M.A.S.H. 2010

After much searching, the nirvana of childhood love has been FOUND. (5 childhood journals later...)
Please enjoy the fact that I have a butler(??) and that I'm going to have a HAIRBALL as a specialty item. So if you see me in 30 years don't forget to ask about Sally, Susie, Ben, Greg, Pam, Bruce... And all 42 of the other kids I'm going to crank out. See you at the altar, Carson M.

Drive Safe

She said 

"Drive safe was always my I love you"

And it was like your 

next-to-me smile 

was tangible. 

And I didn't even have to 

look over to know you were thinking the same thing I was.  

And no it's not love 

but it's not like either. 

And maybe we're floating 

somewhere in between

But I can't explain to you 

how right it feels 

in those 

late for curfew 

had too much to drink 

(hot cocoa) we're Mormon...

saying goodbye 17 times because 

talking about peachios 

and our lack of butts 

is more important than 

the bags under our eyes 

moments those 

future car wishing

future trip planning

future 

future

our future

discussions.

because when I met you, 

me turned into we 

and we've been 

working together ever since. 

If you asked me last year 

if I would ever consider another 

relationship in high school 

I would've laughed. 

Probably for a long time. 

Yet here I am. 

I'm the 3 am talks kind of girl. 

That tilt-a-whirl 

kiss in the back of the car kind of girl.

And him. 

that closet from 

savers kind of boy. 

That skip school 

poetry blues

kid next door kind of boy.

So as you're going 

home tonight, my darling, 

don't forget to 

put your seatbelt on. 

Drive safe. 

Drive safe. 

Drive safe. 

check out the blogpost by the amazing Carter J Pratt that inspired this poem here

leave me be

My dreams made waking up a 

son-of-a. 

My dreams qualified rolling out of bed to be

a bitch.

I dreamed I was in Paris 

but I woke up in my bed

I looked in the mirror 

I looked everywhere but my eyes

because I didn't want to confirm the truth. 

I was not in Paris.

How could I be here? 

All the time I spent in Paris couldn't have been a dream.

It was too real to have been a dream

"It's ok",

I told myself. 

I tried to believe it was fate.

Being an ocean away

was supposed to prepare 

me for something. 

I knew it. 

But I wanted to crush

the breathing distance 

between me 

and the Eiffel Tower.

Take me there again. 

Make me feel 

Because there 
I found love and 
I don't know if it was for 

the flowers in the classroom or

the boy that sat in front of me.

There, 

I found that

creativity is my native language and 
sacking is my thing. 

There,

I conquered 

my fear of 

blank pages and 

black pens.

There. 

It was always there.

That was the only place 

I wanted to be. 

So please don't

wake me up next time.
Leave me be. 

Id rather live in a dream 

than wake up to a reality 

without

Paris