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.
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.
You look at me with kind eyes that stretch into the horizon, and whisper words made from the melody of your heartbeats. You look at me with feelings that flow, pouring flowers from your lips and onto mine. You stay. And I push. And you stay. And I can’t breathe. Because I look at you with the sorrow of the words you’ll never mean. I look at you with blame for all the pain you will impose on my survival. I see you on my sheets, staining them with your scent that will curl up under my spine and unearth my lungs.
I look like a fresh Lilly with dew on my petals, waking up on a Sunday morning, with life sprouting in my veins. I seem like a drowsy drizzle on the edge of your window, pulling you from your soft slumber to come play under the willow tree.
But fundamentally and down to the core, I am a drenched log, expanding from all the humidity that has caused my heart to weigh me down. I am a leap of faith that has seized to comprehend distance and dimensions. I am a sentence of jumbled up words allocating letters to the sounds they don’t belong to.
Love, I trust your eyes, your lashes clutching to them like they’re what make you thrive.
Love, I believe in the air that blows through your ribs, bringing you closer together.
I just don’t trust the time that it took for you to fall, the same time it will take you to put on your coat and walk away.
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.
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.
Close your eyes love, your broken wings can’t fly.
Close your eyes love, you live in a land where memories never fade.
In an imaginarium where your heart is mine and my soul is yours, we fall into the sky dreaming. Playing with nostalgia like we do with fire, the one that lies within our ribs. Dancing with the longing breathing life to our elusive song. Taking it in as we fall apart into oblivion.
Complicated feelings require reformed words, allocating shivers to fingertips and spines to snowflakes.
So gather all your courage and merge it into my lungs, because I can’t concieve of a dream where I’m not spouting flowers out of my lips and into your existence.
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.
There’s a space between my lips and my tongue that is filled with overflowing feelings towards the curve of your smile.
I stare at you.
I listen to you.
But my cells are frantic, running around waiting for the moment they collide with yours.
In my nostalgic mind, I see your eyes lay down upon me and cradle me in your warm embrace. I see freckles on your cheeks map out the constellations and galaxies. And strands of hair fall from behind your ears to tickle my forehead endlessly…
You see there is a fire that won’t put out in my eyes when you cross the room to fall in my arms. And there are perfect moments, when I come home to you restless and uneasy, while you’re just sitting on the couch, the sun gracing your face in the most humbling way, to make me feel whole again.
So let me take those worries out of your nails, untangle your hair and whisper lullabies while you sleep. Because there is a sense of familiarity when you hold on to me, there is a sense of absolute serenity. And that’s how I know that you are my one chance at being remarkable.