romance

When Roots Turn Into Roads

oneway

We had dreams

tucked neatly in

our back-pockets,

and we set off

toward the neon lights

and sky beasts.

The stars were our shields

and our whispers cut like

a steel sort of sword.

There is passion on the

tips of our tongues

and loud heartbeats

deep in our throats.

I see a tree

that splits its trunk,

and it spills out

coarse gravel and macadam.

Each gnarled, knotty branch

curves and beckons me

to take a different path.

The roots expand

and push through placid

pavements.

Our walk continues,

with footsteps crunching

the leaves of a home

I’ve been wanting to forget.

But the cobblestones

become cab lights,

and the swing sets become

shiny street signs,

and I understand

the romance of

creative minds

will require only train fares

and intertwined

arms.

In His Sleep

beds

She listens to

the low hum

of a hotel fan,

with her head

balanced between

the soft platform

of his chest

and the space

under his arm.

They are together but

she sneaks out of bed

to look at the

cracks of evening

glow and his resting eyes.

She tries not to disturb

his obvious and

comfortable sleep, and

as if he heard her thoughts

he stirs,

“What are you doing?”

he asks her with

remains of dreams in

his garden green eyes.

She answers with a simplistic

smile and crawls back to

the spot she shared with him,

stroking his tired skin and

thinking about how

there is even romance in

the questions he asks her.

On the Train

Before she left for work in the morning, she would think of what he would say to her on the train.

They were strangers. She had been sitting in a seat meant for two and pressed her body close up against the sticky walls of the train. She didn’t normally like to be close with people on the train, and she tried to avoid conversation with most commuters. She didn’t like strangers prying into her life, with only 15 minutes till her destination arrived she found it pointless to try and become friends with anyone. Who knew if she would ever see them again?

He was different. He commuted the same way as her, but got off at the stop after her, the last stop. As she was pressed against the train’s side, he walked onto the train. His clothes looked like they were taken off a mannequin, with a blue button-up tucked into his slacks neatly, like her mom used to do for her in elementary school, right before picture day. Hair mussed slightly, he looked like a baby chick with its new fluffed up feathers peeking up on its head. His dirty blonde hair fell close to his eyes, and he pushed it out of the way as he boarded the train and searched for a seat.

She knew there were other seats on the train, but he chose to sit next to her.

He politely asked, “Can I sit here?”

She moved her bag aside and inched closer to the wall.

“Sure.”

He plopped down beside her, too close, and handed his ticket to the conductor. Turning to her he said, “Do you ride all the way to the end of the line?”

The rest of the conversation was idle chit-chat. Where are you working? How do you like the town? This weather is crazy, right? Even though she knew it was silly, she couldn’t stop talking to him. She didn’t even know him.

That’s why she woke up in a hurry every morning, heart racing, and made sure she never missed the train again. She never knew when it would be the last time they would talk on the train.

Confessions of a Not-so-Teenager Twi-Hard

You know that one thing that you have in your life that you know is bad, but you love it anyway? Call it a guilty pleasure, if you must.

Well. I’m here to admit, no matter what I have said in the past, but I have a guilty pleasure, I know it’s bad, but I must come out with it: I’m a Twilight fan.

Let me defend my case here, before you decide you never want to read anything I write again.

I’m going to start by saying the movies have the worst acting, and the books are no literary works of genius. Yes, Edward sparkles and Bella is moody. Yes, their love story is stupid, predictable, and yet unrealistic. Everything about the movies, books, merchandise, you name it, it isn’t worth the time of day.

Bet your wondering why I just admitted to being a fan and then bashed it, right?

The reason I love Twilight is because it’s nostalgic. It reminds me of those painful tween-early teenager years where I didn’t fit in and all I wanted was a “true love.” Twilight stands for a time period of my life where I could read stupid novels and not be ridiculed, both publicly and privately. There was no worrying about whether reading a certain type of novel would damage your reputation, and you certainly didn’t need to hide the hard-cover editions and your poster of Taylor Lautner every time Jessica from gym class came over.

Me, 2010. Camping, somewhere north, maybe? In the height of my Twilight craze, here you can see me crouching as I hunt (I'm clearly a vampire).

Me, 2010. Camping, somewhere north, maybe? In the height of my Twilight craze, here you can see me crouching as I hunt (I’m clearly a vampire).

Truth is, why does anyone care how bad a novel is or a movie? No one is forcing you to watch it, or read it (unless they assign it for English 101). My point is, I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m crazy just because I like a corny romance that just so happens to include wolfish, shiny and/or pale faced boys. I’ve had people say, “You like Twilight??” Hey now, just because I enjoy The New Yorker, Earl Grey tea, and my go-to hairstyle is a coiled bun, doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some poorly written vampire saga.

There are several confessions I’d like to make at this time. Yes, I had a poster of Taylor Lautner, shirtless (I had to take it down once I started dating Colin). Yes, I have all of the books, and I have read them cover-to-cover four times. And yes, I have Twi-hard merchandise, including a “Team Lautner” necklace and purse, and I have a tote bag with Bella and Edward on it.

Did you just lose respect for me? Well, you probably shouldn’t, in fact…you should gain some respect for me. The fact that I love one of the world’s most hated piece of entertainment and I’m not afraid to admit it is pretty gutsy.

I finished Breaking Dawn Part 2 (that’s the movie) and let me tell you it felt good. There were those obvious scenes that I rolled my eyes at, or mocked (Kristen Stewart’s angry voice and “Bella and Edward” having sex) but overall I was happy with how it ended. It’s a little bittersweet, having both the books be completed as well as the movies. Good news is, there is always Netflix or a rainy day for me to start it all over!

So, it’s okay to like things that people loathe. In fact, I think this is what makes us human. I stopped liking Twilight because it’s what everyone else was doing. I figured I couldn’t have people thinking badly of me, so I switched to more popular series like The Hunger Games or to authors like James Patterson. But, I’m a closet Twi-hard no longer. If this is what makes me, well, me, then so be it!

“Death is peaceful, life is harder,”Twilight