“Just write a list.
It could be a series of steps to take, a list of best tips for something, or your to-do list. You can brainstorm the next great blog series or the random thoughts that come to mind.
Just write, don’t edit. Turn off that internal editor. And make sure it’s 500 words.”
He may have eyes the color of chocolate melted in the sun.
The kind of eyes that make you think every word unspoken
is a word about you.
He may have eyes as crisp and as clear as an autumn sky.
He may have eyes the color of jade with thick eyelashes.
His eyes may change color, according to his mood,
they may go muddy or clear, it all depends on how he feels.
He may be short or so tall that when you hold his hand,
you have to look up to maintain eye contact.
He may be tall enough that you have to stand on tippy-toes
to kiss, and he still has to bend down to kiss your forehead.
He may be so short he tells you not to wear those shoes with the heel.
He may be young because you were young too once upon a time.
He may be seventeen (because there was a time you were seventeen too)
with his mouth ensnared in braces and have floppy hair that fell in his eyes.
He may have bought you concert tickets and held you close when the crowd started to mosh.
He may have told you, “I’ll always love you” and held you when you trembled.
He may have looked at you like you were stunning in a pair of old gym shorts and a t-shirt,
hair still damp and smelling of his shampoo.
He may drink Jack Daniels straight from the bottle and throw plates at your head sober.
He may strangle you until every light in your mind is dimmed and you lose your breath.
He may hold you close, pin you down even, and while you plead “no”, he keeps
penetrating the moment, breaking through your breathless cries of “please, no”.
He may have told you he loved you, but when your back was turned, he was sneaking girls
into hotel rooms.
He may have created craters in doorways, a ringing in your skull, he may have promised forever,
but drugs looked like an easy shortcut.
He may have been the man who crossed your mind with the idea of a white dress & tuxedo.
He may have been the one who whispered “love” like a promise, “forever” like a secret.
He may have laughed at you when you brought up love.
He may have had his heart broken in a state where everything’s big
especially heartbreak and girls didn’t know the stones he carried in his pockets
He may have giggled when he talked to you on the phone.
He may have worn blue nail polish and smoked cigarettes with a lighter labeled “Cancer”.
He may have told you, “Smoking’s bad for you. Smoking’s going to kill you.”
A cigarette dangling from his lips.
He may have given you a tour of the constellations and included Saturn.
He may be six feet under at not quite 27.
He may have taught you how to write or how to laugh when tears were your friends,
and smiled at the enemy. He may have never held your hand, but when he hugged you,
all you could feel were the damn butterflies swarming, even though it had been years.
He may have given you a place to call home when all eyes made you feel uncomfortable.
He may have made you feel beautiful when you were in wool & knee socks.
He bought you books on writing, on Kerouac, and told you there are some people you never
forget (in hallways scented lightly of honeysuckle).
They’re just boys who break your heart.