Sunday, March 6, 2011

Can You Tell Me More Sweet Nothings?

And here goes another Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz (her last name is a mouthful) masterpiece. 
After Reading Old Unrequited Love Poems

If I didn’t think it’d make me appear crazy still,
I’d apologize to you for having been so crazy then.

Reading the poems I had written about “us”
resurrected all that nervous heat, reminded me
of the insistent stutter of my longing,
how I could never just lay it out there for you.

The answer, clearly, would have been
no, thank you. But perhaps that tough line
would have been enough to salvage all
that was good and woolly about us: your laugh,
that golden ring I’d always stretch a story for;
the pair of mittens we’d split in the cold

so we’d each have a hand to gesture with;
how even now, the paths we took are filled

with starry wonder and all that bright limitless air.

I’m sorry I could never see myself

out of the twitching fever of my heartache,
that I traded everything we had for something

that never ended up being. But if I could take
any of it back, it wouldn’t be the glittering hope
 I stuck in the amber of your eyes, nor would
it be the sweet eager of our conversations.

No, it would be that last stony path to nothing,
when we both gave up without telling the other.

How silence arrived like a returned valentine
that morning we finally taught our phones not to ring.


Have you ever found yourself out of breath, gasping, for the sheer exertion of racing after time? I have. It would seem like the past few weeks have been nothing short of hectic. 

A minute feels like half. A day feels like an hour.

In the morning, I would doze off after hitting the snooze button, futilely putting off the inevitable. After what feels like a second, my alarm clock would start prodding my brain to finally face the day, albeit reluctantly. It's a bit ironic how I would find myself at the end of the day, crawling to my bed in utter exhaustion, like a wounded animal and wake up in the morning pretty much doing the same thing.

But enough about the whole i-desperately-need-to-hibernate drama. 

I've been saving this whole ensemble for the longest time now. I called upon the girly-girly forces hovering around me and finally made myself wear it before the ensemble gets buried under piles of clothes in my closet. So there you go--my "my princess-esque", lacey-lacey, girly-girly outfit.

PS: I badly need to lose weight. Any healthy suggestions?


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