Do you remember when we walked more than two blocks looking for a place that served what I said I was craving at the time, rice porridge I think, even though I knew you were starving already, cause you said I “had to have what I wanted, always”, and actually meant it?
Do you remember when you remembered that my shoes needed to be replaced and took me to the store to force me to buy a new pair cause you knew I would never think to do that on my own?
Do you remember when we were out, and my head hurt, and you bought me medicine and water?
Do you remember when I fell asleep on the train, and you pulled my head to your shoulder?
In fact, do you remember all the times you said you would do stuff for me, and I tell you not to, but you go ahead and do them anyway, and I’m always all “aww you shouldn’t have” cause really, you never have to every time, and yet you still do?
I bet you don’t. Never mind. I can remember for both of us.
