We watch the season pull up its own stakes
And catch the last weekend of the last week
Before the gold and the glimmer have been replaced,
Another sun-soaked season fades away.
Photo: Late August Sunset – Long Island, New York
“Dance when you’re broken open. Dance if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you are perfectly free.”
Photo: Modern Dance Solo, Iona College Dance Ensemble Showcase 2010
On certain Sundays in November when the weather bothers me
I empty drawers of other summers where my shadows used to be
She is standing by the water as her smile begins to curl,
In this or any other summer, she is something all together different
Never just an ordinary girl.
And in the evenings on Long Island when the colors start to fade
She wears a silly yellow hat that someone gave her when she stayed
I didn’t think that she returned it, we left New York in a whirl
Time expands and then contracts when you are spinning in the grips of someone
Who is not an ordinary girl.
And when you sleep you find your mother in the night but she stays just out of sight
So there isn’t any sweetness in the dreaming
And when you wake the morning covers you with light and it makes you feel alright
But it’s just the same hard candy you’re remembering again.
You send your lover off to China and you wait for her to call
You put your girl up on a pedestal and you wait for her to fall
I put my summers back in a letter and I hide it from the world
All the regrets you can’t forget are somehow pressed upon a picture
In the face of such an ordinary girl.
We want to see faces that tell stories. We want to see passion on the streets, people screaming and crying, and pretend we’re annoyed by the noise but secretly love it, secretly feel like we’ve just been given a shot of adrenaline.
We want to make the most of our youth. Treat it like it’s an orange and we’re sucking the pulp dry. Sticky fingers, messy hands, but damn it tasted good.
We are the type of people whose anxieties propel us forward. Anxiety is what forced us to stay here, anxiety is what landed us our great job. We’re always moving closer and closer to where we want to be, even if it doesn’t always feel that way.
We’re feelings junkies. When we walk out of our door in the morning, we want our brain to be assaulted by a myriad of things. We’re not ready to feel balanced and healthy yet. Burning the candle at both ends still fills us with an intoxicating combo of joy and dread. We are like a strange mix of resilience and ultimate fragility.
Photo Credit: KML Photography
Blog Credit: Thought Catalog, Ryan O’Connell