Defining Definitions

The most tangible thing that isn’t tangible.

Knowing it is being shown without seeing it being shown.

Pure comfort. Attention. Attention. Attention. Attention. Are you paying attention?

The sensation one feels when LeBron blocks his opponent.

The crunch of leaves beneath shoes.

A gentle snowfall on a dark winter’s eve.

Letting the other person eat the last bite of shared dessert.

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a hike.

Crumpled money in an abandoned pocket.

People taking the time to read and watch links you send them.

Sitting in silence together.

Enjoying the music instead of talking over it.

Sitting and talking for hours instead of watching TV.

Sharing how you feel when you feel it.

“Hey there”

Feeling music pulse through your body in the midst of shared body heat during a concert.

Teeth initially sinking into the food you have been craving.

Seeing your pet after a long time away from them.

Singing at the top of your lungs alone in your car or with people.

Dancing however you want without thinking about what people think.

A gray sky with a rainbow shooting through it.

The ocean at night, slightly waving with the moon reflecting off of it.

Feeling sand crawl through your toes.

A warm mug of hot chocolate. A fire on a cold night. Belly laughing over the stupidest jokes.

Having a heated and controversial debate with someone and knowing nothing will change between you after the fight is over.

Feeling someone’s hand reach for yours in an unexpected moment.

“This made me think of you”

“I read your blog and could literally hear your voice”

“I miss you” “I remember you said you like…”

Showing up to meet someone with their favorite food in hand.

“I’m stopping at Dunkin’, do you want anything?”
“I was worried about you”

Smelling flowers. Frolicking with someone. Lighting a candle. Kool aid.

Someone asking to see you.

A random call in the middle of the day.

Knocking on the door because you need to see them.

“I’m proud of you” “Congratulations” “You were the first person I wanted to tell”

Words whispered in the quiet darkness.

“Who are you in the dark? Who are you when its 3 am and you’re all alone?”

Words jumbled in your head and made clear on paper.

Homemade gifts. Homemade food. Grocery shopping together. Running errands together.

Random spontaneous gifts just because you saw something and it made you think of them.

Getting pulled closer to their body in the middle of the night.

Telling someone there is food in their teeth.

Brushing their hair away from their face.

“Be careful”

The wind whistling through the trees.

My dog following me around and waiting for me outside of the bathroom when I was hurt.

My dog licking away my tears.

A mother’s warm hug and understanding pat on the back. “Let it out”

“taking a bite out of my food, whatever it is.” Skipping.

Going fast down a hill, no matter what form of transportation it is.

Making a video of vacation memories.

Playing games together. Sleeping in the same room as someone.

Eating with someone. Sharing a drink.

“Do you want to try some?” Sacrificing the last fry.

Staying up the extra hour to listen to someone.

Eloquent words that flow quite naturally in the right conditions

The ugly words and stumbled phrases that are somehow understood.

Knowing when you need a cup of tea without having to ask.

A shoulder to sleep on. Sharing head phones. Watching TV shows together.

Talking about nothing with somebody who means something.

A cup of coffee. “This morning, with her, having coffee”

Playing sports together.

“Will you come here? I just really need you”

The first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about before you sleep.

“It’s okay.” Me too. Knowing when to appreciate the silence. A hug.

Someone running towards you when you haven’t seen them in a long time.

Who am I when you are not beside me?

Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more. 

Patience.

Last night, my friend called me to tell me he read my blog. He asked me if I have ever written poetry. I said that no, I just write what comes to my head however my head sees it and put it on paper. Today, in class, we had to do poetry work-shops. We had to partner up and finish each other’s sentences without knowing we were finishing them. Between my friend’s words and my class, I decided to whip this up. I did not write most of it, it is a collection of people’s responses to a variety of questions. I think it makes a nice poem of nonsensical phrases … Take from it what you will. Perhaps this is why I don’t write poetry lol. Actually, I suppose I will be honest. I did write one poem. It was previously posted on here, but I was told it was too sad so I took it down. I’ll put it in here though, because my whole blog has been a mess recently anyway so you might as well read this too hahah. It is titled, “Basement Floor,” and is honestly more relevant now than it was when I wrote it last year. Enjoy:

here is where it all happens.

the basement floor.

emotions no longer in store,

they flood around us

like water evading the shore.

we laugh

and we share.

we cry

and we care.

they on one big comfy couch,

I alone,

as I crouch.

stories are told,

the past brought to light,

all to make our spirits feel bright.

they say,

"hey, ask a question"

"yeah you always start good conversation"

and so I ask an existential thought.

but they sleep,

and it is as if my idea was never brought.

we have fun,

do not get me wrong,

but it is not the depth

that my w(hole) soul requires.




here I am again.

on the basement floor.

I hear the words around me pour,

but I do not care to listen.

they laugh and titter,

but I feel too bitter

to join in their refrain

of sheer joy

and innocence.

I curl in a ball,

and proceed to bawl.

but they do not care to listen.

thus ends the scenes of basement floors.




Until different people enter the set,

Hitting Reset.

And change the plot.

No longer do I sit and

Get ignored,

No.

They acknowledge my thought.

I sit on a cloud,

So happy that I am proud,

As I now have the ability

To fill that aching hole

Within my soul.

Questions are debated,

So much so that I become

Elated.

The basement floor

Is no longer

The low point.

It has opened a door

Within me,

And allowed all kinds of people

To join me,

Joyfully.




Here I am again on the basement floor.

Laughing and struggling to breath

as beneath me

I hear something seethe

as if on the brink of a sneeze

and I wonder if it is going

to once again

seize.

But it stays at bay...




At least that is what I like to say.




here I am again,

on the basement floor.

Everything again changes

Once more.

The tumultuous pattern

Of life,

With just a touch of strife.

Happy, yes.

In fact, I am blessed.

but I yearn for those days

on the basement floor,

where things were raw

and my heart took a soar.

we were honest and care free.

And now,

I am simply

lonely.