precipitation anticipation

I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but something about the walk home from Cambronne always reminds me of playing outside in the early summer in Georgia. Maybe it’s the fact that there are a lot of leafy green trees on some of the roads that I take. Maybe it’s the calm feeling I get when I leave Charlie’s apartment and stretch my legs a little, with smoky hair and my ballerina slippers. Maybe it’s the poppies in the park, or the little kids on the swingsets.

Today was not an exception. Sunday afternoon and sunny, slight breeze. And then all of a sudden the sky turned very dark and the breeze became a bit more menacing, several large raindrops fell on my forehead.

All I could think of is that moment when you are on your bike, a mile from home, circling around your little girlfriends, and that feeling arrives. The blue shifts, the wind flips your ponytail, and you know you better step on it, fast, if you want to make it home before the sky opens up and empties itself of all those hot summer raindrops.

The kind that sizzle and pop when they hit the hot hot black pavement, letting off puffs of steam.

men explain things to me

men

explain this

crazy

complicated

mixed up world

that I just can’t seem to wrap my little girl head around.

and the best part is,

I don’t even have to ask!

amazing facts

+The king of hearts is the only king without a moustache on a standard playing card//
+When glass breaks, the cracks move faster than 3,000 miles per hour//
+I'm having trouble being faithful to my new boyfriend//
+Slugs have 4 noses//
+Owls are one of the only birds who can see the color blue//

never knew

miss cecelia rose
misses people
whom
she wishes
she never knew.

he said

you look as delicious
as a pain au chocolat,
fresh out of the oven.

with me
you'll
/ always /
be spoiled.

apéro// apropos

“My cell phone doesn’t work at my house or at the house where I work.”

“You mean, at the office where you work?” he said, peering at me over his beer.

“Oh you are making fun of my french now? Do you want to talk in english? Would that be easier for you?” I said, and gave him a little dirty look.

“No, not english. I am awful at english,” he said.

“Hello, how are you? The cat is on the table. Where is the...”
before I could finish my English lesson, he smothered me in kisses.

rue losserand

wore my new blue shoes
to the dive bar
down the street

and now i'm in love
in so many ways.

its refreshing.

breathe

breathe


breathe






breathe

^manifest destiny^

i could be a french teacher in a southern high school or a divorce laywer in reno

i could be married to one of the trust fund babies that seem to find me, two kids and a penchant for baking pies

i could be slacking off in the suburbs, or sweating it back in new orleans

i could be with the german, or the californian, or the persian or the new yorker,

(but that would be too easy.)
you can’t pick what the heart wants
[and i’ve never felt that more than right now.]

truth is
its
really really really really hard.

but the second i stop challenging myself is the second i give up.

and i don’t give up.

at least,
the me i want to be
doesn’t give up.
the me i want to be,
does not fuck trust fund babies
or live in one language/or love in one country
or continue straight away.

i can’t continue straight away

i. just. can’t. trust. that. damn. map.

sunday mornings and wednesday nights i want it to be easy. those are the times i want to be with you. those are the times i want to understand. just understand. understand everything.

the me i want to be understands.
the me i want to be creates.

\

the me i want to be: she loves the hurt, (it means its not too easy).

april is national poetry month

30 ways to celebrate

i know some poets like to write a poem a day in april. i don't like to force my writing but i will try to write some more little poems than usual this month, or rather, post more little poems that i write that might normally fall into my archives.

my favorite poets are the american beats and the french surrealists, which, at the end of the day, describes me pretty well i think. i am thankful i have these wonderful words in my life

.

je n'ai jamais écrit
croyant le faire
je n'ai jamais aimè
croyant aimer
je n'ai jamais rien fait
qu'attendre
devant la porte
fermée

- Marguerite Duras

reality

everyone thinks i want gq
mr money
ceo
the iv

but i
crush
hard
on
chefs&carpenters
*