Background Of Life

background of life

she’ll be laughing and crying and she won’t be denying that her emotions are way too out of whack

she’ll be singing sweetly and speaking meekly ‘cause her voice has never had her back

and she has always known that she is just an extra in the background of life

where i am

it is dark, but the grey-orange glow of the city bounces off of the clouds and seeps through the window. i can hear rain, and the occasional whisper of distant thunder or a car’s tires on the street outside. the couch is too hot, but it is soft.

i am the only one. i wish i could bring you here, but you are far away, aren’t you?

The Refuge

The only house perched on the only gravel road that split  my uncle’s property, [REDACTED]

“The Refuge” for short.

Our mail appeared in the only mailbox by The Gate, in front of the army of invading bamboo, next to the rotting tree stump, still taller than me, and annually engulfed in wisteria.

Whenever my cousin’s college friends overtook The Dock for the girls to tan and the boys to cannonball into The Lake, my dog whined restlessly at the door until they finally left. The Mound was the farthest area from our house in the Refuge, all the way down the only gravel road, down the steep speed-bumped hill that stopped my bike in its tracks until I was brave enough to ride up.

The Mound wasn’t anything but an enormous pile of dirt my siblings and I would venture to once in a bored blue moon. We carved shelves in its side for our favorite trinkets from nature and challenged each other to clamber to the top, which was covered in unforgiving brambles and thickets.

By now, our trinkets have long since been buried by a bulldozer.

awkward first date

why does this always happen?

long silences filled with quick eye contact and giggles for no reason

like an awkward first date

no one would guess that we’ve known each other for years

little touches

leaning in

hugs that last too long

smile

in which, simon likes to play a game and make baz smile.

baz

“Smile,” he demands.

I raise an eyebrow at him as he cups my cheek with a hand.

“Come on, Baz. One smile. Please?”

I frown.

“Darling? Dear? Love? Pumpkin? Sweetie pie? Precious?”

I grimace.

“Pretty please? For me?”

I don’t respond. He pouts and reaches for my sides. He’s tried this before. He knows I’m not ticklish.

But he is. Ridiculously so.

I grab him before his hands even reach me and he’s shouting/laughing within seconds. He starts to lean backwards, instinctively trying to get away from me before he realizes there’s nothing there. I catch him before he falls. Like a responsible boyfriend.

And, Crowley, I have to bite my cheek to keep from smiling at this. His face is red and his eyes are watery from laughter and he’s still got a massive grin on his face. He wipes at his eyes and I pull him back onto the couch.

And I know what he’s going to try next. It used to work. He leans forward and  plants a gentle kiss right on my unmoving lips. It makes me feel warm all over, but I don’t let myself respond to it.

He tilts his head back and searches my face. When I don’t budge, he sighs deeply and let his forehead fall onto my shoulder. He’s giving up.

I let one hand find his curls and the other find his waist. I let myself relax. And smile.

Simon tries to lift his head, and I know I can’t get rid of it before he sees. On impulse, I hold him down. He squirms in my grasp.

“You’re smiling!” he accuses.

“No, I’m not.”

He wings start flapping wildly.

“I can hear it in your voice!”

“That’s impossible,” I laugh.

“You’re impossible!”

I let him go and his head whips up. I’m still laughing as he pouts at me.

Eventually though, he smiles too. He pecks me on the cheek.

“I like it when you smile.”

bruised stars

Her hands—always freezing—they are alive. Her dead eyes are blinded by city lights. She counts blessings until she adds up five And now she struggles with putting up fights.

She doesn’t have a personality. She owns every one of them, all at once, Mind dancing with originality. She aches to be gone but she’s been here months.

Her laughs and smiles are a bit too forced. No one seems to notice her behavior. Her humor has become too stiff and coarse. She has long stopped waiting for her savior.

Her sky is filled with jet black and bruised stars So she seeks refuge in distant sandbars.