Newsletter Volume ThirtyOne:
Forever is a Feeling.
Limerence.
Had to forgive the gift of forgetting— letting the bluebirds harp against the low light.
…
Weather a storm by fitting the mold— a question of flattery unfolding.
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Fighting off failure to stick around— becoming a martyr for life.
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A martyr without a plan for sacrifice— running out of reasons to forgive God this time.
…
Limerence is dripping from my lips again, and I know the truth to you, feels like the worst of sin.
You’re a Big Deal.
I saw a couple on Como and 19th last Friday afternoon. Their hands were intertwined, and their faces looked offbeat and queasy. I was going fifty down the city blocks, and their blur almost resembled you and me. Forever is a Feeling I’d pay for, knowing I’d be left counting pennies for my time. Cause honestly, I’ve been writing to you forever, just publishing from my bedroom straight to your mind. Did you hear the sad cries from the poet who lived down the street? “I know I’d never be your girl, but I’d bet my odds over admitting defeat.” I often think that Dickinson must’ve had it right— evergreens, lovers, and friends for life. And maybe I’m not afflicted by the times, but if I were, I’d still want you out of spite. I saw some people in a crowd on the corner by the bistro, protesting for equal rights. Sometimes I think I like my city, but I think I just liked it better when you were walden it with me. It’s interesting to wonder, but I have to know, “If I crossed a line, would you follow behind?” How many chances would I lose to give a winning sign of our time? The time of day that I met you. The time of the year when I fell off deep. The time we’ve lost against the tides. The time I leaned into your arms. The time my pride finally dies off. Till it’s just more time we’ve lost.
Forgiveness is a Feeling:
I want to know it well.
I know the green grass and full streets mean I should call my friends again. Drinks and diction? A glass of wine on me? I’ll give you a moment, you can take your time. But know that I’m ready and waiting.
Seattle, this time of year— green on blue on city streets. I’ll call once I land, a single bag and my pride in my hand. Feeling sorry that I haven’t called, feeling good to be back on the ground. Let’s go to that market downtown; matching rings, and a new tattoo? Things seem to look how they should, how you said they would this time of year. No rain, no worries, no ticket home, no hurry. You’ve got me rhyming like a fool, writing poetry in my prose, and finding I like the Spring again, finding I like water running through the city roads and drying up at the ends.
Calling my friends and imagining they’re here— delusional or creative at heart? Thinking, the Willamette River is not as far as it feels. Reading the road signs, swearing they told me to go West. Trying to find a way to find forever in my current state, turn against my nature, and leave my family for it all. Becoming the worst so you’ll like me the best. Why can’t we find a middle ground anymore? Why can’t we eat dinner in silence? Why can’t we spend all night and day together and have nothing more to learn or say?
I am afraid twenty minutes feels like twenty hours; turns out I’m a drag to even the closest of my friends. But maybe you’ll always forgive me; knowing you, that makes sense. I think maybe I needed this time to find honesty in my gut. I think I needed twenty-five years to realize where I belong. Perhaps you two will stay with me forever, or maybe you’ll get tired of my lonesome mind. We can talk it out over a riesling and pasta, and lots of laughter to pass the time.
Twenty-five feels like a big deal, a new sensation, and just five years away from being nothing new.
I’d like to apologize, but I’d like to know forgiveness— can both be promised from you and me?
Can twenty-five be the new eighteen?
Can you forgive the last seven years and take a chance on a likeness of me?
Let me know, give me a call, send a letter, or send a fleet.
I won’t fight when they take me away, knowing only you guys would send out for me.
Sound Of the Newsletter.
“Forever is a Feeling” By Lucy Dacus from Forever is a Feeling—
Lyrics that inspired this newsletter (and drove me to insanity):
(Honorable mentions: “Big Deal,” “For Keeps,” “Most Wanted Man,” and the entire album, let’s be honest….)
I crossed a line
And you followed close behind
We were cherry red in your forest green
1993 Grand Cherokee
You knew the scenic route
I knew the shortcut and shut my mouth
Isn't that what love's about?
Doing whatever to draw it out?
This is bliss
This is Hell
Forever is a feeling
And I know it well
I'm no good at faces or names
Places or days
Zip codes and timezones
But I remember everywhere we've ever been and whеn
I remember thinking you wеre pretty when we met
My wrists are in your zip tie
25 to life, why not?
End Note:
Since time has flown by so fast this Spring, I’ve decided to combine my Spring and Summer series into a single collection. My Spring awakening has only just begun, and it seems fitting. Music has been healing for me in so many ways recently, but more than anything, a new album has awakened my offensive queer poetry and I apologize to all those impacted.
May seems to be the affliction of all 12 months, I have been cut deep by yet another queer woman’s album. Forever is a Feeling, released by Lucy Dacus, has tortured my bitter mind for over a month now. Seemingly changing my entire perspective on longing and loving, and I feel like Spring is bringing out the romance in me. I hope you enjoyed this first installment of my Spring/Summer Newsletters!
See you all soon <3
G.