Noteworthy

i

am

noteworthy

even if you refuse to take notes

i 

am

fireworks

even if you close your eyes

i

am

breathtaking

even if you hold yours in

i 

am

noteworthy

no matter what you say

xo evelyn

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Blue Wind Burning

there's a blue wind burning

with our hopes and our sighs

and the blood beneath our skin and the tears behind our eyes

there's a blue wind burning

with our fears and our cries

and the sobs of those of us with the misfortune to survive

there's a blue wind burning

cursing us to stay alive

unless you drew the lucky straw

in which case you can die.

xo evelyn

hat tip

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Your Blood and Mine

your blood and mine,

it is red red

flowing rushing

your blood and mine,

it is human human

soul and heart

your blood and mine,

it is runny runny

wet and slick

your blood and mine,

it only runs so thick.

xo evelyn

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Reading Between the Lines

i am fine [the sadness is choking]

it’s okay [can barely breathe]

everything’s good [can barely move]

just a bad day [the perfect time to die]

xo evelyn

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The Finite Forever

a gaping black hole in our tunnel of white

the end is in sight

but we dance and we kiss in a pure rush of bliss

for ours is a finite forever.

xo evelyn

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The Seven

she is waking up next to your lover while the sun streams through the window. she is frying morning eggs and battling the toaster, coffee on the front porch and baby blue skies. she is sunday.

he is empty theaters and dust curling in the air, popcorn squeaking as it's squelched beneath your foot. he is monologues shouted into an empty room and arias aired to dead space. he is monday.

she is highlighters and graph paper and calligraphy; she is neat buns with pencils stuck through them and constantly worrying frowns. she is organized, prioritized, and systemized. she is tuesday.

he is midweek blues, laying on your couch and wondering how it's not the weekend already. he is the rain pat-pat-patting as it falls on the pavement outside, and he is cloudy light filtering through the window blinds. he is wednesday.

she is stardust and wanderlust, maps in her hand and planets in her eyes. she is sitting by the train tracks just because. she is colorful road maps with push pins stuck in them and hours spent stargazing out her window, thankful she has the chance to be a part of something as spectacular as the universe. she is thursday.

he is flashing neon lights and beating hearts, pumping arms, full of adrenaline. he is city lights reflected in the puddles on the pavement, messy make out sessions in the backseat and laughing until your throat is hoarse. he is friday.

she is cobblestone streets and overgrown gardens, vintage clothing and cat-eye sunglasses. she is the sounds of jazz wafting through the summer air and nodding hello to sleepy stars. she is saturday.

which are you?

xo evelyn

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She Needed a Hero, So That's What She Became

You told me that I had to change, so I did.

I pounded away from the sea, once bright and sparkling blue with your affection and now a cold, grey hurricane, ready to dash me to bits on the rocky shore. I toiled through Arctic cold, brain turned to ice and fingers numb like novocaine. I slaved my way through the Sahara, the very skin boiling off my back as I collapsed in the endless ocean of dunes. I pulled myself up the highest mountain, lungs choking and brain withering from lack of oxygen. And everywhere I went, I left the little pieces of myself that you did not like behind. I buried my books in the snow drifts of the north and watched my music be swept away by a desert wind. I chipped and cut and carved out all the parts of me you found “undesirable”, until my once uniquely beautiful, symmetric soul was a misshapen, grotesque shell of its former self. The quiet beauty of the stained glass window of the soul is gone - now it is shattered, because you have thrown a torch through and broken the glass.

I came dragging myself back to you, only able to keep going by my sheer willpower. And yet your sea - your sea was focused on other people now, no longer me. Your whales and mermaids and colorful seashells were someone else’s to find and treasure now - and I was chased out, once again, by the hurricane.

I tried to think of what to do - but it was as if my brain had ceased to function other than for the thought of you, for in the past few agonizing years, you and winning back your laughter and smile had consumed all my thoughts.

And excruciatingly slowly, the thought came to me that I needed a new hero.

So I became my own.

xo evelyn

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Summer Sort of Love

their summer sort of love is crazy pool parties & sandy beach sex,

motorcycle kisses and hot red lipstick.

it's midnight passion mixed with LA adrenaline
and messy lovemaking in the closet at a party.

but that is not our summer sort of love.

our summer sort of love is picnics in your yard as it’s bathed in smoky streaks of gold from a setting sun.

our summer sort of love is cuddling on my couch and sipping tea as the hot july rains fall outside.

our summer sort is falling lazily asleep next to each other in the park. we don’t try to be romantic by pointing out clouds in the shape of hearts - we just cuddle and try to be us.

for isn't that the best summer sort of love?

xo evelyn

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