conversation

truth/revision/decision

I’ve written things that were true at the time that are no longer true.
I won’t go back and change them, because when I wrote them they were true.
I’ve written things that I thought were true at the time, that turned out not to be true.
I’ve written to figure out the truth.
I’ve written to conceal the truth.
No revisions on the basis of truth. I can revise in a writer-ly craft way, and do – but if I changed things because they were no longer true, I wouldn’t have any time for new writing.
And some things just can’t be revised.
“Technicalities”? Rewriting it to reflect the present would likely mean scrapping it entirely. (Due to the fact that we’re dating and suchforth.) But the whole concept of revising to reflect the now is incredibly flawed, because that was somewhat of a… snapshot, I suppose… of my mental state at that point in time, and how I feel now doesn’t actually change how I felt then.

And this is all true.

should’ve

A kiss.

We both thought about it.

We both almost did.

And now we’re . . . 2,682 miles apart, I think. (Will be 882 in the fall.)

But we think we might try it.

a bunch of different people

I love you, you know.

A year later, I want what you offered. Is it too late?

I don’t know, I just don’t know.

The more I talk to you the less I want to.

Stop using that tone. Just stop.

I lie to you with increasing frequency.

You’re a sweetie.

I’m glad I got the guts to talk to you, you’re awesome.

I used to have the biggest crush on you.

I miss you.

I miss our conversations.

Please leave me alone.

Thank you.

“Technicalities” (written last year)

I shouldn’t have said what I said about horses
horses and riders
in castles of air
I shouldn’t’ve dropped hints all over the ground
where they could be found by
anyone who’d pick them up
I shouldn’t just wait
until it’s too late
it’s already happened
I already have
I shouldn’t have wished
so imprecisely
that’s how wishes go wrong
why haven’t we learned?
we’ll always be burned
by the gift of three wishes
it’s just like a fire and never a warning and
there’s no returning it
so you get what you wish for
but not what you want

—–

I wrote this poem last year, based in part off of a journal entry. Posting it here because I never put it anywhere public. (I did submit it to my school’s litmag, but that hasn’t come out yet this year.)

I’ll try to write something more later, but I have selection day for the school dance concert for a lot of the day. Much excitement! I choreographed a solo, let’s see if it gets in . . .