New Moons

Depth Perception.

the favorite bulb is the one that shines on a fogged up mirror

the favorite song the one loud enough to escape

sun drips down, sticky and slick,

on to what you cannot wear to the pool,

on to what you cannot eat after 4pm,

moon washes over, tightening, suffocating,

like the covers you wrap around yourself,

like the folds you pinch and pull,

like everything that isn't the same on your face or on your hair or on your hand or in your head

and you can't,

you can't iron it out, you can't cut it out,

every day that the moon gets fuller and every day that the sun gets brighter is the day you realize the beauty in everything but yourself and

every day that you manage to hide behind or be less than or just not show up is another day you compare the beauty in everything including yourself and

that's the day you don't like the results

so how long until our favorite moon isn't full anymore?

how long until it's the one that doesn't even appear?

love always, laura elizabeth.

Les Étoiles.

In the French language, to be born lucky is "être né sous une bonne étoile," or to be born under a good star.

Well, mon petit chou, the sky tonight is looking more beautiful than the one before we met, though it isn't quite up to par to the first time our hands became acquainted or certainly when our lips became lovers, the sky was beautiful when we were thrown together in a scene and even more so than when it was over, the sky was beautiful when it watched us talk on your driveway until an hour too late, and the night we climbed on top of all sorts of things was covered by one of the most beautiful of all,

mais j’étais née sous la nuit avec les meilleurs étoiles, parce que je peux te connaître maintenant.

love always, laura elizabeth.

Sunshine Days.

A lovely little post just to fill you in.

If you're reading this, you probably either care about me to some degree or you're a complete stranger, so I feel completely fine with saying what one of my biggest problems is: I feel so much more inspired when my heart weighs heavier and when my rainboots are downtrodden, which isn't to say that this past month or so has been perfect and joyful at all times but as much as I'm sure you'd love to hear about the stress in my life, that's something I should probably stick to verbally venting to Sarah. I could hide behind the fact that I've been too busy to breathe, almost, let alone write, but any good writer would shake their head at me for merely suggesting it. No, I haven't written because how do you write about one of the happiest times of your life? How do you describe feeling more loved than you can remember? How could I ever put into words the exact way he makes me feel safe even when he's not there because I know I'm in his thoughts the way he's in mine? Why do you think Taylor Swift has so few songs about how great her life is?

The fact of the matter is, there are a million different ways I could tell about how my heart's been broken. I can take the smallest fissure someone's created and write something eloquent about it, given enough passion to. But all I can say about my heart nowadays is that it grows warmer every time he cooks me a meal or makes sure to tell me goodnight, or that he opens literally every door, or that he massages my back, or that he continues to let me tickle him because he knows how much I love it, and I love all of it, and I love him, and I love the way he makes me feel every day even though I don't know how to express it at all, and I can't think of any better way to describe how well we work together than to say we can beat anyone at charades if we're playing together, and I might have a block when it comes to writing about happiness but I hope it's enough to say that I'm happy when I'm with him. So, there you go.

love always, laura elizabeth.

Embers.

I guess the shoe only fits in fairy tales.

Tonight, I'm considering putting my thoughts to flame,

just to see if you'd make for the fire escape

or still relentlessly stick around.

Tonight, I'm considering not closing my eyes,

just to see how well they would adapt

to not recreating you for a night.

Tonight, I'm considering just how you managed

to parade right on in without ever auditioning,

without ever paying the admittance fee,

and without ever learning your cues,

because now I can't even remember what act preceded yours,

all I know is that act ended and packed up and left

without me even realizing it, and I still haven't, and I won't,

and I'm considering how you really make me feel,

because it's alright to pretend I'm the ringleader

and it's alright to pretend I'm a lion tamer

and it's alright to pretend I'm able to spiral out of a cannon

but how long until the pretense burns away like I wish you would

and how long until the audience realizes I have nothing under control

and how long until you're tired of performing

I only have so long left in this town,

you only have so long left in my show,

so why don't we make it memorable while we can

and then let the embers burn down

love always, laura elizabeth.

Story Time.

"Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love."

-Albert Einstein

Imagine the exhilaration of speeding along the freeway at night, completely focused on the wind rushing through your hair.

Imagine the beauty of a drive through the autumnal canyon, drinking in every detail of the leaves and the trees and the people around you.

Imagine the crisp taste of a coke on a Friday night, partying with your friends because it's finally the weekend, acting like it's the last night you'll live.

Imagine the comfort of caramel hot chocolate, curled up next to a fireplace, reading your favorite book and relishing in your abounding free time.

Imagine the wonder of a fierce storm, water rocketing towards the earth like bullets, lightning lighting up the sky like nothing you've ever seen, the thunder right afterwards resonating in your very bones.

Imagine the nostalgia of watching the sky's tear drops slide peacefully towards the bottom of your window, tracing their tracks as they slowly make them.

Imagine the fascination of a different country, stepping foot in a place completely foreign to you and diving into the culture without inhibitions.

Imagine the relief of your own home, of your own bed, of your own pillow, of being surrounded by those you've known your entire life, those who will love you endlessly.

Imagine the bass of the best dance songs you've every heard, pumping through a room packed full with gyrating bodies, dancing along because no one's paying any attention to anyone else.

Imagine the rifts of your very favorite music, the kind that can make you cry because it's pure poetry put to a tune and all it's ever done is remind you of times lost.


Imagine putting all these things together, and giving the result a name, and tell me

Do you really expect love to make any sense?


love always, laura elizabeth.

More Poems, Less Sleep.

"You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."

-Mae West

Right now, Addy is [hopefully] asleep in the beautiful city. 

Right now, Benjamin is probably watching a movie.

Right now, Sarah is probably reading Nico a bedtime story.

Right now, Kelsie is probably watching tv with Taylor.

Right now, someone is dying.

Right now, someone is being born.

Right now, someone is about to give up.

Right now, someone is being saved.

Right now, someone's breaking up with someone else.

Right now, someone's about to go all the way for the first time.

Right now, someone just cheated on their significant other.

Right now, someone just had their first kiss.

Right now is the most important moment of everyone's life.

Right now is the loneliest,

Right now is the happiest,

Right now is the most heart breaking,

Right now is the absolute sweetest,

Right now is the worst,

Right now is the very best,

Right now is the only moment you have.

What are you doing with it?

love always, laura elizabeth.

TGIF.

"One of the greatest diseases is to be nobody to anybody."

-Mother Theresa

But here's the true, real, completely accurate and exact thing,

is that you're taking everything you don't know about me

and making it what you do know about me,

and it's alright and it's all good and all fine right now

because it's the weekend, weekend lover,

but what happens on Monday again,

what happens at the next beginning,

what happens next middle,

what happens next end and when will it really end?


Sometimes I wonder why we keep moving forward only to end up where we started.


Sometimes I wonder why we keep moving even if we don't know if it's forward,

we keep moving even if we don't know what we're moving to

even if we don't know when we will get there

we don't know how we'll get there

who are we going for

or why


The truest thing I can say about this

is how you're taking everything you don't know about me

and pretending it's everything you do know


love always, laura elizabeth

Hopeless.

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

-Robert Frost

write more, talk less.

smile more, sigh less.

think more, act less.

dance more, walk less.

sleep more, cry less.

hold on more, let go less.

let go more, hold on less.

allow more, push less.

defend more, tolerate less.

notice more, see less.

listen more, hear less.

remember more, regret less.

feel more, feel less.

love more, love less.

hope more, hope less.

live more, die less.

love always, laura elizabeth.

Cinnamon.

It only lasts if you make it last.

How mundane of you, to sit there and pretend like you're noticing everyone but me.
How mundane of you, to watch me pretend like I'm noticing everyone but you.

How mundane was it when the spearmint from your breath
breezed through my window when I passed you by
How mundane was it when my eyelashes fell off, remembering how
they used to brush the cinnamon off your cheeks

How mundane was it when neither of us tripped, neither of us hit the ground
but we keep pulling these Leaning Tower of Pisa moves on each other,
we never fell but we haven't been properly upright for some time now
How mundane was it when we pretended
but we were never pretending
yet we're still pretending

How mundane is it, that I can feel so much about so little and so little about so much
How mundane is it, that you're so utterly not mundane

love always, laura elizabeth

Night Owl.

Say what you need to say.

It's only because of how much I care about the stardust dripping from lamp posts that I've noticed how little you care about the storms dripping down my face, and it's only because of how much I loved it when you played me the piano that I noticed my piano hasn't been played since.

Have some of my words stuck to you, like yours to me? I can't shake them off. I can't peel them off. I can't scrub them off, though God knows I've tried. I'm trying. I will always try but you are the one who showed me how much energy has to be put into something that will last. I've spent so much of my energy on you, for so long. I've spent so much energy on all of you. It's only because of how little energy I get back that I've noticed how much energy I've spent on all of you. And I can't anymore. I can't give energy without receiving any, because that is why I keep burning out. That's why I saw spots this morning, and why I couldn't stop shaking, and why I almost threw up every time I opened my mouth. It's because of all the energy I don't have to expend on you anymore. I have much more important things to spill my energy into every day than you. 

Watch out, darling. Watch yourself. Your cheeks are beginning to crack from the over-concentration of salt, and the colors of your eyes are beginning to look permanently green. Your pillow is beginning to stain black where your eyelashes lay, and there is always hair stuck under your fingernails from clutching your head too tight. Your eyebrows are starting to stay creased, love, so be careful; my mirror can only hide so much. Don't become so stagnant. Don't forget to breathe. Don't let yourself become stone.

love always, laura elizabeth.