"would you like to kiss me forever?"

lazy-eyed in the low light spilling
over the couch from the kitchen,
i looked up at you with
serious consideration.

it was an appealing proposition,
i admit,
but forever is pretty extensive.
only twenty years old,
big plans for the future,
none of which included an
endless liplock.

i became petrified at the thought.

our mouths would dry out
in hours,
chapped lips eroding away
layer after layer.
it wouldn’t take long for the
fault lines to split,
streams of blood trickling down
both our chins
or maybe we’d swallow it whole
and i am far too young to
choke to death.

oh, sure,
my two decades on this planet have been
generous and rewarding,
but they have not
afforded me the ability to
get my degree or
travel the country and maybe one day
the world or
finish writing that zine i’ve been
talking about since last winter or
learn how to play
the instrument collecting dust
in my closet.

after twenty years
i have yet to discover how to
wake up in the morning without
instantly pulling the covers
back over my head.
after twenty years
i haven’t quite figured out how to
confess my innermost self
without doing the exact same thing.

and what about you?
how would you fair the next twenty years
attached to a vanishing act?
could you keep our lips connected
every time i turn away?
and you better believe i will turn away
over and over again
with a shoulder that freezes to the touch.
once in a while
you will deserve it entirely
but more often than not
reason will be thrown out the window
and my inability to connect will be
all that’s left
to take the blame.

time seemed still
while my brain inundated with
but i could feel you waiting
for an answer.

yet certain,
i met your wondering gaze.

but forever is too long and
there are a lot of things
i’d still like to do.”

a momentary look of surprise
flashed across your face.
as per usual,
i was not exactly what you expected.
you considered,
then smiled.

"that’s a good answer."

and kissed me once more,
but only for a moment.

this is an informal invitation to
spend your next day off
with me,
wasting the hours wrapped up
in the cinematic education you can’t believe
i never got.
i’ll take breaks to trace shapes
in your back
with my fingertips,
a gentle reminder that i’m still here,
next to you,
where i want to be.

the natural light drifting into my window
caresses my bare skin,
soft and warm,
just as you do
on the nights we spend
this world has made you hard,
but it has yet to affect
that colorfully painted outermost layer.

do not be afraid to rest your hands on me.

your golden touch fills
my body with a tenderness you wouldn’t believe possible.
— king midas has soft hands

(Source: racheldispenza)

Anonymous asked: How do you go about making your zines? Not content wise, like actually physically making them. What materials do you use & stuff?

for the three i made already: i wrote down thoughts in a moleskine, scanned them with my phone, edited them in photoshop, and printed them out.

for the one i’m currently working on: i’m scanning some film/disposable photos and editing them in photoshop, writing with the paintbrush in illustrator, just kinda messing around to see what i like.

that last post will be in a zine i’m working on. my goal is to have it done by the end of spring break!

you write your name all
over the city, but never in the color
i picked out for you.
your black and white spray cans
still pay special attention to the places
i often go,
as if to say,
“don’t forget about me.
i was here.
i’m still here.”
the scribbles hope you’re never
far from my mind.

i’ve never been good with titles,
but if i had to give a name to
the last thing i wrote about you, it would be
“ignored signs we shouldn’t be together.”

from the very beginning
i dressed in caution tape and spoke
in signal flares,
all of which you chose to ignore.
it’s hard to tell which
one of us was taking the
greater risk.

your paint would be more permanent
on someone else’s streets.
my legs are faster than yours.
i erase you
from my thoughts quicker
than the philadelphia buff squad can
wipe you off the walls.
please don’t write on mine
— if you wanted to send a message, you should’ve written my name instead (via racheldispenza)

(via racheldispenza)