Three Years

I'm sitting in my room with my iPod plugged into my head with the volume turned up nearly as loud as it will go to block out all giggling from my roommates and all potential knocks on my door. It's after midnight, and I should be in bed. I don't know why I feel the need to blog lately, but I do. I have always hated the aspect of an audience for my writing. I feel so inadequate and hate sharing, but lately, I've craved readers. My words are becoming more brazen and long to be seen, touched, and sometimes even danced with. This is the first time in a long time that I've felt like a writer. Honestly, I've been so happy lately and I realized about twenty minutes ago that it's because I've been writing every day. Funny how that's the best and easiest therapy for me, but I often ignore it.

Yesterday, I was in the Braithwaite Gallery supposedly writing about anything that the Parowan Gap Exhibit inspired me to write. It wasn't the exhibit that inspired me, it was running into my best friend there and being flooded with memories of what our lives were like three years ago. When I sat down to compose my poem, my heart wouldn't allow me to write anything else. So, here's what came out. It's still in a very rough draft, but I wanted to share it. I think I'll share some more of my recent writing in the coming days.

Three Years

Three years ago today, we sat on your
bedroom floor with melting cartons
of Neapolitan ice-cream and two
sticky spoons.
While outside the sky mimicked
vanilla and dripped until the whole
ground appeared as if it’d been spilled upon.
You painted us in shades of blue and green
and I wrote us into 1972
both of us throwing crumpled rejections
to the floor, banished and forgotten.
Between pauses for math equations,
crazy photographs, and uncoordinated
dance moves.
At two a.m. we rubbed the bump in your emerald
carpet for good luck. Before I put on my
eskimo coat and furry boots to traipse
through the chocolate mud back to my room.
With you on the phone to protect
me as I walked all alone until my key clicked
my door open. And we hurried to finish
our conversation before saying
Goodnight.
And fell asleep knowing it’d be the same tomorrow.