Mar 23

Silent towns

Big, wet, end-of-March snowflakes muffle the sounds of the already-silent town.
38 (or more) signs paper the windows of the stores on Main Street.
Closed until further notice
So sorry
See you soon

But there's no one to see.
No one walks the streets anymore, especially when the snow is wet as rain and it piles on shoulders like burdens that come right back after you brush them off.
The town was already about to be ravaged by unnecessary construction.
Small businesses were already suffering.
Every couple of windows there were already signs.
Building for sale
Space for rent 
Closed for the season

Now there are signs in every window because 
We can't breathe the same air 

The world wants this town to be silent.
It was already breaking
But in ways you could see.
Now, there is only
Mar 04

apologies from the ocean

I didn't mean to 
It was an accident I swear
The people were so sad
I swallowed up the ship I know I'm sorry
But the world could use more salt water, more tears, more of me
More ocean
Ocean is such a beautiful word and it makes such a beautiful world
I didn't mean to hurt her, I'm sorry (Jack)(Tom)(Elbridge)(Matthew)(Will)(George)(Elijah)
It's not my fault that she froze, that she couldn't breathe
It was dark the pilot couldn't see there was an iceberg I'm sorry the ship sank I'm sorry she drowned
I'm sorry you drowned
That was your choice, though
Not mine
I would give you back your breath if I could but then where would we be
I would be lonely without your souls
I'm sorry you were heartbroken, (Jack)(Tom)(Elbridge)(Matthew)(Will)(George)(Elijah)
But you jumped in the water and I was gracious enough to take you in

Mar 04

it's only an illusion

It's only an illusion
I'm not who you think I am, even though I know that sometimes
I seem like the person I know you think you know I am

You're wrong
I'm wrong
You're so sure that I'm sure
You're sure of yourself because you're sure about me
Who I am
What I do How I seem How I speak Why I care What I wear Who I want to be What I want to be Why I chose this (I didn't) you think you know
In fact you know you know but you know wrong
This is only an illusion 
A conversation that I'm creating in my head for you to create in your head so that you can create what's in my head so that I can prove you wrong
Because I need to prove somone wrong 
I don't have to be right as long as I can show you that you don't know everything about me about you
You're an illusion trust me I don't want you to be alone but you have to know that you can't keep people close
By hurting them

Feb 27

the five states of us

You and I have five settings: 

We talk about anything and everything and everything's grandmother and we just keep building and building and asking and answering and wondering and relishing our similiarities for hours on end, even after the batteries of my fairy lights run out 

We argue like we hate each other (when everyone knows that we don't), throw insults (but we don't throw them too hard), bicker over every detail, purposefully misinterpret, and create blatant mayhem. I hit you in the face with a snow ball (by accident, I can never aim properly) and you pretend you're dying 

We sit in unbreakable silence while at least one of us (maybe both) is trying to think of something intelligent to say, and it's so painful but at least I'm sitting next to you

Feb 09

Especially when they land on you

I like snowflakes.
They look like they should be warm and soft and you touch them and
they're gone.
You were too warm.
They were unprepared.
They weren't ready for your incredible heat,
your incredible power.
You touch them 
and they disappear.

I like snowflakes,
but especially when they land on people's pom pom hats 
knit by their grandmothers
or themselves
and when they rest on people's eyelashes and hair.
I like them because they're temporary and 
you can only stare at them for so long,
then they sink into the hair or the hats or the eyelashes and you can't enjoy them anymore.

I like snowflakes,
especially when they land on you,
because it gives me an excuse to stare.
Feb 09

Because I'm Too Scared to Ask

Is it impossible for you to love me

You are the only person that I am awkward around the only person
Who twists my tongue in a knot why
Can I not let go of the notion of you

Every song every smell every memory everything
Reminds me of you and my awkwardness and what 
Am I doing
We are too awkward too quiet too much 
Eye contact not enough conversation I love you can't you figure that out
Sometimes I have to create a mantra for myself to repeat over
And over again in my head
i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you 
Becasue it hurts less that way
I can pretend that I wouldn't take a bullet for you that you aren't the most important person
In the world to me I can pretend that I couldn't get high off the smell of you
You look at me and smile and talk about how shiny my lips are often enough that I know you're staring  

I say so many idiotic things around you
Feb 07

Notes From a Field Hospital VIII

August 8th, 1916

I found the matron and asked her if I could go on leave, and she agreed! I leave on a train to Fort-Mahon-Plage, where I will take a ferry back to Brighton (on the coast of lovely England), and then I will take a train home to North Yorkshire. Before I leave I must set my affairs in order, and that includes writing letters to Mother, Beatrice, Edwin, and Edwin’s mother. I have done this, and it brought me such joy to tell them that I am coming home. 

I feel more like myself now, though the days are still grey and lonely, but they are numbered. I leave only a week after Sophie, and I will be able to make conversation with Dorothy and the others for that long. I am able to conduct myself in a more cheerful manner, and I am sure that this helps the soldiers and nurses alike. If we are cheerful and optimistic it rubs off on the soldiers, which helps to heal them. 
Feb 07

Notes From a Field Hospital VII

August 1st, 1916

A month ago this battle began. Still it rages, but the speed of the flow of soldiers has slowed, and now we are less exhausted. I am always exhausted now, tired of pain and worry and doubt. I miss Frederick, and even Theodore, every minute of every single day. The weeks drag by, and there is nothing good or new but Sophie. She is the only thing that keeps me in a good state of mind. Her friendship is constant, and I have asked for her address so that I may write her once we return home. 
Feb 07

Notes From a Field Hospital VI

July 5th, 1916

The slaughter continues. Sophie is still strong and brave, and I still relive Theodore’s death a hundred times a day. There is no rest, there is no peace. There is only blood and sickness and infection. And the ever looming possibility that the next blonde or auburn soldier is Frederick or Edwin. How long will this continue? I miss everyone terribly. I still cannot sleep. 

July 7th, 1916

This cannot be real. This is a sick fragment of imagination, I will wake up in a cold sweat any moment. This. Is. Not. Real. The unimaginable, terrible thing that happened today is not real. There is nothing left for me to do in this day but cry. The worst has happened. 

July 10th, 1916
Feb 07

Notes From a Field Hospital V

June 22nd, 1916

Apparently the newer nurses (they have come from all over) must take retraining course to make sure that we do everything exactly in the way that we are expected to, and that we know exactly how to conduct ourselves and work the (extremely large) sluice room. This means that I shall not be able to recount my days as often as I would like. A letter from Mother today, but still no word from Edwin. I am scared for him. 

June 28th, 1916