Saturday, January 22, 2011


you carefully remove the glass top of my heart. "can you fix it?" i say.

you don't answer, just reach inside and plant asiatic lilies so that whenever i see them i'll think of you. you start to sing.

you save a place in my heart in a white walled room. there are bay windows and the smell of the ocean and if the sky is clear you could see for a hundred miles. you say you'll come back.

and your name is written in silver paint on the walls, in the walls, through the walls.

careful. tiptoe. don't break it.

Sunday, January 16, 2011


i go to camp because he's there. it's a little awkward at first, but then it's fine. i don't know how i went two weeks without seeing him.

on saturday afternoon we play a game. we have to walk to different areas of the park and do different activities. in one of them we have to walk up the stairs blindfolded, holding on to the person in front of us. i was scared of falling.

he was right behind me. "don't worry," he said. "if you fall, i'll catch you."

i am falling. head over heels.

catch me.