Greatest soul there ever was

I have a story of this girl that I’d like to share.

I moved to Portland in the hopes that I could discover what the hell I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Leaving college to work and seek opportunities the city had seemed a lot easier in my head. But nothing ever turns out the way you expect it to. I was an island girl alone in a city with nothing going for me but my determination. I was lucky enough to find two jobs and immerse myself into work so that I didn’t have a chance to miss home too much. And that’s when I met Daisy. She is the most radiant soul I’ve ever come across. Crazy and filled with laughter and knowing exactly what she wanted from the world. She took me under her wing and got me through the hard days when anxiety made it impossible for me to concentrate on the positive things in my life.

You may be the most worried and anxious person in this world but if you spent five minutes with Daisy you would be laughing your ass off and forget about whatever you were crying over just moments before. She would come over to my house and crawl under my comforter and fall asleep. And I was content to have her next to me, even if she was unconscious and drooling on my pillow. She rekindled my faith and reminded me that there is love and hope in this world that seemed so selfish. She would drive me around in her little bug car that she could barely navigate on the city streets and we would sing to Vance Joy and talk about boys who broke our hearts and laugh about how stupid we were back then.

She had a dream of moving to Australia to work for a non-profit that builds communities for the less fortunate. And when she moved I thought I’d be okay. I thought I had my fill and I was inspired beyond belief to move onto living out my dreams. But God I miss her so much. Friends didn’t come easily for me growing up, and Daisy was a rare gem that made me wonder about this world and the people inhabiting it. She simply didn’t care what people thought about her. She would snort loudly when she laughed and she would run around in public like a child first discovering a playground. This girl radiates love, an attribute that most people have to work incredibly hard to have. I wish I could have half the patience and kindness for people as she has. But I’ll have to settle for being the pessimistic girl who is terrified of rejection and loss. And I’m okay with that. Because as long as I have Daisy there is hope for that fear I hold close to my heart.

We don’t talk much anymore since she left. But I know she’s out there blessing people with her heart and her smile. And Daisy, wherever the hell you are, I love and miss you so much that it hurts. But I know that it’s not the end of the world. It never is unless you let it be. You taught me that.

 

 

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When I Love You Most

When the streetlights hang low and that black shirt fits you just right…

is when I love you most.

Because the streetlights, they know our drunken dances by heart.

They know our darkest secrets and deepest kisses.

They guide us home where I’ll love you until the lights fade and the rest of the world rises for the sun.

And when you wake up and light a cigarette while you read your favorite book, is when I love you most.

I remember the night that the streetlights went out and all we could see were stars and I tried to write a poem about the universe and you pretended to love it like you love your favorite book.

But the lights flickered back on and the stars disappeared and for awhile you did too.

And I remember the night you came back and I lit your favorite book on fire and you used that black shirt that fits you just right to put it out.

You still wear that shirt for me even with the smoke stain on the sleeve.

You told me that while you were away you had a dream of someone else’s hands on me beneath the streetlights.

So they led you home where you found me with a bottle of your favorite wine reading your favorite book.

I was crying because I didn’t understand a word of it and you didn’t have the patience to explain.

That night I loved you least.

Because even though I knew all of your favorite things you still walked into the world of the sun, and left me wondering if the damn streetlights would remind you of the stars and me.

And when you came home you didn’t yell at me for starting the fire, and you didn’t fight back.

You just put it out and looked at me with the eyes that I love the most.

I wanted to start riots and I wanted to see you burn but the next morning I found you smoking a cigarette while you read my poem about the universe, as if it were your favorite book.

And that is when I knew you loved me most.

The Problem

She lived for peace, but would die for beauty, that was the problem…

Red lipstick only stains the party drinks and the mascara only runs down her cheeks when she’s alone.

High heels only made her feet swell and tight dresses only made her eat less.

That was the problem.

She lived for love but couldn’t love herself.

Lying between sweaty sheets from the drugs that made her look tough.

Lying to herself about the alcohol burning her throat and the hands trailing up her dress.

She lived for hope, but couldn’t shake the feeling of the empty space between her rib cage.

That was the problem.

She couldn’t live a life being happy with herself.

Her very being wasn’t enough to keep her standing tall, wasn’t enough to ground her to this world where beauty and pain are one in the same.

She stood in front of him, naked horripilated skin exposed, blood pounding through her veins and not one ounce of confidence.

She lived for him and he walked away.

And that was the problem.

Hands

The first thing I noticed about him was how warm his hands are. Warm and gentle. He caught me staring at his hands today. He hid them, as if he was embarrassed. I wish I could have told him that his hands were all I thought about. I think I might be addicted. People look at addiction as a problem, a secret for the dark. But when it comes to him I’m not ashamed to admit that I can’t function without him. If only he knew about the shock that reverberates through my veins whenever his hand lightly touches my back, letting me know that he’s there. Oh God that’s the best feeling, knowing he’s there.

It’s hard not to lean into him when he’s standing next to me. He doesn’t seem to notice when I do. I wish he would. I wish his presence was enough. But I’m always wanting more. More touch, more quick glances, more sly smiles. I never know what he means by those smiles. They’re brief and curious and beautiful. And they drive me mad with wonder. I wonder about him a lot. I wonder what his hands have done, what they’ve created. I wonder how many hearts crumbled to pieces at those smiles. I wonder who those fingers have touched. Thinking of the girls he’s loved hurts because when he leans towards me I can’t breathe. And I can’t stop wishing those hands were on me, warming me up in that gentle way of his. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of forever wondering about him. Maybe I’ll learn to make that enough. But until then I’ll steal every glance, touch, and smile that I can. Because what’s the point in loving someone if you don’t enjoy those little things?

When I Leave You Behind

Leave me here with the birds and the trees. And I’ll sing a haunting tune that reminds me of you. You pulled me drunkenly through the quiet streets, promising to always kiss me goodbye, even if you were mad. We’d make it through the door and collapse beside each other on the bed, out of breath with our arms touching. We would stare up at the cracks on the ceiling, wondering if that’s what heart break looked like. Your fingers would find mine and I’d pretend not to notice while you kissed my skin until your soft mouth met mine. And then the sheets would wrap endlessly around us while our bodies created an ecstasy no drug could ever provide. I fell in love with you during one of those nights.

I loved you long before you admitted that you loved me too. It was cold and we were curled up on the couch next to the fireplace, your gray eyes reflecting the sky outside. You whispered to me what I had been waiting to hear and I kissed you until the sun set and the fire was a pile of embers. And when you got a tattoo of a rose as a tribute to me, I cried. Because when I saw it stained on your skin I saw a piece of me that would always be with you. But not even tattoos can last forever. I bet that you’ll come up with some insignificant story when your kids ask about it. God forbid they ever know that you once told me about the way my eyes used to bring you out of your drunken stupor while you shouted promises I knew you’d never keep.

Those empty promises are why I’m here with my toes hanging over the ledge, waiting for the courage only you could give me. I bet you’ll fake a laugh when they tell you what I did. You’ll say I was always dramatic and you’ll be ashamed that you ever loved me. Then they’ll tell you that I had a rose clutched in my fist. The same fist you used to kiss when we would fight and I tried to hit you but never could. And then you’ll shed a tear for my eyes and write a tortured tune and sing it to a pretty girl who would take my place in your arms. I bet you’ll think of me everyday, especially in spring when the roses bloom and you’re stumbling home in the dark without my hand to guide you. You’ll keep a picture of me, as worn out as your tattoo, and look at it when you’re feeling sad, because I was the only one who could make you laugh during your darkest days.

I hope she’ll be jealous because she’s not me. Because she’ll know I meant the world to you, even if you never tell her that. You’ll promise her that you never think of my eyes and that your tattoo was a stupid thing you did when you were young. But before you go to sleep you’ll see me, and you’ll smile to yourself because I loved you more than anything in this world. And baby, I hope that one day you’ll know why I left you behind.

I wish you knew that when my feet brought me over the ledge I was thinking of you the entire time. I wish you knew that when I broke like the bottle I once threw at your head, it was the best feeling in the world. I didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurt. I am no longer someone who lost the most precious thing in the world. The doctor’s words are no longer on repeat in my mind and I don’t have to look into your eyes and know that I put that sadness there. I don’t have to live with the fact that my body turned against me and the tiny life inside of me. And baby, I know you’ll find someone who can give you what you need. Because after all, I’m just a discolored blemish on your skin, a love that was beautiful until the roses died and I was left there with the birds and the trees, singing a haunting tune that reminded me of you.