Unfaded.

You’re way ahead by now, a million miles into the river that leads you back home. My heart is spread too thin, fluctuating between wanting you and craving the death of every feeling you birthed in me.
I’m way behind by now, walking down streets where you have sung drunken promises, only to whisk them away, right from under my lashes.
I escape your love and convince myself it’s redemption. I extrapolate to anger, reaching out for the fire within. I play pretend. I run. I run until I can’t breathe, until I crash face down.
So tell me love, have you been to the sea where the waves first whispered to us the story of what could be? Have you sunk your toes into the sand and felt the warmth of my hand on yours? Do you remember the sound of my voice aching for your fingertips on my spine?
Sometimes I wake up and my sheets are white and the sun is warm.
And sometimes I remember that you’re my tongue’s favorite taste. And I go back to the beginning.

Sundays are for lovers*

Come lie down next to me,

my fingers drawing circles in the palm of your hand,

your ear against my beating heart,

your lips drawing breath from my lungs.

Curl up against my waist and fit into my curves like the gods have created your body solely for mine. The sun comes in through light curtains, moving up your arm and throwing warmth onto your cheeks. I play with your hair as you’re caught in between your words and sleepy eyes.

The cat stretches and comes prancing to snuggle under your feet. Dancing shadows emanating from tea cups send aroma into our living room, while the soft screeching record turns, swaying melody in the corners of the house.

You sigh deeply and drift off into slumber,

my fingers intertwined with yours,

my mind at peace,

my heart in bliss.

There are moments of idle pleasure that bring back my soul to life: me bringing you serenity on a Sunday morning, you giving me a sanctuary on an Autumn’s day.

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Morning dew

Please don’t be indefinitely broken, little heart of mine. Beat kindly into the night and sing me the lullaby of how you used to be tender. Please pick yourself back up and paint the stars in the sky, save them from being forgotten memories of ancient lifetimes.

You’ve done this before… I’ve witnessed, in awe, your struggle to believe, that love does not come in ones.

That just because they left, it doesn’t mean you failed.

That just because you lost a piece of yourself, it doesn’t mean you will never be whole again.

Dust yourself off, little heart of mine. Don’t be weary over lost fantasies of what could have been. The stars don’t always align for you. But even if they don’t, you have been loved…

you have been loved…

you have been loved.

Patch yourself up, little one. You have been kind, you have been brave. You have been honest. You have loved with depths you weren’t even aware you could tap into. With oceans of longing and crashing waves into your ribcage.

I know you’re exhausted. I can see you crawling into your own mind, convincing yourself that heartaches are for the brave. Repeating over and over, that you are battered, bruised and on the edge of dissipating into thin air. But you deserve more. You are worthy of more. You are destined for more.

Lift your head up, little heart of mine. You’re going to be ok.

Nao – In the morning

Charlotte Cradin – Like it doesn’t hurt

Wild Belle – Our love will survive

Birdy and Rhodes – Let It All Go