signs her letters in x's and o's

When I grow up, I want to do grown up things. I want a grown up job in a big, working in a grown up building. I want to talk about politics, international trade and global warming. I want to become educated on stock options and 401k investments. All the while, I will run the city in my Manolos laughing with all of my grown up friends. I feel like 16 was only yesterday, and yet here I am. 23 years old and still wondering, "am I an adult yet?"

I have been thinking a lot about responsibility, and the so-called "perks" of being an adult. According to my age, I should know a thing or two about managing my life in the up scaled, grown-up way. In reality? I don't know a damn thing. I fake maturity nearly every day; I work, I bank, and I enjoy cosmos at happy hour. I even have a weekly date with the dry cleaners - but beyond the bullshit, I am still just a girl playing dress up. I have accepted the fact that I am a poor decision maker (Because I HATE making decisions, and I have a hard time making commitments. Ick.) and as a result of this I find myself pressed to juggle the boring, yet fundamental and essential, aspects of life. (IE appointment planning, meeting deadlines, and organizing all of the above.) I often find myself facing ridiculous and completely STUPID problems. I asked a girlfriend recently if she though that other "adults" our age face similar problems. Her response? Probably not. Which got my mind rolling in another direction - do we create our own drama/anxiety/bullshit? ABSOLUTELY! Pardon the cliche, but shit rolls downhill and you can't run forever. At some point you have to stop and breathe and it is at that exact moment that the mound of avoided responsibility will seize you by the throat and drown you in consequences. My mother would call these spectacular displays of life "lessons in humility" - which I think is just a smug way of saying, "I told you so". Apparently the first rule of entering adulthood is learning how to prioritize responsibility. Funny, at what step do I learn the responsibility? I find the curriculum to be very exhausting.

I am still just a nerdy girl with glasses, standing on my tiptoes at the adult table. I giggle at everything and ask too many questions. I still use lip smackers chapstick and wear band t-shirts to bed. I throw temper tantrums when I don't get my way and I still think that underneath every layer of arrogance and selfishness lies a decent human being: I have faith in people. My view of the surrounding world is altered - like I am looking through a kaleidoscope. My reality is bombarded and sugar coated with my own wants, dreams, and perceptions. (Through my eyes, the world runs on high-fives and cherry coke.) Too bad I am not 13 anymore.

Sunrise.

Sunlight slips slowly through chiffon,
blanketing my room in a warm crimson hue.
I spent so much time on those windows.
The light dances across mirrored surfaces,
pausing momentarily upon each
only to vanish seconds later.
You're not awake yet.
You're somewhere far away, and that small
smile that adorns your lips - your so soft
and lush and perfect lips - is a testament to your happiness.
And I can't help but admire this picture that you paint -
so soft, and flawless, and content - I am infatuated with
your beauty.
Your hair is curly now, unruly and natural.
Those ebony tresses cover the ivory linen like dark
chocolate;
cascading the perfect features of your face and your
pillow.
I smile, and count the freckles kissed on your nose
and across your cheeks.
You hate that I find them sexy.

You are so vulnerable, laying amongst down and silk
and so far away with your dreams.
Dreams that I know replicate me, our life, and our love.
You are so open with your adoration for me,
that the mere thought of this affection turns my cheeks hot.
Love is unknowing. It is raw, blind, and ignorant of
boundaries.
You are my living, breathing example.
Your innocence, it is perplexing, and fascinating
and real.
I envy you for this.

I want to kiss you, but in doing so I know that you will
wake 0
and smile, that smile that melts my soul and reddens my cheeks.
It is in sleep that I confide in you. I lower my guard and the wall
that I built disappears. In your sleep, I open my heart.
But the morning glare turns you restless, and slowly,
slowly you open those amber, almond shaped eyes.
And as your lips brush my cheek my wall returns.
Brick by brick, concealing my own vulnerability.
But tomorrow i only a dream away
and knowing this I smile.

Yesterday.

A thousand promises remain sewn to these lips -

words forgotten. Confessions and apologies bled

together in a mosaic profession of love. and devotion.

these promises, these fragmented utterances of exposure

echo through me, beating at my head. my heart.

my soul.

yet never straying from my lips.

their resonance is crippling;

their presence keeps playing this scene before me:

you are there and i am there and we are there at that place-

the place between yesterday and today

before the fighting and the resentment

at that time when all that was seen was you. and me.

and it was good.

i remember this: the air is thick with that new lust-

that lust that quickly consumed us and whispered life

into love.

that love that synced the beating of our hearts

and set blinders to our egos and to our fears.

i remember this yesterday, as it is still a part of me.

stuck far beneath the brigaded surface of spite -

the protective layer that still remembers.

these scenes are momentary, teasing memory

only for a second - promising encore, only to vanish

with that love.

that love.

that love that will never be.

These promises remain sewn to my lips, the words

that gave hope to a future, but remained silent to their

giver;

her pride too great, her remorse too heavy, and her heart

too bruised.

My eyes will not close, my lungs will not breathe

my screams will not deafen their mockery.

the last falls silent,

and gathering the shrapnel of this heart, my pride,

i turn to tomorrow and slip away.