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Thursday, 19 April 2012

Aiming and it sunk and we were drunk and we had fleshed it out.

My soul is an overgrown garden, in which I am perpetually lost.

I collapsed into myself today, the trigger being some Coldplay song about
demons and loss. Tears fell until my eyes were swollen, until there were
half moons carved into the skin of my hips and my chest ached violently.
Her words are stones weighing heavily against my lungs- I feel breathless.
It's the paralyzing realization that the person you need no longer exists. I
meant only to say 'I miss you'.

In a vacant field I press my hands against the cold, damp earth and
make wishes on fallen leaves. Crimson stained fingertips, twigs tangled
inadvertently in my messy hair. It's more than my fingers, it's my soul
that trembles. It shakes like a silent tambourine and I wish everything
would remain still for merely a moment; just long enough for me to
remember how to breathe.

A girl with wild hair and cut up hands lightly touched my wrist last night,
brown eyes focused elsewhere. Her smile is soft and reassuring, though
I refuse to fall in love with a mere possibility. Still, I am falling all over
myself over a girl with crimson hair. It is hopeless, but her eyes are the
color I imagine my soul is; she looks at me and I am lost.

Wednesday, 21 March 2012

The asteroids collide

The air smells of campfires and springtime.

In bed with me sleeps a girl and a thick, transient grief, overwhelming
me before I even open my eyes, face buried in her mess of amarathine
hair. I adore the way our bodies fit together unevenly- it's imperfect and
familiar and I'm safe, wrapped around her like a second skin. For a
moment I want to drown in the familiarity of her flesh, forget about all
of my broken pieces until I come back up for air.

Her words shouldn't phase me but they shake me to the point of tears,
biting the soft rim of my coffee cup to keep from losing it entirely, wind
blowing softly though the open window as I drive home in silence. I'm
not sure anything could have made me feel more inadequate; more flawed
and alone for no logical reason at all. My room smells of her and I feel
nauseous, laying tangled in lavender sheets. My carefully decorated walls
suddenly feel suffocating and I close my eyes, cursing women and their
ability to destroy me entirely from within. The fragility of this balance we
hold is absurd and I'm tired of wrapping her up in my emotional insanity.
I hope this man keeps her content, and miles away from me.

I miss my girl with forest eyes. Her kisses, her calming voice. I'm glad
she's surrounded by beauty, far away from here, though four weeks was
hardly enough time for us. She placed kisses against my wrists, my neck,
my eye lids, my cheeks in the moments before she disappeared, her thin
arms holding me close for what felt an eternity, but still they fell away
far too soon, leaving me cold and fractured by the sudden, crushing
weight of reality. I tried so hard to memorize the patterns of freckles
across her skin in the early hours of morning, connecting them into
constellations with my fingertips, trailing over her arms, her stomach,
her small chest, whispering quiet words against the hollow of her neck,
but then her lips were on mine and I lost track of it all.

I'll blame my birthday for this landslide of emotion, it's quite normal
for me to be wavering on the brink of insanity this time of year. I'm
too tired to properly discern whether any of this makes sense, though
I suppose it doesn't matter much. I hope you all are well.

Monday, 20 February 2012

Does he know that I call you sweetheart?

Everything I desire is elsewhere and my sanity is wavering.
The trembling of my bones is beginning to shake my soul, nails perpetually
digging half moons into the skin of my palms. I spend so much time
wrapping my heart, my arms, my soul around fragile bodies, fragile
minds. It's paralyzing, that there is no one near.

Since she left, I have been falling in love with everyone; everything. The
evening sky, moonlight casting shadows against untouched snow, pretty
girls who wear knit socks, the warmth of the sun, returning slowly. A girl
with sea eyes who touches my wrist and holds my gaze and I keep waiting
for something to happen. I loathe the East coast, the way it is constantly
stealing away pieces of my soul. Three weeks is beginning to feel like an
eternity. It's nearly spring and I simply wish she were near.

-

I feel nothing for her, for the first time in years. There is this sudden
vacancy in my heart- a void in the shape of her that in time will morph
into the shape of something else; someone else. In the meantime, I'll fill
it with fresh air and laughter and fluid things like that. Anything to keep
from feeling the full extent of her absence.

Loud music and boys with gentle souls, tequila blurring my tired mind.
I lay my head against his shoulder last night, pointing out constellations
shining above desolate fields, illuminated by the pale moonlight. "I miss
you" he whispered, his voice nearly lost in my mess of brunette hair.

Some things, I will never let go of.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Undressed, with nothing to flaunt but my loneliness.

My fingertips haven't stopped trembling in days.

It's her words that shake me, midnight breath caught in my lungs, nails
breaking the skin of my hips in an attempt to hold myself together. Hand-
fuls of pills, waking up in tears on the bathroom floor, trembling violently.
It's attempting to say 'I need you' without speaking the words. I need your
arms around me. I need your presence for more than a fleeting moment. I
need you. It comes out in the form of inarticulate sentences and torn up
napkins and I'm in tears the moment she disappears. My bones feel hollow,
weightless. The only thing holding me down is the weight of my heart like
an anchor in my chest, I haven't been breathing. I am sore from trampling
fate and running absently into doorways and counters and girls with faces I
cannot remember who leave marks across my neck and numbers etched onto
my palms that I wipe off before any of it can leave a lasting impression.

The moment I manage to untangle my heartstrings, I'll wrap them around
frosted windows and constellations. Letters from Prague, where a boy holds
a quarter of my heart safe in his hands. A girl who presses kisses against my
forehead and love into my bruises until they fade gently away. Around
beautiful words and natural highs. Around a girl with crimson hair- her
glowing presence, her glacial eyes.