I could really use a coke.

I could really use a coke.

I would love a day without any responsibility.

Have a sweet reunion with my bed, without having to part early.

I want to see the ocean from a different view, from a different place.

Let's read books that we have never heard of.

I want to be surrounded by the forest trees who know more than me. Who are old and wise.

Let's drive with no destination and make friends with people who speak a different language.

Throw rocks through the windows of that abandoned house.

Let's visit old cemetery's and pretend we know all about the lives of the people who are buried there.

Let's kiss.

I want to jump into the water without any clothing.

I don't want to get out of the bath.

Let's drink coca cola from a glass bottle as we lay on a bed in a grungy hotel room, because that's all we can afford. We would be so happy in that place.

I could really use a coke.

-S.B.

Old sweaters and Annoying habits.

I like the way your hair curls when it gets longer.
It makes me think that everything about you isn't perfect. Perfects not bad, but perfects not what I want.

I like the way that you annoy me. 

I like the way that your hands feel against my face. I like that way your hands feel when I trace them with my fingers. 

I like the way your heartbeat sounds. It sounds like the way everyone's sounds, but I like it because its your heart. I love your heart.

I like the way your facial hair scratches me when you give me a hug. Its like putting on that old sweater.

I like the way that you talk to me about things that I have no idea what you're talking about. I like it because I can see the light in your eyes when you do. 

All that I am is because of you.

S.B.

Check in the "Lost and Found" bin.

What happened to not giving a damn?

lust for my bones, love my heart.

My bones. 

My bones crave to move. They want to walk the different textures of this earth, swim in the water, run in the sand, climb the mountains, walk the streets of old towns. 

My bones what to be broken so that they can understand what it's like to heal. They want to know what its like to be new again, to be stronger.

My bones want me to drink milk but they don't understand how much I hate milk. 

My bones Hold me up, the are the frame of me. The only thing that will remain when I'm gone. They want to have a life before we leave each other. 

My heart. 

My heart is mad at me. I know its mad at me because it is pounding on my skin from inside of me. 

Usually I only know my heart is there when I am laying quietly in my bed with my head on my pillow, I can hear the soft thumping of it. "I just want you to know I'm still here, I still work." or when you say the words, "I can hear your heart beat." 

It's Mad because I don't know how to talk when I'm upset. It doesn't like holding all of that emotion for me. It gets tired from that.

D I E T

I am living on a diet of you and the moon.

The moon is my best friend, I am lost in the moon and its many craters. Don't come looking for me because I don't want to be found.

I am living on a diet of you and the moon.

YOU, oh YOU, you make me quake with laughter and smiles and tears and... and I don't want you to be jealous that the moon is my best friend, because you are my best friend but just in a different way.

I am living on a diet of you and the moon. 

I count on seeing the moon every night, even when its a new moon I know she is there. She is watching over me. 

I am living on a diet of you and the moon.

You are beautiful and here. I can touch your knees and I can see your shoulders. I love your shoulders. We can eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches together.

I am living on a diet of you and the moon.

I have never been healthier. 

Something Personal.

I have always been afraid of death.

I listened to that voice mail from your mom about 20 times in a row because I didn't believe it. 

When I called you later that day, it was the only time I heard you cry.

Your soft delicate skin being pulled tight around your aching bones.

Who knew you had so many freckles under that long, thick hair of yours?

Even as the cancer took your body, that selfish cancer, I was always jealous of your spirit. 
I was always jealous of your beauty. 

I never heard you complain, not even once. 

"One more month and I'll be done with chemo!" One week and two days later, you were gone. 

Your little sister called me at 9:00 PM on a Thursday to come over to your house, I knew something was wrong, but I just couldn't allow my self to think like that. 

Your family sat me down, your wonderful family.

"She fought really hard but she couldn't do it anymore. She loved you so much." These are the only words I remember form that conversation. 

My lungs collapsed. 

It was the first time that my heart has ever been broken.



I knew, driving home that night, that I needed to tell everyone, but how? What am I supposed to say?

So I didn't. I really regret that. It hurts me. 




I didn't go to sleep that night because I was afraid of what I would dream of.

The hardest phone call I had to make was when I called your sister to tell her couldn't speak at your funeral.
I so badly wanted to but I couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to get a word out. This hurts me too.  

All I want is to hear your voice one more time. Hear your laugh that gets a little too loud sometimes. 

We are taught in Sunday school what heaven is going to be, but I want YOU to tell me what heaven is like because maybe that would make dying a little less scary.

I have always been afraid of death.

F E A R

Its more than the shadows in the closet or the monsters under the bed.

It pulls at my skin.
It makes my heart race.
It forces me to keep my eyes open.
It feels like I have been running forever and I can't catch my breath, but I haven't moved at all.
I can feel it crawling inside me.
It is everything in me.
It is my empty spaces that worry they will never be filled.
It is the thought of not seeing you again.
It is the dark room that is not making any sound.
It is being left alone in my own head.

The fear is pumping through my blood.

I OVER THINK AND IT CAUSE FEAR IN EVERYTHING I DO, SEE, AND HEAR.
I can only imagine the worst.

I am full of fear. I fear that nothing is going to happen. I fear that something is going to happen and I will not have any control. I am afraid of you, but I'm more afraid of me.

-S.B.