Refrigerator Magnets

April 2, 2017

The room is dark with a shimmering light from the left.
The window is desperate to share a gleam of the moon’s radiance.
And the phone, facing upward, blinks every few minutes to alarm me that someone from the outside world is trying to get in touch.
As silence fills and places itself within these four walls,
Comfortably snuggling up against the corners
I realize that life is exactly that.
It’s the silence that refuses to be ignored,
The one that exists to be heard and acknowledged.
It nudges me.
It begs me for attention.
It warns me.
It tells me not to be comforted but to be moved by it.

April 18, 2017

Wooden floors and newly painted walls,
imperfect windows to perfect sunsets,
and a sign on the bathroom that reads,
“Shit Happens.”

Twelve floors high, still two from the roof,
sandwiched between sex maniacs upstairs
and hot boxing neighbors whose smell
lingers into our apartment through the vents.

An incomplete complaint to the AA’s,
and a complete distaste for that one guard
whose prerogative seems always
to ruin the days of those who walk by.

As the first residents of this place,
we’ve left our mark with holes in the walls,
scratches on the floor, and dips in
mattresses where we found our bodies slip the most.

May 1, 2017

There are those moments you never expect to come. When they do, you don’t know what to do. Like today, the last day of classes for my senior year, the fourth year of being in college. I anticipated the moments after  graduation but never this day in particular. There’s something very surreal about this time. It’s simultaneously realistic and overwhelming in all its implications; no more living in close quarters with my girlfriends, no more random nights out, no more being a senior in college. All of this will be stripped from me by time, and all I can do is bare witness to it.

May 10, 2017

It could have been a cold box in which the AC froze my toes over, my uncirculating ligaments curled up underneath blankets unshared.

It could have been the hollow space, the black hole to which I returned on a lonely day only to slip into a deeper trance, one that isolation does to those without relations, and found my mind unbreached by friends whose inquiries of my day kept me strapped tight to reality.

It could have been the fetters of oppression, strangling my ankles with the weight that pulled me down to the depths of the ocean which is home to lowly, groveling creatures that neither bare beautiful minds nor hearts but rather shrivel up in immoral judgments of contempt toward others.

It could have, but it was not.

May 12, 2017

This is the last night that I’ll be sleeping on these squeaky springs. With just a lift of a finger, the bed cries for all to hear. But apparently it’s comfortable…so comfortable that she finds herself shoving my mess to the ground to make room on this mattress. And on this very last night she did the same, chatting away beneath my covers as I pack  up my things around her.

Lying here, now, at 4 AM next to this girl who has been my sanity since we met as two naively happy freshmen, I can’t shut my eyes. Neither exhaustion nor tire can defeat this heaviness that has settled over my body. It’s simultaneous sadness and excitement because while I am not happy to be parting from these three girls with whom I’ve made a home, I am so confident this isn’t the end of the road for us.

1207 will always ring in my mind and tickle my memories with little foxes and owls trotting around. 1207 will always be the place where I learned how to trust and find true comfort in silences and in vulnerability. 1207 will always be the closing chapter of my college career waiting for the sequel with a cliffhanger. 1207 will always.

May 19, 2017

11:57 AM

A week after the last, empty and bustling,
each passing day in the individual’s life
but today in the lives of four,
sipping tea outside the walls that once were.

Four brunettes around a circular table at 3:03 PM,
I imagine, will talk of the six days without each other
and talk of serious things like how to use lip liner correctly
or of more trivial topics about their futures.

I imagine four smiles facing inward,
more than contented by the timelessness that surrounds
and with each passing minute, racing the clock,
to slip last glimpses before Boston and France can claim the two
while mundane work routines and student schedules consume the others.

M.J.
05/19/2017

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