If

What if's paved
the bittersweetness
of our Polaroids
tucked away for friend reunions
and secret toughts
of other loves
that never
were.

Proper Credits

Oh btw last two pictures are to be credited to http://pretty-as-a-picture.deviantart.com/ who is awesome and inspires most of the time.

Summer again

She jumped off the window, she landed on her mid-summer's dress. She couldn't care less about her soaked threads or her bare footed condition. She ran for hours, years it seemed. The fence of the adjacent state in sight, the little bugs some called butterflies crawled all over her belly, she embraced them as she continued towards the blue house. She woke to the warm smell of coffee as her sleep-numbed toes wiggled out the protection of the bedsheets. But she never left those summer she treasured in boxes, in Polaroids of girls and boys in summer lakes, in hand threaded bracelets of best friends and yesteryears of crushes and summer flings. She knew well enough her life had become a never ending summer of warm feelings, bed sheets, coffee pots, worn out yellowish pictures, and sun. She was running through wet fields and sandy beaches and wooden panels in summer homes. She was her again. She remembered him and smiled. He stumbled into the room, greeting her with a coffee mug, "g'morning" he said. She hid her face in the bedsheets, blushing again, cause she was fifteen again. For her it was summer again.

She had summer written all over her face

She had summer written all over her face. The feeling that you have nothing better to do than to be right here, worry free, letting time pass, that was her. Clear eyed, summer scent and wildly free hair. I was lost in her the minute she noticed me. Im still waiting to see how much this summer can last, it seems that trees hint of yellow leaves but the green is just overwhelming all my senses. And there i was, twelve, jumping over fences and picking up apples from trees and drinking water from cold mountain ponds, and my grandma calling me and my cousin for dinner, and the girls we tought we liked, and the berries we picked in our way up to the house, and then im back to her eyes, to her smile, to her insanely soothing voice and im back to the house with wooden floors and creaking sounds, and the sun setting at nine PM and the picnics we had with distant spanish girls, cause we were twelve, and i'm back to her lips and to her summer scent and to her sight. Oh she had summer, my summer written all over her face

Did I say too much?

You have no idea how i want to hear you sing and hear you laugh and laugh again and laugh at your jokes and laugh at the way you sleep almost everywhere and how you have no idea what big words mean and how i want to be in bonfires by the beach with you and on snowy afternoons and watch you drink hot cocoa and watch you drink coffee and ask you what kind of coffee you like and if you like coffee at all and what movies make you scream and what movies make you cry and who makes you cry and who makes you laugh and who was your first kiss and if you want me to be your last kiss and who you kissed in between and if you like to sing in the shower and if you like orange juice or if you like apple juice or if you like apple pie or cherry pie or pecan pie or if you like pie at all and I wanna spend time with your family and meet your friends and kiss you you have no idea how badly i want to kiss you.

Here we go again.

What is this fascination we humans have for betting on the one thing that is not sure at all? One sided love, destructive relationships, friends trying to become more than just that, that dreadful little word. Just like a child does exactly the opposite of what his mother told him, we follow our heart blindly, not noticing the multiple threats that come buzzing inches from us. We never notice, we never noticed anything else. So what can we really do? Ignore the one thing that screams human on our body? The one thing that makes us more than just a bag of bones and flesh? We tend to lose it anyway, one way or another. I've decided I'd rather lose my head at an incoming projectile of disappointment than to keep it and die without any human in me. I'd rather take my chances once again. We never learn, or maybe we learn to never give up. I'm going against all odds, but it just feels so right, I can feel it in my bones, I can feel it in my heart. Here we go again.

Holding on/back.

I can't hold my breath much longer. The air, my lungs, my truthfullness is about to burst into a colorful picture of my dreams and realizations of you and me, maybe, maybe just me. And i can't help but think that you are not for me, or that I'm not for you. But we don't seem to notice, our talks show none of that, my stupid jokes, your graceful laugh, and oh your hair. If only i could just give myself up, like I said before without holding back for you or me or us or whatever. I hate holding back, I do it because i don't know how to do this anymore, more like i never understood how to. But maybe you could help me, don't hold me back.