I have noticed every day
I become more dull, and I don't
mean boring, I mean lacking
in sharpness, in focus.
I am becoming fuzzy. I forget
the cadence of the poems
written about me, can't seem
to count the lines and rhymes
in my head anymore.
When I think of you
lying in my bed, I recall
your absence from my bed
and resort to searching
Google for bits of information
you will never remember
to tell me; you were in a play
that had Chili in its name
and swam more laps than
you or I can keep track of.
Your parents live on a street
named after a nut, in a house
you were a child in. I imagine
you running through the yard
with your twin holding hands.
Your twin has a slew
of pages on his life too.
Somehow, this is what
helps me fall asleep on the nights
when the bed is bigger than me.

And now it's time for something completely different

Today we're going to learn how to write a limerick. They seem easy enough but I'm sticking to a strict anapestic foot. And since I can barely remember what an anapest is, this could take awhile. But I will succeed, and keep you posted in the mean time.

And for your reading pleasure, here is an adaption of a limerick my ex-boyfriend and good friend Matthew Mahaney wrote about me:

In Shakespeare and Austen she trusts
with a larger than average bust
she attracts wanton glances
and unwanted advances
but she'll crush all their hearts into dust.

Haiku baby

Three words too many
One short of enough supine
Legs as long as thyme.

That's a haiku, baby. Yeah.

This conversation actually just took place

Leah: And I would handle classical music. Well, I would probably handle everything pre-1900.

Stefan: Haha though I don't think I've heard music trivia before 1950.

Leah: Really? Huh...

Stefan: You have?

Leah: Well, I guess my experience is skewed since I played with hipsters.

Stefan: Haha where do you play hipster trivia?

Leah: At the Old Fashioned. And sometimes at Adam's house. You know, the kid with the mullet.

Stefan: Sorry, the correct answer was 'you've probably never heard of it.'

Leah: But you have heard of the Old Fashioned. I know you have. We were there. But you've probably never been there for trivia night.

Stefan: Yeah, I know. I was just saying the hipster response :-p

Leah: So was I. You've probably never heard of trivia at the Old Fashioned. No one has.

Stefan: Do they keep it secret, in the back, like an opium den? Those dens have great trivia.

Leah: As a matter of fact they do. It's so secret, not even the Old Fashioned knows the trivia game is going on. It's like totally meta.

Stefan: Wow, what's the prize?

Leah: One of Edgar Allan Poe's toenails and the ironic satisfaction of being proven better than a group of people who think they are better than everyone else. 

Stefan: Lol, the greatest prize of all. 

Leah: I didn't tell you that in hipster trivia there's only one question- what is the meaning of life?

Stefan: How long is the trivia?!?!

Leah: Well, I've been doing it for about three years now. Continuously. 

Stefan: And no end in sight.

Leah: I offered an answer last year but was told it needed to be more specific to be accepted. It also had to include organic food and boat shoes.

No aspect of this conversation has been altered, aside from Stefan's atrocious spelling/grammar.

I woke up in the wave
Again the sea had washed
Soft colored stones between my lips
And left me silent with dreams
I have tried writing for days
Now and nothing
Will come but you and your
And you again. I know you would hate
The way I talk about you
To people who don't know
Your name or face. You hate
That I talk about you as if
You are already gone,
That you never were, like a widow
Speaks of the man she lost
To the war, the one
That never came home to marry her.

Visitation Rights

When I spoke
to you today you said I might
explode from excitement &
I gave you permission to date
Kiera Knightly if I was
blown to smithereens
by my own heightened anticipation,
to which you replied, hellz yea.
You know, of course,
that should you not mourn
my loss for at least the proper
3 month time, I reserve
the right to haunt you &
I hear Kiera Knightley hates ghosts,
especially the jealous types.