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nervous like a dog i lower my head as i come to greet you. i can only actualize through your likeness, through your touch. love me, mother earth, with the gentle hand you give offer your children. love me, please, somebody love me.
nervous, kind of like a dog, i kiss your face. i’ve never been nervous around anyone before, i just was always kind of just nervous around myself. but you
but you
that’s what i always say: but you, my favorite exception
but you make me nervous. i don’t think it’s in a bad way, but rather in a natural way, like a human has ought to be nervous like a dog, cautious and slow, hesitant, but still excited to love, in order to survive. wound up but relaxed. scared but safe. anxious to give. i think that this is the right way to be. to be nervous, to be strung tight, but also to feel electric, to feel in the nerves. kiss my shoulder and i jolt, my back and i squirm, my, well my anything really, and i will lose focus. my electrochemistry, my feel of my own body, my understanding of who i am on a chemical level, is conducted by the girl i am in love with. bring me to life. please, oh please, let me live. breathe into me the words of old lovers and the grins of new faces. let me become divine through your touch. let me become.
to become a lover is to become something outside of yourself. i love vinyl and the soil, and so i will take this love inside of me from the outside world. i love stand up comedy, and so often i will tell a joke like people are watching. to love, and to internalize that love, is to be otherly: to become a mosaic. my body is almagate of record players and alligators and shitty punky bands and ottessa moshfegh novels and that is who i am.
to love is to be.
and i am scared i will never become you. not that i want to be you, but that i want to be like
it is nothing but natural to want to become like what you desire, to find her in yourself and suddenly become relieved to be the girl you are, and yet, nervous, like a dog, i greet your towering presence, scared i am not like enough, but beaming with the joy of being loved by the only individual.
Feb 13, 2025
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oh baby. i think im at an interesting angle when i read what you write, you’ve told me you can differentiate the two, girlfriend and writer, but i simply cannot. i read what you write with reference to the fact i am the only person out of hundreds of millions who sees you the second you wake up and the moment you go to bed. i love how loving you changes how i interpret what you write, and i love what you write, and i love what you are. great writing baby, and not to be patronizing - but i am proud. apt doesn’t cover it, you are something that will take a lifetime to understand, and i take that commitment as it is, my smart girl
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i didn't think they were when we first met. i mean, why would i? they were suave, confident, hot. filled to the brim with sticky hubris and emotion. but everyone has a vice, and the best of people keep theirs well hidden. so i find myself here, the place where all good characters begin-- in love. i definitely wasn't expecting it, but that's another story entirely.
i think insecurity is a cautious devil. like the fairy stories i was raised on, it's cunning, a trickster. it masquerades as many things- pride, confidence, and anger being the most prevalent flavors. my lover is none of these things, save maybe a bravado that only comes from finally having the courage to live truly as oneself after years of running. this bravado is enticing, but not necesarily a symptom. perhaps the greater fault is that i am entirely consumed by their personhood. i, like a crocodile on a winters day, bask in the sunlight of their soul. if my limbs were iron i would carve wheels from pure stone and a wagon of aged wood and use it to drag myself to their feet. yet, love is farsighted, and time has revealed the true deliciousness of their personhood rests on the facet that they too, are human.
so, we make our bed in the meadows and we fight our battles in the night. i speak more than i listen, they keep feelings like secrets. they shrivel and burrow to avoid, whereas i become louder to confront. our love is indeed an unlikely story. but i like it, and i want to make it. so, i find myself getting quieter, conceeding more. i let them win and ask them to decide. they do, and we fight sometimes. they would rather be disappointed than rejected. god, don't we all.
i speak in riddles and they in fact. maybe we are too different but we don't let it deter us, for we are far more the same than we could ever realize. still, when i speak plainly they assume puzzles, when i gently correct they quiver, when i say too much they internalize, communication rought by years of passive agressive parents and partners before me. i, who have known none of this, continue my ramblings, wanting only to share more of myself with my lover. i say the wrong thing. there is no wrong. i say things. they hurt.
i don't often mean it the way they take it. their interpretation is a faulty compass that rarely points to true north. sometimes the sheer polarity of their interpretation shocks me. i say i'm tired, they ask if i want them to leave. my direct mind cannot wrap around their curved one. if i wanted them to leave i would have asked. and i would never want such a thing. i say i am scared to become dull. they apologize for ruining me. i ask them what they want, they cannot give an anwer. insecurity is not a trait, it is a tyrant. i see them beneath the ruling scepter but i cannot budge them out from under it.
so i try to be gentle. i speak softly. i conceed. i give them exactly what they ask for. i have been trained on what to avoid. i wonder if this training is making me trickier, or more like the partners and parents that made them this way in the first place. i am no saint, i wish i could learn to shut my desperate eager mouth, a chore i have resisted and fought since childhood with the will and stubborness that remains unchanged. still i ache. the constant intent on misunderstanding me ages my soul. i feel the ache begging them from within my loving eyes. "see me as i am, lover," it cries, "please hear me as i am."
Jan 13, 2025
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and i made a song about you but it’s also about me and no one will ever hear it its called my thoughts and its not actually a song but the way music flies out of your mouth makes me want to say sweet nothings as i put my words with yours like a torn up half read book you keep by your bedside table that you tell yourself you’ll get around to. i play fast and loose with my actions around you, and maybe it’s too much even for me.
i try to distract with overconsumption of digital content thst just fucking overwhelmes me and gets in the way of anything getting done.
you’ll never read this by the way. but can i recite the pages of senseless amateur poetry i wrote about you?
i never really belong anywhere, and i camouflage into a current residence until i trick myself into thinking i truly know the people i’m around. it happened once, the effect that is. im not there anymore, and i hope those people don’t hate me like i hate myself for leaving. this isn’t about you, just me rehashing horrible guy-wrenching emotions of a past (if you can even call two years ago the past), and things i don’t talk about.
im the most observant person ever, and you wouldn’t expect it. i’m so sensitive, i pick up every little movement someone does and i overthink everything thst happens before and after a conversation, guilt racks me after any social gathering and i wonder if i said anything wrong.
but there’s so much to be grateful for life is so so beautiful im so lucky to be alive and have this device that i’m emotionally giving myself to and have given my life to. i love love, life, and people and i already made a long post about this im not reiterating. and i love how i can see you everyday and stand on the sidelines as your hype man in your game of love, ill hold the water bottle of my unrequited longing, ready to serve drops of my musings of you only to accidentally pour myself onto you.
Mar 26, 2025
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i can’t listen to music without thinking about her. every piece of shitty poetry that condemns my for you page makes me think of her in our living room. she is holding bills as she sits on our couch, a calculator on the table and a glass in the other hand. i will ask her what she wants for dinner, and she will tell me.
there’s something so guttural about knowing you want to love someone for the rest of your life. that little moments like a dinner order are exactly what will give you the drive to wake up and slave away to a 9 to 5. ive been thinking about what i wanna be a lot lately. i think it’s honestly teaching. philosophy. i like to imagine myself as a philosophy professor discussing love with my students, i would tell them about my little artist at home and our baby girl and how i too thought marriage was simply the removal of autonomy until it befell my door.
i think that’s a normal way to feel, with tubes of “the good ol ball and chain” and “can’t live with her can’t live without her“ down our throats like prospective foie gras.
but my love is gentle. it is patient. it is kind.
Mar 16, 2025
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i am in love with my daughter who has not been born. i am obsessed with her despite the fact that she still lives inside my body and likely will for the next 10 years.
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yum yum yum!! eating fruit makes me so happy. it’s almost grounding, like i’m filling myself with the soil and earth it came from. no! i don’t want a lindor chocolate! no! i don’t want a tasty little treat that was concocted in a lab! i want a juicy little tangerine and a bowl of blueberries thank you very much. i think as the natural food we eat becomes more and more infused with the poison of man (be it through pesticides, processing, gmos, or mass production), the more i crave real connection through my food. give me fruit! good honest fruit, please!
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