to the dreamers

march epiphanies

titled as such because the following thoughts were realized in march. a bit long, but worth the read :)

---

i want
anonymity
the feeling of
vodka-scented
breath
ghosting across
my neck
waking up in a
black dress
the remnants of
last night's
perfume
and last night's
conquest
splattered across
my skin
like bloodstains
to run through
moonlit streets
filled with
darkened store windows
to swing around
lampposts
drunkenly
with people i've never
seen before
with people i'll never
see again
to hear the sharp
peals
of laughter
pierce the night sky
to see the stars
glittering above us like
bullet wounds
to feel the firm beat
of a heart
next to mine
as someone leans in
and above the
thundering
of blood in my veins
to hear
ever so faintly
the distant sounds
of cars
driving away

i want
familiarity
warm sugar and
cinnamon
kisses
dropped along
bare arms
like change
from a hole in your
jacket pocket
gathered up by
subway stragglers
the way the
cool air
dries away the
impression of lips
to dance to old records
swaying gently
in the lamplit
living room
the fire
crackling softly
in the background
like a mother's
lullaby
to press fingertips
to fingertips
to trail them down
heated skin
in the summertime
under the
shining golden
sun
to sit down at the
kitchen table
laughing over an old
inside joke
as we sift through
mail
and eat leftover
lasagna
from a date
neither of us
quite enjoyed as much
as eating at home

i want
recklessness
to love young
and die young too
the latter would
certainly
be worth the former
to scream the lyrics
along with the
radio
as i whip down the
highway
on a motorbike
my arms wrapped
tightly
around a
leather-jacket waist
to spin fast
under club lights
red and blue and purple
flashing across
a face
i know as well as
my own
to be invited to
every party
from here to new york
and to
attend
every
single
one
with the same
calloused hand
in mine
short skirts and
elegant ballgowns
cigarette smoke and
mirrors
not because it's an
illusion
but because we've become
disillusioned
with reality
and we no longer bother
living in it

i want
finality
to live in a
cookie-cutter
suburban house
with my
cookie-cutter
suburban husband
long drives to work
with one of those despicable
audiobooks
playing loud in my
earphones
fingers tapping impatiently
on the steering wheel
walking into an office
soft kisses when i arrive home
two children and a dog
friday night dates
when we could afford a
babysitter
to look into eyes
that remind me
of a time
long ago
when we might've been
younger
when we might've
traveled
and seen things
and done things
that we laugh about now
in our age and our
comfort
to reminisce
over morning coffee
and afternoon tea
and safeway-bought
cakes
about the past
that once was
about the
easy
future
that lies before us

perhaps i cannot
have
all of these things
and when push
comes to shove
i know what i will choose
cookie-cutter houses
and familiar love
people i can trust
people i can depend on
but maybe that is where
my unhappiness lies
for i haven't yet
reached
the fork in the road
but i have already
determined for myself
which path i will be
taking
which life i will be
choosing—
and it is, undoubtedly,
the one i do not want.