but for now,

i'm gonna take this one on alone

i'm gonna be an explorer alone

of the world, of wandering, and of words

and i thought you'd be here for it

but i'm not gonna sit this one out

and maybe i'll be able to tell you about it someday

i sure as hell hope i'll tell you about it one day

but for now,

i'm gonna notice the stories going on around me

because your manuscript was lost months ago

and i can't afford to continue delicately rewriting it

when i'm the only one who'll ever flip through its passionate, pointless pages anyway

it was a privilege.

it was a privilege to have my heart broken by you

i let you because you loved me like you were gonna lose me

because hell, we both knew we were always meant to say goodbye

you know you love someone when you let them break you

and you don't hate them for  doing it because it was a privilege

it was a privilege

and that's just the problem

you don't hate them

so you keep checking the mailbox and your inbox

when really, you just need to detox and unbox

you still listen to that song eleven times and you still rap that line
and you pinned the polaroid in your new apartment on the blank white wall

you can't quite surrender your heart yet

because that's what it is really

goodbye

i'm not ready to say goodbye, because i'm not ready for a new hello

and i'm not quite sure i'll ever be

and that was the problem,

she slipped briskly into an intimacy

from which she never recovered

it was a privilege
//

pastels, picasso & a promise

My parents told me were moving away. i remember when i went to my art teacher of 10 years to tell him. i waited two weeks to tell him. i hate endings and i hate graduations and i hate farewells and byes. i clutched the door handle and then backed away and did this same thing a few times after. finally, i went in. mr grove. he was a tall man with reddish brown hair, a mustache, and a temper. but he was the passionate person who helped me discover art. who helped me discover something that made sense of everything else. with tears swelling in my eyes i told him i was moving across the country. he told me something that stays with me forever. he said with a broken voice "don't you ever stop creating art. you promise me that." he gave me the golden portfolio that year. i never felt golden or worthy of an award, but he gave that to me and i did that day. but more importantly he gave me an education and he gave me a love for a georgia o'keefe painting in the third grade and a love for blank canvases and pastels and picasso. and i'll never stop making art. i want to make art for the rest of my life.  whether its in the way i trace your face with my fingertips or make dumb love poems like this one- i promise you i will never-stop.