Right. This is one of those things that I don't like to share with anybody and don't really want anybody to know about - and yet post on my blog.
This is the reason I've been acting airy/ditzy/distracted lately.
It's both been making me depressed and extremely happy.
But more depressed. And, if I can ask you guys a favor, I request that you don't give this link to anybody. So we can kind of keep it between friends. I know that I express myself way better in writing than in words. So it can be easier for me to communicate this way.
And if I know non-friends are reading it, I won't feel safe.
So, be cool, yeah?
Oh, and the below isn't good, so don't comment on my writing style, just on the actual event itself.
Why is it
that the simplest things
turn out to create
the most trouble?
Or perhaps not create
but at least
stand witness to.
Just a simple
plain
white
V-neck
Old Navy tee shirt.
And
a pair of
very ordinary
blue jeans.
Less ordinary things:
a large
blue
crystalline pool.
A graceful dive,
shockingly provocative
in an
inexplicable
way,
just as
the door swings open
wide
and a boy
walks in the room.
Troy.
Resurface and
he'll be standing
in the bathroom
at home,
and you,
you'll be kneeling
upright
in the chipped
porcelain
bath tub.
Heart
bruising
the rib cage,
because it's obvious
that all those
times when it
wasn't sure what
A N Y B O D Y
felt.
Jeez, those times
were so
irritating
and difficult.
So words
fall out
in
the same
amount of order
as a kindergarten class.
"That wasn't for you"
for Troy
but wishing
so desperately
that he
Troy
would hope it was,
so in a bolder move,
add,
"But
if you want it to be
for you"
for Troy
"it was."
And you know
all of a sudden
that he would accept
that bold move
that was so hard
to finally make.
So the shirt,
small details
of it
somehow seeming
utterly insignificant,
comes over the head
with the cross-arms
move
that makes
those luscious
delicious
perfect
beautiful
veins
P O P
out
on his
on Troy's
arms.
Sure,
it's fabulous
on any guy,
but on his
on Troy's
it seems more special.
Like they're
P O P P I N G
for
somebody
special.
He
Troy
isn't wearing
boxers,
it seems.
Not sure.
But it feels
so good
because
the want
is so strong
that he
Troy
just jumps right in
kneeling upright
like you
in front of you
his jeans wet
in the water of the bathtub.
And you
press together.
Lips meet.
One heart
beats furiously
for sure.
The other
not so certain.
But the rest
isn't so eagerly
remembered.
The
pulling away.
It doesn't
fit
with the rest
of the
explosion of feeling
you usually only
experience alone
at night
in your bed.
So
ignore the rest
and just
remember
him
Troy
wanting
you.
5 comments:
Cc, that is such a good poem. I think that u are meant to be with "Troy" when ur older.
well. we all have our dreams. i've had my share of them, at least. i don't really know where they come from or why they happen or what makes them happen.
the way i see it? a dream is composed of different thoughts that have been flying around your mind subconsciously or consciously.
example:
in the beginning of my new school, and don't badger me about this 'cause i was going through a rough time and had no idea what i was doing with my life, i was really interested in caroline bales. so i'd dream about her a lot. i distinctly remember sleeping during a study hall and dreaming about her the whole time. but it wasn't her directly. my dream was pretty much the thought of the girl and less any interaction with her.
what i'm getting at is that we all have dreams. whether we categorize them as good or bad – they still are. we take from them what we do and it affects our daily life. whether we think we cannot attain what our dreams had provided for us or we fear that we will actually have to face what our dreams confronted us with - a dream is a dream. you're not alone in having a dream where you had a desire for something that you think you just cannot ever quench in real life. there have been times when i have woken up from a great dream and i feel just plain weird afterwards. it's all strange.
hope you feel better though.
God, I would LOVE to be faced with that dream. Too bad I've only met Troy, like, twice, and he graduated last year.
What makes me depressed is that I've never been WANTED like that.
And, thanks, Hayden.
That's so sweet that you slept through study hall and dreamt of Caroline! She is definitely dream-worthy.
I don't know how much of a contribution I can make to this. For the most part, I don't remember my dreams. The one I most distinctly remember is when nuns were taking over the world brandishing rulers. That was in second grade I think.
As Pat said, dreams are made up of whatever you're thinking of, whether you know it or not. One dream I'm remembering now I had last school year. It was a brief glimpse of Jess's yellow backpack. This was when she was upstate and all. I guess I dreamt that cause I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened and it bothered me to a great extent.
I say, don't sweat your dream. After all, it's just a dream. Awkward as it may be to run into the guy whenever you next see him. Don't feel bad about it. Time will pass and may not cover it up completely, but enough to make it less worth worrying over.
yeha. henry is right. it is just a dream. but the optimist in me always wants to think that there is something more to dreams than just the mere coalition of thoughts that dwell inside of your head.
and i've noticed i'm not the only one who has dreamt about someone they have had feelings for. this is good news.
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