these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.

thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.

my artist website is here.

Oct 29, 2012



(we breathed at each others mouths, panted at the open wish.  

we stared at each other, point blank,  blue eye to blue eye. 

he asked me if i was an atheist.

he had such a slow southern drawl.

he is the first man i ever watched masturbate.)

at a certain moment 
a certain level of detachment becomes necessary.

maybe one day i can be the thing that you can feel safe attaching your dreams to. 

maybe one day you can look at me and not feel abandoned.

maybe one day you can look at me and not feel like abandoning me.

maybe one day we can lay down, side by side, and just look at each other and talk easily, without any expectations about tomorrow.

maybe one day it'll be okay to think about tomorrow.

maybe one day thinking about tomorrow won't be so scary.

maybe one day you'll be able to brush my hair out of my eyes and fall in love with my smile.

maybe one day you'll be able to brush my hair out of my eyes and fall in love with me.

maybe one day we'll be able to tell the truth to each other and not get upset.

maybe one day i'll open myself to you in the way you've been wanting me to.

maybe one day i'll let you watch me.

maybe one day i'll be able to sleep below your warm body and resign myself to that lovely ache of hearts beating against one another, out of time, through so many layers of skin and sweat, belly button to belly button, my tits against your chest and my hair falling in to both our gasping mouths. 

maybe one day we won't be strange shapes in each others day.

maybe one day i won't drink so much.

maybe one day i won't stay up so late.

maybe one day we won't be strangers.



Jamal Frederick said...

This is great...I think many of us live and continue for the possibility of a maybe, and that's all many of us need...Whatever this is an exerpt from, I want to read the rest...Let me know when the first reading is when your book comes out

angela simione said...

ha! thanks, jamal! it's another excerpt from the epic poem i told you about. i've been writing for the last year and a half. it should actually be a lot longer than it is. i'm giving myself til the end of the year to keep adding words to it and then, come january 1st, whatever i write next automatically becomes Volume 2.

i'm totally NOT looking forward to editing this thing either. i edit it here and there but sequencing this this thing is going to be unbelieveably hard. maybe i should just play 52 card pick up with the pages and let it ride?

thank you, my friend. :)

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