cleaning

I am drowning in notebooks, blank pages to fill; I’m thirsting for ideas, I’m parched.

I’ve been cleaning my room some (a noteworthy occasion) and in going through a box from this year found some fragments in a notebook. Since I haven’t written anything of note lately, here are some:

yes, I’ll write about you
if you let me hold your watch
to feel the cool textured metal
against my skin
and yes, I’ll let you see
if you tell me what you’re thinking
when you sit with that look on your face
so yes
I’ll write about you
if you let me borrow your pen
and yes, I’ll read it to you
if you let me peek in your head
and yes, I’ll write about you
if you let me see you
—
That one’s about a friend who’s always seemed kinda enigmatic. He’s a little quiet sometimes. Fun fact: he was sitting next to me in tutorial when I wrote that. Don’t think he noticed.
—
hey
would you let me
remember why
I felt that way?
it’d be hard
just to remember
so don’t worry that I’ll start feeling
again
—
No clue who that one’s about actually, besides presumably an ex, or at least ex-crush.
—
remember what the stars were like that night as seen through the steam rising up from the roofless shower post-beach as the water lent warmth to a chilled body… remember the feel of a hot shower no roof in the cold rain so the drops mixed and the towel was damp before it dried a single inch of skin…
—
That one is actually just about showering in the outdoor shower at my grandparents’ house on Cape Cod. No symbolism. Just showers.

Oh, also, I passed my road test! Hooray.