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14

Mar

this time it’s different

I should be doing my homework,

I should be changing over my laundry.

I should be doing my homework.

But it’s a Friday night, and I am not waiting tables,

instead I am sitting in a barely lit room, writing another trail of words about you.

And I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.

Sitting on my bed, the afternoon overcast lighting us up with a drowsy need for romance.

We kissed for as long as our lips would let us.

You were like the safest, warmest, hammock.  

I should be doing my homework.

But I am stuck on last night. Crooked in a bath tub with you. I am vulnerable, you are happy. 

The bathroom is laced with smoke, and you look impossibly and vivaciously content. The world becomes a kaleidoscope of everything you are. Everything I am. A mosaic of five months into a firework of the most simple kind of utopia. 

And I can’t believe that you are mine. 

We are naked in the bath on a Thursday night, we don’t talk much, and there is no where else we could dream of being. I don’t remember ever being this serene. 

This is what love is like with you.

I should be doing my homework. 

This time it’s different. I could write it in all my poems, I could tell all my girlfriends, speaking too fast so that I don’t miss the story about the time you brought me flowers when I was sick.

"But this time it’s different."

The way you look at me scares me. There is so much love in those caramel eyes they could gulp me up. 

I am in awe that someone could love me enough to have it radiate from their eyeballs. 

I wonder if you can tell that the way my stomach folds during sex gives me the worst kind of anxiety. 

I am in awe that after more beers than I’d probably like to know, you sway towards me with such adoration that I feel like my heart might burst out of my throat for you. 

This time it’s different. 

I am in awe that we are drunk on a Monday. My back is in your chest. We are not at our type of place and your arms laced around my ribcage feel like the womb. Your beard tastes like whiskey. You tell me you want to be with me for as long as we are this happy. You tell me you want to see the world with me. I believe you. 

This time it’s different. 

My kitchen feels cold every morning that we are not deciding how to make our eggs. 

Thank you for walking the dog last night.

This time it’s so different. 

-b

24

Apr

Happy Brit.

Happy Brit.

15

Apr

mid way mark

I have been gone from my Vancouver nest 3 months today, and in two days I will be halfway home. This mid way mark, has brought on so much reflection on what was, and the tornado of weeks waking up in different cities and what each of those cities brought to my soul. I am feeling so full of gratitude for each experience I have been able to digest, in each country, and in each culture. There have been moments of awe that I can’t even delve into with words, without tearing a part the simplicity of the moment into an extravagance defeating the purpose. To be in Chile, sitting with a French couple so in love, and so crazy, driving across South America in a VW bus, full filling each of their travel desires through each others lenses. To be in Buenos Aires, feeling electrocuted by the sound radiating from the drum ensemble La Bomba del Tiempo, sharing a no holds barred dance with a cultural center scattered with every nationality of travelers. To be in Mar Del Plata, Argentina, playing guitar and singing with strangers who become your best friends in 24 hours, forgetting about your nightclub plans and instead, drink in the comfort of the most simple social pleasures. To find a connection without the fluidity of language, but with the heart, in both Argentinean people, the passing of a matte cup, and beautiful surfing woman that is so lost, but helps me become even more found. The moment when you say goodbye to the girl who became one of your most treasured friends in only 3 weeks, in the streets where you met, after sitting at the cafe that you loved, and crying because you are so happy to have embraced and shared time with such a beautiful igniting, soul, but also to be separated from it. And when your final moment is her words echoing across the San Telmo cobblestone: “I’ll see you in Vancouver.” Or to be arriving in Lima, where you will be living for the next 5 months, and so riddled with goosebumps because essentially you are alone, but after one month of traveling you have learned you are never really alone, and the curiosity of what awaits is amplified by the silence of your new surroundings. The moment you find a connection to your far away family, that is now so close, and fall in love with the cousin that is now your closest friend here. To be sinking into the typhoon of lust, that is laced with all the love that you always gave, and never received, in the half way mark of a journey that started off about you, and but has become about what others have taught, shown, and given. To practice a new language everyday, and walk into a new building, filled with new education in all different ways, and find yourself tongue tied with all the new words pouring from your lips. To be humbled, by language; put it in your place. To know that just because you are proficient in one, you still must start all over in another. To know that you aren’t changed, but altered, you aren’t found, but you’re no longer lost, and you’re only half way there. 

-b

17

Nov

The best video, when you’re having a shitty day. Love this sequel. Be happy about something! 

"Wanna know why I smile? Because it’s worth it." :)