14

“If you were still here,
we could’ve become something.”
“I know.”
“I could’ve made you happy,”
“I know.”
step on my feet,
slow dance

We walked together everyday
after school stroll
cobblestone cul-de-sac
I went the long way
so I could match your stride

We walked each other home
our whole lives
but as we grew older, we never
walked into a home
we shared.

So let us toast
the saddest speech:
to all the childhood loves
who loved each other,
but never at the same time.

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13

A measure of success:
family to love
feast to feast
warm cable-knit hugs
mistletoe, misty eyed

Overflowing guests
pouring in the front door
wreathed in balsam scent
nose hairs sharp
breaths puffed.

H’or d’oeuvres line the linen
pine tree, immaculate
tangled twinkle lights
creaky bathroom door
dinner bell ding.

The first quiet when all the guests
kiss goodbye
the nice China plates back in
the nice China cabinet.

I want this
the din of tinsel and bulbs
like December twenty-six
to twenty-nine
when I’m too happy to
take the tree away
when we have
no where to be, but
in our house, with each other.

 

 

Thank you for over 500 subscribers.
Thank you for nearly 3 500 visitors in only three months of being live here at elleguyence.
Thank you for providing a creative medium for us to share our lives with each other.
May your holidays be blessed with softness, kindness and health.

Love,
Elle

12

Missed connection
two cups on the ends of the thinnest string
dial the tone, set the mood
the scent of pine tree sap
strong against my blue nose.

Cold colours control
evening’s fireplace warmth
we welcomed December
as kind as we could
but still we sit,
frozen.

Sometimes, I think
your scarf is wrapped too tight,
you need to let yourself breathe
more than you need to fear the cold
seeping into your duvet seams.

Please, come in
(you’ve been here before)
soggy toes versus
fireplace crackle

“Home has always been here,
as long as you are, too
you can always stay
I’ve always wanted you
(to stay)”

The coffee machine’s stubbornness
to not burn the coffee
just once, please
please, just once

10

Pursuit of perfect
I didn’t always strive for
until I realized
I breed disappointment in myself
for not being enough
for me.

Black and white
every question has an answer
every achievement
has another, waiting
that I need to earn
and I will
(because I have to).

You’re a tsunami
blatantly blasé
of how my life is full of rulered lines
I’m a chart and you say you’re art
but you’re making a mess.

Aching for admiration
vying for validation
I’m exhausted from
mending myself.

Your life is malleable
and mine is solid concrete
I don’t trust your architecture
to hold me up;
so thank you for the offer,
but I have things to do.

 

This week, I did the Enneagram Personality Test and discovered I am Type Three: The Achiever.  If you’re interested in taking the test, you can find the one I did here under “Classical Enneagram Test.” What type are you? Do you agree? Leave a comment below!

9

“Say ‘lettuce’ and spell ‘cup.’”

We see those photographs of us as children teasing each other and we call them keepsakes. A time we can’t return to, snapshots of the smallest versions of us literally experiencing everything for the first time in our lives.

Does that suggest that, because we are recycling the same emotions again and again, that we are not actually becoming bigger versions of ourselves, but the same tiny kids experiencing mutations of the same things—some stronger, some weaker?

“Stretch your mouth and say ‘pirate ship.’”

I’m taking pictures everyday. The way the wineglass sweats on the nightstand, the sun peeking through peonies, drunk spills at the bar. I used to be enamoured by the thought that a picture could keep a memory alive, and capture the people inhabiting it in a moment where they will never be the same people again. But I’ve come to realize that, upon flipping through old albums, these glossy photographs haunt me with everything I have ever lost, and all the people I used to be.

I remember a childhood April afternoon, when we flooded in from recess and my blond crush stood by his locker across the hallway and mouthed that he loved me.

“Stick out your tongue and say ‘apple.’”

But I have played these games before, and I knew if you thought about the words and warped your mouth in your mind for long enough, you’d never be bullied again.

I turned away from his smile and headed for class, because I understood that even the ones you want to love will always fit into elephant shoes.

8

I don’t know how
I want to love you:
like breath,
so integral to life
you forget I’m here?
Or like a warm winter jacket
you boast to everyone
and never regret the purchase?

Forever in my head
mulling the maze of
overbear versus undervalue
hurdles of head/heart.

I wrote this scene myself
envisioned our dialogue
and even now we’re still
only dress rehearsal.

Ideally, the noise tapers
room: illuminated
me: alleviated
until my dream drops
to the pit of my stomach.

Lump: rises
mouth: opens
“I want to love you,
but I don’t know how.”

 

Sleeping At Last – Neptune

5

I always find myself
thinking of you
like finding my grade seven MP3 player
and realizing I still know some of the lyrics.

And I still remember the taste of your breath: smoke
and the pizza toppings you hated
and your nails, ridged from teeth
and I realized that we were filled with ‘ands’
how we have known and lost each other
time and time and time again.

You’re a light, flickering
I just couldn’t keep from going out.
How I thought keeping you alight
had kept me aligned
how vast your world seemed
and how its seams burst, filled
with all these lives that I’d never
fit into.

I was a comet in your atmosphere
colliding through your night
you just couldn’t commit to.

You’ll never be a soft place to put this down
but all I can think is:
if you’d just let me in,
if my heart lived in you,
I’d be home by now.