Tuesday, February 19, 2008

BIC History Month: A Literary Moment

"look/i made you fall in love with me/did i do it with my poetry?/i never write the ones that rhyme/but i tried really hard this time..."

-Ashleigh Marie Brown

Oh, wow. Wowowowowow. I'm so not a poet. I'm a writer. But as most writers and musicians who aren't "poet-poets", I've dipped and dabbled in poetry throughout the years. Well, in honor of BIC History Month I decided to put myself on complete blast by posting this laughable old poem of mine I just happened across. Just as a little BIC background as to why this is side-splittingly hilarious, this was written after I'd done the loosey goosey one time with a college cohort of mine that was actually a great friend before I tossed it up like a dummy. Ahhh to be 20 again. Young, dumb and full of...sugar and spice. Desperate to prove I could handle casual sex. Accomplished one thing: proved that I could not handle casual sex, since, as you will read below, I promptly decided I was falling in love with him (false) and began a notebook full o' sickeningly desperate love poems that I wrote furiously in at all times, even while out with other guys. Actually, especially while out with other guys. I know, I know, the most ridiculous BIC: the girl who acts hard but is really a gigantic, overly sensitive softie.

Wanting

We don’t talk anymore…rarely and

It’s the wanting that keeps me awake at night

and when you pull away

I only want to hold you tighter, pull you closer

I want to feel your lips upon my own

to hear your drowsy voice speak, quiet,

late in my ear

I want to feel your hands, your head, resting on

my body

want you to feel and hear what’s happening inside me

I want to touch you while you sleep, run my fingers across your skin and

try not to wake you up

enjoy a private romance with my thoughts of love

for you, when it’s love

if it’s love

I want to wrap my legs around yours, catch you and

trap you,

stick my lips into the space between your jaw and your collarbone (i love that space on you),

that little spot of neck,

so insignificant to you that I can call it my own

and not be lying to myself…

I want you

I want you to listen to me and understand me, talk to me

the way I talk to you

with the ear of supposed love, the ear of

longing and needing what is furthest from my grasp

I want you

and I want you to want me

but

I don’t want to feel your lips on mine because

I am afraid that there will be no fire behind your kiss,

this time

that I will be just another pair of lips,

just

another tally on a sheet, a way to pass the time

I don’t want to hear your drowsy voice,

not saying the words

I’ve dreamed you’d say

the “I need you”s and “you complete me”s

I can’t take the words you might really say

the accusations and statements that show

that you don’t know me,

don’t have faith in me,

don’t feel me or understand me the way I work to understand you

I don’t want to feel your head on my belly

listening to my body work, feeling my organs run

if you don’t understand that they work and

run for you…that my lungs

inhale you with each greedy breath and my heart

absorbs you, drips of you…

I don’t want to touch you while you sleep

if your back is turned away from me

I don’t want to watch you if I never get to

fall asleep first, knowing you will watch me too

I don’t want to put my lips on your neck and call that spot mine

if one day you won’t come close again

then I will have lost more than just you

but my spot,

as well…

I don’t want to wrap my legs around you

hold you close, don’t want to catch you

if you never fall into my hands, if you never trip or

lean my way

I don’t want you if you don’t want me

but I’ve lied because

I don’t want to want you if you don’t want me

and I do

I could lie under you though all four seasons, all twelve months

through the heat and the cold

the sun and the rain

I am the heat-

hot for you, the sun because I light up when you’re around

but maybe

maybe you are the cold, cold for me-

cold to me and the rain, dampening my spirits

piercing my skin with your hurtful words

drizzling when you stare at me

but pouring when you look away

I don’t want to want you if you don’t want me but I do

keep listening and understanding you

more

in hopes of hearing the one thing that will unlock your

safe, the one thing that can be my skeleton key to your heart

I don’t want this supposed love, don’t want this mirror

of self-criticism that comes with you, this desperation to see myself

as you see me, to view myself

as you view me, to dissect myself

as you dissect me, rate me, size me up, and categorize me

I don’t want this longing

this needing what is furthest from my grasp and I know how

nonsensical I can be because I don’t want

you to ever see me as unpure, to ever see my feelings

as less than they are,

I don’t want you to see me as the me you think you know

I don’t want you to be someone that I don’t know

I don’t want you to love anything more than you love me

And I don’t want to love you more than you love me…

but mostly

I don’t want to love you

more than I love me

But I could

and the wanting and

not wanting of needing you and loving you and forgetting you has me wanting

to talk to you more than I’ve ever

wanted

anything before.

-AMB

3 comments:

Tyra said...

Yeah babe, def BIC. Not just BIC but back to the roots of BIC...its embodiment. But we've all been there. :) Hell I live there...

Tyra said...

Yeah babe, def BIC. Not just BIC but back to the roots of BIC...its embodiment. But we've all been there. :) Hell I live there...

Anonymous said...

damn girl....BICing to the max...hmmm..wonder who this fool was that had you acting crazy!!