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LMS V: exorcism of a love that never was



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Sun Dec 29, 2019 11:36 pm
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niteowl says...



the last fantasy

long after i let go
of the notion that you
would love me back,
and even after i stopped hoping
we could still be friends,
there is one last daydream
that persists in my mind.

that despite everything
i am, all ugly and crazy and flawed,
someone would love me,
find something in me worth holding onto.

that i would give them something softer,
yet stronger and more solid,
than the fiery wisps of manic obsession
i gave you (because that was all i had).

that we would live our lives,
perhaps travel the globe,
rechristening spain with new memories.

and then, on some distant summer day,
(it's always summer in these daydreams),
i would stumble upon you once again.

why do i want this?
maybe i just want you
to see me whole and happy
in a way i couldn't be at twenty.

here in reality,
i am digging into the muck
to find the bits of me worth loving,
to figure out how to love properly
(even though i will get heartbroken again),
and to finally live for the future.

and if i see you again,
that would be fine,
but if i don't,
i know i'll be okay.


Lines: 35
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Fri Jan 03, 2020 3:58 am
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niteowl says...



the final weekend

the parts i tell:
how we took a bus to pamplona and ran free until the bulls were set loose. how we found a carnival at midnight and drank ourselves silly. how we staked out a spot at the first turn thanks to an old guy in a detroit tigers hat. how the fences go up every morning as the crowd grows larger. how we were two wooden gates away from running. how the bulls zoom by in seconds and i have a picture of a man jumping the fence sandwiched between two bulls. how the streets empty in minutes as we made our way to the bus. how we got back and slept until the game, the world cup finals. how the nation bit its nails and cheered as the game moved to overtime, then exploded as iniesta's goal sealed it. how we made our way to the ocean at four in the morning, a few tiny souls of a country in ecstasy.

the parts i don't tell:
that my heart ached for you and only you, even if i had made out with eight guys on the last thursday night when you weren't there. that i thought you were in love with her. that you probably only let me join you in pamplona out of pity. that my bladder was absolutely bursting after hours standing in one spot. that i was jealous of the random girl from costa rica you were flirting with. that the next day, i woke you up asking where we should meet to watch the game. that you probably told me the wrong bar on purpose. that it took me nine years to realize that. that i still found you in the chaos because no matter how lost i was, i was good at finding you. that i almost told you i loved you as we ate donor kebab on the way home. that sometimes i still think i should have just kissed you because it's not like you would've remembered.

i mention you only as "one of the few non-assholes on the entire trip" or simply "my friend". if i'm feeling extra-confessional, you become "the guy i thought i was in love with".

sometimes i wonder what you remember, what you share with your buddies, what lies you tell by omission, where i fit into your story, if i'm a friend or foe.

at this point, i don't want to demand or beg or plead, but i hope you remember me, even if it's only in the parts you'll never say out loud.

Lines: 30
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Mon Jan 13, 2020 12:37 am
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niteowl says...



cw: depression, mention of suicidal thoughts

sinking in the summer drought

Spoiler! :

july 13th. one last trek up the hill, side by side, just like the first time, but this time i am full of words unspoken and desperation. let's hang out in the fall, yeah? i say as if my life doesn't depend on your affirmation. a hug and euro-kiss at the top of the stairs. i inhale your cologne and pray this isn't the last time i see you. as i tried to pack, all i could do was start missing you.

two days, three airports, and a serpentine customs line later, i am home. my mother asks how the trip was and i tell her how they made fun of me, said i talked to much. she said i do talk too much. all i could do was sleep and feel even more alone.

i watched them from a laptop screen, bragging about the best summer ever. i uploaded pictures, straining to find ones where i looked okay, not like the odd girl out, the fat one who can be cropped out of existence. i tried revenge, posting their sloppy drunk thursday photos, but they ate it up. all i could do was ponder the lies i'd have to tell about this summer.

day in, day out. i hide from the sun because it mocks me. i am slow and sleepy as my old laptop uploading the photos. i decide i should have drowned the day the waves almost took me. maybe they would've felt bad for how they broke me then (they wouldn't have, you were just a beached balena to them). all i could do was hate myself for everything i am, because i don't know how to make myself palatable to anyone.

between tears and regrets and ugly facebook comments, all i could do was count down the days until school started, because you'd be there, and in that late summer half-asleep haze, your memory was my lifeline, my distraction from the pain.


lines: 22
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Mon Jan 20, 2020 2:33 am
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niteowl says...



A song of sorts, though I don’t have time to make it a proper song.

I wrote you letters from a madhouse
That I’m glad you’ll never read
‘Cause your girlfriend drives you mad, boy
But at least she isn’t me

I guess our string of misfortune
Started on a Thursday night
We got drunk and on the way home
I saw the starlight in your eyes

And I swore that it was love
And I swore that it was right
And I swore that you felt it too

Oh, I wrote you letters from a madhouse
I was hoping that you’d read
If your girlfriend drives you mad, boy
Well you know there’s always me

And I burned for you in summer,
A Martyr dying in the flames
And when the liquor came to drown me
I would write to you and pray

‘Cause I swore that it was love
And I swore that it was right
And I swore that you felt it too...

Oh, I wrote you letters from a madhouse
I was hoping that you’d read
If your girlfriend drives you mad, boy
Well you know there’s always me

When they took me away
I was screaming your name
And hoping that you’d come
Take me out of this place

I was shaking and crying
As I wrote it all down
I didn’t understand
You’d never want me around

I left my dignity in pieces
That you never tried to find
Cause you never let me in so
I finally realized

That none of this was love
None of this was right
And you never felt it too

I tore up letters from a madhouse
That I’m glad you’ll never read,
Cause if your girlfriend drives you mad, boy
Thank the lord she’s not like me

45 lines
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Mon Jan 27, 2020 2:06 am
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niteowl says...



a ten year dry spell

we grow up believing in fairy tale kisses and happily ever after. in the movies, there's no "i love you" without "i love you, too".

in movies, you don't have your first kiss at nineteen just to get it over with. you don't wander from mouth to mouth in bar after bar, wondering if they all feel this slimy. you don't end up in the corner with nikolai the russian feeling you up while you're thinking about the one person whose hand you actually want there. you don't get that glorious moment memorialized on facebook accumulating 20000 comments before you can untag yourself.

you don't kiss guys (and girls) who wouldn't give you the time of day if they were sober. you don't let the asshole responsible for ten years of therapy bills kiss you on a goddamn dare. and you don't text the person you'd rather be kissing about all of this in hopes that...what? he will come save you and give you that hollywood-ending kiss? nope. that shit doesn't happen. even pretty girls don't get that kind of magic, and who are you to think you could ever be a pretty girl?

one day, i will kiss someone whose name i know. who i don't want to punch in the face. who i think is at least decently attractive. it might be too much to ask, but i'd hope they're delusional enough to be attracted to me too. and i'll decide if it still feels that slimy if you're not thinking about someone else the entire time.

it's been nine and a half years, and i don't know if that day will ever come.

lines: 19
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Mon Feb 03, 2020 3:32 am
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niteowl says...



Because I don’t want to give up yet

It’s not that I still “love” you.
It’s just that undoing my ties
to your memory
never seemed worth doing
when I was fighting fires
day in and day out
And struggling even to want to survive.

On my weaker days,
I could feel myself missing you
And know that it meant I was unstable.

But now that the girl who loved you
Is almost a stranger,
I have to learn that she was worth loving,
That I am worth loving.

I am a writer and an overthinker,
So it follows that I would take
The bits and pieces of letters
And distorted memories
And try to create something beautiful
From these ashes.

And so I will take this story apart
Bit by bit
Until you’re just a half remembered face
(The way I am to you)
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Sun Feb 09, 2020 8:07 pm
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niteowl says...



One short one and one longer one.

crumbs

there's nothing quite
like tasting breadcrumbs
to make you realize you're starving.

on choices and identity

some days i wish i'd never
decided to study abroad,
took that plain to spain,
gone to drink that night on the beach.

if i'd done things differently,
you would have just been another face
on a campus of thousands.

but then who would i be?
who would i have claimed to love?
what paths would i have taken
and where would they have led me?

ten years of choices later,
that woman would be a stranger to me.

Lines: 16
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Mon Feb 17, 2020 2:42 am
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niteowl says...



writing my way through the pain

in the fall, i wrote letter after letter
for you, as if you deserved my words.

oh honey, i think,
as i look back at her
wondering why you weren't texting back,
why you never made plans beyond
"we should hang out sometime",
why i loved you regardless.

i even wrote a poem for you
after months of forgetting how to write,
and oh how it swings
between pained cliches and self awareness.

even then i knew
i couldn't hold on to someone
who didn't want to be held,
but no matter how smart i was on paper,
i couldn't figure out how to let go.

Lines: 17

Okay y'all, tonight you're getting a bonus poem. This doesn't count for LMS because it was originally written on October 6, 2010. I do believe this is the first poem I wrote about him. Here it is in all its unedited glory:

Spoiler! :

Once I considered myself
a master of the pen,
an expert in this
exquisite bizarre art form
they call poetry.

I have since been humbled
by reading true master pieces
and realizing that I had not
their dedication to this craft.

I fell into a different world
filled with numbers equations
and experiments.
Art became a passing fad,
my poems a symbol
of my dead delusions of grandeur.

But now I lie here
after many months of
silence, again attempting
to express my heart
in a few short stanzas.

For you see, my dear,
I have found new inspiration
in the way my heart soars
as it looks upon you.

Oh, but again I see
how I lacked before,
how easily I fall into
tired cliches. of love

For thousands have sung
of piercing blue eyes
and hearts that ache
and smiles that light up the world.

For while you, my dear,
do indeed have those eyes
and that smile that does
such maddening t
and my heart
does indeed hurt when you are gone.
I should not write
you deserve something
far more original than that.

No puedo creer en ti para siempre,
pero sí puedo creer en ti ahora.
*

For once upon a summer night,
when my soul had been
defeated, weakened by words
so cruel, I found you, and suddenly
my soul felt less alone.

And here I am, struggling to
make our story seem somehow
poetic and graceful, when I
(as you know well) am the
complete opposite.

Cuando suspiramos,
estamos enamorados.
**

Tonight, I sigh for you.

*I can't believe in you forever,
but I can believe in you now.

**When we sigh, we are in love. I am 90% sure this is a quote from something, but Google is not telling me where it's from. I assumed it was something we were reading in class (I was taking Hispanic Literature that semester), but maybe it's just something someone said?
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Mon Feb 24, 2020 1:10 am
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niteowl says...



Okay writing this on my phone so there will be errors lol.

Sometimes, in those desperate fall journals,
I would mention God, as if he had a plan for me,
A plan for us.

Ten years and too many crises later,
I believe only
In the randomness of the universe,
The chaos we emerge from and return to,
Uncertainty the only thing that’s certain.

But that spring, I believed
That I was blessed with something,
That god had a plan for me.
No, not the width-washy stuff of youth pastors,
But the real deal, like the Old Testament prophets
If they had had an internet connection.

The real world tried
To penetrate my brains fortress of madness,
But almost nothing stuck.

When the RAs came to check on me,
I told them I’d be just fine,
If only I could see you.

The next time you heard from me
was a text informing you I was in the psych ward
As if that was a perfectly normal place to be
Because I was still too mad to be ashamed.

24 lines
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Mon Mar 02, 2020 4:10 am
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niteowl says...



Oh look another last minute entry who knew?

It’s easy enough
For me to say
You don’t deserve
A single word I gave you.

But how many love songs
Were written for those
Who would go on to break the writer’s heart?
How many love poems
We’re dedicated to those
Who wouldn’t or couldn’t return that love?

If the story doesn’t have a happy ending,
Does that mean it wasn’t worth telling?

The love may not be real,
But I write for the memories,
The days when I needed someone
And you were there and I felt safe,
Because it’s my story
And it’s worth telling,
Worth remembering.

19 lines
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Thu Mar 05, 2020 3:57 pm
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niteowl says...



31

I thought it was your birthday today.

I remembered because you're a Pisces,
which matches my Mars sign,
so astrologically speaking, it makes sense
that my passions were directed your way,
even though I'm a Gemini.

Facebook says it's Sunday.
I am relieved that I was wrong,
but mad that I was only four days off,
because it means my mind
still thinks that's worth holding on to,
even as it forgets
so many more important things.

If I engaged
in the 21st century ritual
of saying Happy Birthday,
wishing you well
across wires and computer screens,
would you respond?

Or would it mean as little to you
as it should to me?

Lines: 21

(For context, the title is the age he will be turning)
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Tue Mar 17, 2020 2:32 am
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niteowl says...



well i'm almost finally finally out of words

if i have learned anything from this,
it's that the more i write about you,
the less i need to.

the logician sees it all now:
why i clung to you like you were sturdy
(because i was drowning and you were close enough to grab),
why i kept wanting you when you weren't mine to want
(because desire is always my drug of choice),
why i listened for signs in radio silence
(because it distracted me from loneliness),
why i still miss you when i feel crazy
(because my insanity loves to romanticize the past),
why i took so long to move on
(because there were so many other battles to fight).

but one thing the logician doesn't understand
is why i had to write this all down.

because for years the poet
has tried to juggle all the words,
all the fragments of you left inside my head,
and when i told her to stop
and make something out of them,
she cried in relief.

this isn't goodbye,
and i won't forget you
(i can't, and i don't want to),
but for now, maybe i'm moving
into a new decade, a new season,
and i can finally leave that summer behind.

A/N: I'm officially out of LMS because I got lazy last week and forgot to submit. I took this as a sign that MAYBE it is time to stop. But there's still fun fragments and stuff from before I started this project that I couldn't use for LMS (because they were written before LMS started) that I'd like to play with at some point. So this thread will still get updated periodically. Maybe I'll even bust out the keyboard and write some of the song ideas I have properly :D

Title credit: Jason Mraz "You and I Both"
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Thu Apr 02, 2020 4:00 am
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niteowl says...



As I stated, I'll probably still update this from time to time. Copied from NaPo because I decided to write about the bit I found in my journal about I stepped in dog crap and he told me it was good luck. 16+ for language.


our inciting incident, half-remembered

Spoiler! :


as i read the fragments
of the story i never told,
i discovered what i'd forgotten
about the night i started to love you,
that cursed birthday
where the crowd i invited
only made me feel more lonely.

somewhere on the foreign hills,
i stepped in dog shit
and you said that some guy told you
that was good luck,
and for a moment i felt safe
because if i had nothing else,
i had you.

it's the butterfly effect,
if the butterfly was a dog shitting
somewhere in northern spain
for a drunk girl to step in
and find it noteworthy enough
to write into her plot line.

that glorious detail was forgotten
in the haze of longing and madness
and trying to survive the last ten years,
but looking back, i see
how it translated into that feeling
of "i'm okay, it'll be okay"
and that's what i craved
when i was missing you.

and maybe it was good luck after all,
because it brought me you
and gave me this story to tell.

"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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Sun Jul 26, 2020 6:07 am
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niteowl says...



the curse of facebook memories

on this day ten years ago
we were tagged in a picture
with the boyfriend girls
inside a dublin tourist bar,
you in front, me behind,
straining to fit in
(what else is new?)

and across the years i see
those eyes, that smile,
and in two heartbeats
i am twenty once again
and i can taste the heartache.

i shake my head to snap out of it,
because i am thirty now
and even if i have never found
a love that's worth the words i write,
at least i don't think i love you anymore.

still, i can't help but wonder
if i ever see you again,
which one of us would you meet?

the boyfriend girls (18+ for language/sexual content)

Spoiler! :

there were four of them,
each with someone back home
they swore would be forever,
even if some thought
they were too young to know that
(perhaps, but at least two of them
went the distance,
so who am i to judge?)

they were quite lovely
inside and out
and they didn't shame me
for the horrific crime of existing.

but still,
when they would talk about
all the love and sex
that girls like me don't get to have,
it hurt even more
that the one i wanted to hug and kiss and fuck
was literally close enough to touch,
but you might as well have been an ocean away.

we stopped at a souvenir shop
for claddagh rings
because of course they wanted
a souvenir for their true loves.
i played along and got one
in hopes that someday someone
would have the honor
of turning it upside down
(i had to get it cut off
many years later.
it's still in a bag somewhere,
un-repaired and un-turned).

when they went lingerie shopping,
i should have joined you
in the hostel room where you were watching the game,
but instead i wallowed in the room
where one of them had puked the night before,
attempting to read,
but mostly pondering
how i'd look in lingerie
once i lost the weight
and if you'd ever want
to see me in it.


mad libs love stories

people are
the worst kind of nouns
(arrogant bullies who hate for no reason,
friends who forgot your secrets,
lovers who stopped loving
without bothering to tell the one they used to love).

so instead i cling to places
(like spanish steps,
like madhouse halls,
like campus woods)

and things
(like souvenir shotglasses,
like earrings that lost their mate long ago,
like journals a smarter girl would burn).

in our game of mad libs,
did I (verb) too much,
or not enough?
was i (adjective)
or (opposite adjective)?
Do you remember me (adverb)
or think of me when you eat (food)?

everyone's answers
to the same story are different,
and i know i'll never know yours.
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci

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If all pulled in one direction, the world would keel over.
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