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.
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.