THINGS I WANT TO REMEMBER



When I was five, I lived on 16th avenue. There are bits and pieces in which resonate my mind every so often. I remember marriage. I remember writing on the walls and baby corn and naps on the couch. The first time I got the chicken pox. I remember it all so well and I was so small, not aware of the feelings that consumed me the way they did others. The curls on my head grew, along with my mother and father. There were times when my dad would wake me up a half an hour later than I did for school just to let me sleep in. He would sometimes pick me up in the middle of the day and let me leave. This was the prime of my childhood. It was the constant reassurance that I was loved – and it came unconditional. It did not have any rules. It breathed on its own. It swallowed up every fiber in my body, structuring me, molding me as I am now. I just want to write. I don’t know what about. But it will be pages long, and I’ll continue until I feel like I cannot anymore. These are the things I wish I’d said.

my mind is always everywhere. i live for words. sometimes they aren't my own, and i post them here. sometimes i will post things that are mine. this blog is a collection of photographs i take and the things that i want to remember.


things - my things - personal

~ Monday, May 13 ~
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“There were days I wanted out.
But then you would go and do things
like dive into the Vancouver ocean,
big brilliant cliché poem that you are,
water rolling off your back
as you swam toward a sunset
that hung like a sacred recipe painted
all the way around your holy head.”

Tags: Buddy Wakefield Things
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I turn over
and remember 
that you sleep quietly
in the corner of my bed
and the slightest move
of a limb I make
has your hand reaching out
to feel me next to you
like how I felt
the first morning 
I was able
to spend a whole day
in bed with you.

Tags: my things
2 notes
~ Wednesday, May 8 ~
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I fell in love in a January.
It would be five months
and nine days
until you kissed my leopard print skin.

I was porcelain and only kissed people I loved.
You were my first.
In dark we were light.
We slid between holes in jean pockets 
and held our hearts beneath street lights.

We are fucking magnetic.
The axis in our stomachs kept us molded
and we clung to each other,
even when nothing was left.

In the morning we were silently electrifying.
The sunlight of seven a.m brought our bodies closer;
our limbs intertwined with one another and by eleven a.m.
I wanted you in my bed for as long as I could have you in it.
Two hundred and four miles 
and I am sleeping in a bed made for two.

We bleed more often than others
but we are so fucking gifted.
Together I have watched you grow.
Even when you were not here
I held your pain in my palm.

Your mouth
scarred novels on my skin.
We laid horizontally on my bed.
Your fingers
ran over my tears and said,
“Look at me.”
My heart
has stopped a million times
for you.

I fell in love in a January.
Fifteen months
and fifteen days has passed.
We slept the whole day away.
In and out of sleep,
your hands ran a long my outer thighs
and the love in your eyes stayed apparent
so I am able to remember
until we are together again.
I still feel you here.

I fell in love in a January.
You were my first.
And you are
my last.

Tags: my things
18 notes
~ Thursday, April 11 ~
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I’ve realized more than most things 
that I am not alone 
just waiting to be opened up again 
by you

I’d like for you to take
all the important parts of my body

I told you this
as you slid one hand down south
towering over the cliffs and rightfulness 
of my precious anatomy
that you call home

There still isn’t a day
where I have stopped 
climbing mountains
on your laugh lines 

where I had forgotten 
the sugar coat your lips 
left on my skin

where I had forgotten the love
you filled me with

And your mouth tastes very good
when you kiss me like that.

Tags: My things
16 notes
~ Friday, March 29 ~
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I am not alone.
he’s here now.
sometimes I think
he’s gone
then he
flies back
in the morning or at
noon or in the
night.

he’s mine.

my bird of pain.

Tags: Charles Bukowski Things
9 notes
~ Sunday, March 17 ~
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And my head keeps racing back to the last time you were in my bed when it was late and the lamp was on and I was crying and we were laying on my bed horizontally and you wiped my tears and said, “Look at me.” I think my heart stopped.

Tags: My things
12 notes
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I think about people all the time that have to go through their lives feeling mediocre feelings that they think are real, or have to see people who never go through things to admit that it has changed and shaped them as a person. I am so grateful for my heartache. Though it has given me sadness it has given me so much to know. People always define love as their own definition but there is so many people that never get to experience the passion that comes a long with it. I feel sorry for those people.

No truer words have ever been spoken.
You are so strong.
Please call soon.


3 notes
~ Monday, March 11 ~
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“For this moment, this one moment, we are together. I press you to me. Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob.”

Tags: My things Things Virginia Woolf
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~ Monday, February 25 ~
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I knew it then, you weren’t scared of loving me anymore - you just did. It was so beautiful.

Tags: my things
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~ Sunday, February 24 ~
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“This is it, Joel. It’s gonna be gone soon.”
“I know.”
“What do we do?”
“Enjoy it.”

Tags: Things
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