Linger•

Fickle is my touch when I come across your scent on my sheets… It takes me by surprise and pins me down, like a dream within a dream. A reality I can’t wake up from. I stumble upon particles of your memory drunk on my pillow, swaying between my neck and my thighs.
My throat collapses and words fail me as I try to lean on you.
Embrace me
Tumble upon me
Take me by the hand and tell me our secret is safe.
Tell me your ribcage is my shelter
Your breath my resistance
Your skin my token.

My sky is dark at dawn, my eyes are weary at dusk, and the time in between is tainted with the possibility of my thoughts falling apart from this cycle of doubt. My palms are sweaty, my head is heavy but mostly my bed is empty and my home is in a place that isn’t mine.

I miss you like the world gives a damn. But time is cruel and distance is delusional. And home is a place where memories wait to consume me.

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Idle anthem.

Some things are better left unsaid, in the pit of your stomach, festering heartache of what could have been. Some things are better left alone, in dark corners of houses that used to be your haven.

Love, your heart is a gruesome desire of “can’t be” and “what should have been”. Your soul is tainted by screeching voices coming out of your bones.

You’ve come a long way, put the past in a box, wrapped it up nicely in a ribbon. You’ve made yourself a little gift, haven’t you? Thinking that if something so ugly from within looked remotely pleasant, it would feed your imagination with crude images of maybe-s.
Straighten up, hold it in, smile little puppet. You haven’t even began to understand all the ways in which you are broken.
Stand tall, aim high, you know it’s only a matter of time until you fall. But that’s alright because in any case, what other choice do you have?
You’re made of tiny bits, glued together by hopeful redemption, by sorrow and ambition. And you are worthy of love, the kind that will turn your scars into works of art.

Contemporary art°

So smoke the flowers in my head into oblivion, desperately trying to turn memories into stories of pure fantasy. Tell me one more time that my bones grew thorns into your delicate skin. Draw on my back the scars of your heartbreak. Shed tears into my palms so I can turn them into a trophy and place it behind bars on a pedestal of sorts.

Darling, drain it all. Stain the sheets of our wilted petals. Fall apart on the pavement where we first realized it was all breaking into a million pieces.
And then dance.
Dance like the world owes you a lover. Dance like our love owes you empowerment. Move like your soul is made of mesmerizing ondulations.
Is that what you’re looking for?
A voice that resonates into your spine to convince you that you are ok. You are ok. You are ok.

Salt.

There is something very poetic about the sound of the waves crashing against your skin, wrapping you in prickly sensations and thrusting you towards my reaching arms. I revolve around my own spine and untangle my legs to make room for yours… you smile, the sun reflecting off your eyes into the horizon, your shoulders a place where I want to make a home.
We swim to shore our faces to the sky, eyes wide shut to a foreign reality. Your fingers slip away. I reach the shore. And you drift away.

Facts.

There is a tangible reason for the love I feel towards everything that is you. An un-divine explanation from the galaxies within your eyes. There’s a theorem to decipher the magnetic attraction between the tips of my fingers and the arch of your back. I swear to God I’ve read the proof. I saw the graphs that align with the perfect way you fit into my arms at night to fall in between my collarbones. And I drew the charts from the freckles on your back that led me to the constellation in your mind.

My love, you’re exponentially growing roots in my spine, setting me free from all my inhibitions. Morphing into a Lilly in my gut, spreading your leaves in my lungs.

So when I tell you that I know that your love is unfathomable, it’s not because my heart can’t grasp the immensity of warmth that you bring to my soul; it is solely due to the fact that my mind would have never guessed a love so infinite could exist.

About last night°

Grab the sheets by your tightened fists as I run a flower up your thigh. Breath into my ear with muffled moans and whisper that you crave more… Your mouth is wide, but all your voices are haunted,and your nails are deep, eating at me… 

Lock your eyes with mine as you quiver and shake. I want to look into your soul when in a moment lost in time, your lives collide into one.

Let me grab you by the arch of your back and push you onto my skin, with the taste of sweat down your neck, onto the tip of my tongue.

Come with me as I come into you and let’s quiet everything in our head.

Hands on mouths, ankles spread apart, teeth in skin and your taste on my fingers.

[The sun comes up, and I’m still hungry for you.]

Tiny lullabies°

I want to stay up til 5a.m. talking to you about how rivers make a melody only tree leaves can hear, and how sometimes, if it’s really quiet outside, you can see someone light a candle in the mountains… I want to tell you about that time an old man crossed the street, and that made me cry and go back home to curl up under white sheets stained with wonders. 

My skin has questions that only your nails can answer. And my lips have answers for the clouds in your mind… Then you rock back and forth in the pit of my stomach and mesmerize me with things like breathing.

And last night, the stars came down to sleep in my bed, wiggling between my toes. But nothing can compare to your eyes undressing me…

So please my dear, know this much, if anything else matters in the world, it’s faded and colossally undivine…because you, I think of you, in colors, in black and white, in earth and that makes all the sense in the world; doesn’t it?