(I know this isn’t a poem, sort of, but It is indeed great.)
Things that confuse me:
Math equations. Break ups of my favorite couples. Books I’m too dumb to understand. Fifteen minutes of fame. The scent of flowers. The existence of Mondays. Classical poetry. The smell of coffee at this hour — you’re unemployed. Your side of the bed is empty. Where are you?
Things that make me mad:
Faded friendships. Mean people. Uncomfortable shoes. The familiar stink of public restrooms. Leftovers scattered everywhere. The ants that are feasting on them. Your dirty clothes on the floor. Coffee stains on my favorite table. The fact that I can’t find you right now. Did you leave?
Things that make me want to cry:
Films with devoted lovers who don’t end up together. Books with well-meaning protagonists who die in the end. TV shows with awful dialogue and unnecessary plot twists. Unbearably good poetry. Sad, bastard music. That first bite of wasabi burger. The sight of a packed suitcase by the door first thing in the morning. Or are you planning to?
Things that make me want to (sort of) die, or cry harder:
The thought of going to work tomorrow. The price of my favorite chocolates. Reading books that don’t interest me at all. Bumping into your exes. Seeing pictures of them in your wallet. Unresolved problems. Tabloids and the people who read them. Clubs — the ones that involve dancing and not talking, at all. The thought of you leaving. Did I say something wrong?
—
In this crappy apartment, we built a life that’s livable enough for us to grow together. Happy and somewhat normal. We’re not like most people—we feel too much and say too little. But we’re in love. Isn’t that enough?
We talked of planes and passports. We talked of memories—the ones we choose to forget, the ones we want to make, and the ones we regret. We also talked of the future—in some icy country, with huge backpacks on and not enough money. Never enough money.
Also, plans: building our library of songs, films, and books. Things that bind us together. I have wondered many times what would become of us without them. Then, I knew: We’d still be us. And this would still be great.
—
Things that make me happy:
Chocolates and junk food. Good films that make me feel like a better person for watching them. Good food that doesn’t make me feel guilty afterward. Songs that make me feel lucky for being alive. Everything that makes me feel. My decision to check the coffee table where there are plane tickets to Alaska. Remembering that our anniversary is today. Realizing that the packed suitcase by the door is in fact two — one for you, one for me. Most of all, you.
-Zet
