Can we just talk about how sexy my boyfriend is? And why is he so far away from me again? Those curls. I die.
scraps of long distance
In missing him, I felt the continuation of hollowing. I lived in memory. Flipping to each page of our three month tale to find a jump start in inspiration. At times I was surrounded by people and chatter, and I would hit my auto-pilot button, while zooming off into the piece of the past I had collected.
I wanted crawl back into the tapestry of his cotton skin. When I found myself buzzing in the face of anxiety, I flew to the sound of his voice that lived in the center of calm. When the prickle of loneliness crept up and nestled behind my neck, I dove back into the crook of his arms. When I wanted to run to him I did; letting my lids fall, and our chapters race over me as they came.
-b
ducking
Bobbing in a transparent raft.
Carried up and down by
salt; it prickles into the most
ambivalent cavities.
The earths divide by the
vast ruler of the two tone blue force.
Carried under the foaming fold
of a gentle sweep.
I find balance in the liquid tumble.
-b
The post cards I sent from Chile are just starting to arrive in the mailboxes of my loved ones. People forget how exciting it is to receive words on a paper sent from somewhere that’s not Facebook.
I can’t wait to send more.
I am going to backtrack and put up a few of my photos from my time in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina.
All photos taken with an iPhone 4 and edited on Instagram.
-b
traveling
Today is my last full day in Canada!
Don’t forget to check out and follow my new travel blog: http://btipladytravel.tumblr.com/.
-b
I’m leaving.
On Tuesday I bought a ticket to South America for seven months. I’ve been planning this trip, talking about it, wanting it, begging for it, fighting for it, for almost a year. And now, I’m holding the next two months before I leave in my hands and suddenly I don’t want it as bad. Well…no…that’s a lie. I do, I want it with everything in my bones but what I don’t want is to leave everything I love behind. I don’t want to come back forgotten, I don’t want to see the love of my life with another girl and I don’t want to have to start a new life when I just had to for 7 months. I made everything about this trip, about me. It was my turn to have my adventure and it is. But I never considered what I could leave behind and what I couldn’t get back. I walked around so triumphant- that I am setting myself up for this big extravagant-soul-searching-journey that I became so caught up in what it meant for myself and I failed to consider what it meant for my friendships; my love life. I’m hardly scared to leave, but I’m already scared to come home. The world doesn’t stop when you are full filling your own personal endevours and I think the magnitude of that reality just came and slapped me in the face.
-b
❧
Lover, lifer, writer. Journalism student, and Vancouver freelancer. This is my personal blog with a lot of my own poetry and intimate entries. I am continuously inspired by successful, talented and innovative women, and I try to reflect that as much as possible. I hope you enjoy.
"Cento" Copyright © Andrew Brinker 2011.
