I will ride your mood swings.
I will fix your breakdowns
I will catch your tantrums
I will clean your messes
And I will kiss your chemistry.
I’m not here to save you
But I am here to show you
That it’s possible for me
To love the whole of you.
“you’re some kind of wonderful”
“you’re every kind of wonderful”
maybe i don’t want it bad enough,
maybe i don’t want it at all.
maybe i’ve been stuck in one mindset just because it’s easy,
because thinking otherwise was just too much effort.
but i’ve come to realize that if i want something bad enough, ‘much effort’ isn’t really enough effort.
GK parties and cariboo.
puc-sluts and skoal.
palmbay, growers, hard liquor,
bashes in the boonies and some good small town lovin.
it can’t last forever, and it wont because life moves on once you step foot off the island.
If you ask me what home feels like,
I’d tell you it feels like point homes and kitty coleman. I’d tell you how the mountains fold into place and how the ocean shapes the sound of waves. I’d tell you that at home, there’s no traffic, that everybody knows everybody, and that being polite is not an option, but a way of life. I’d say that laughter is the cause and cure for all, that island time is the best time, and that yes, I’m damn proud to live here. I’d tell you that home is full of fresh air, the smell of campfire, and is the best place to find quiet.
Not your regular quite though, the type of quiet that your thoughts are able to run with. The type that finds you when you need it most, the type that sits at the edge of the beach and at the end of the boat ramp. The type that welcomes the wind and crashing waves; type that drowns out cars and sirens, and the type that you just can’t get enough of.
If you ask me what home feels like,
I could list off names and words like spitfire. I could describe to you the best of the best, and the worst of it all.
I could tell you i miss it, that i love it and loathe it all at once, but most importantly, I’d tell you that I’ll be home soon.
i’m going to miss everything about you, ctown.
Love runs thin through the creases of my mind
Like a fragile sheet of ice
That coats a pond in a warm winter.
When i need it most
It melts and grows weak,
Turning to droplets that slip right through the cracks of my fingers,
Leaving me with nothing but damp hands.
Just fifteen miles from shore,
I lost the love that I had.
Slipped and fell into the cold,
Of the deep and the dark below.
Big wave, small boat.
We tipped, I froze.
My hands were ice, my feet were stone.
I could not throw the rope,
I caught her eye as she dipped down with a wave.
I jumped in but I was too late.
Fighting with the currents of the Georgia Strait,
Fighting with the wind and the tide and the waves.
I lost my love that day,
I touched her fingers as she breathed out my name.
it doesn’t feel like anything is going to change. although i know it’s bound to, maybe i just don’t want it to.
and the living is easy
i still get that weird feeling when i see you, like the pit of my stomach is full of weak butterflies that once flew so freely. i suppose you could call it a feeling of longing, or curiosity, mixed with a bit of regret and sadness. i’m not sure what it means, but i wish i did.
it’s been so long since i’ve last tumbled,
it’s been so long since i’ve sung,
and i don’t like it.
it’s not tangible,
although i wish it were.
wish it were something i could grab, and toss away; or hold onto and never let go of.
i wish it were something that i was in total control of, but it’s not.
every moment spent wasting time with you, wasn’t and will never be wasted.
reading you is like reading a braille book with my eyes.