mindless rambles

"i am finally being taken care of!" (you have never seen such kindness)

"next to each other they are perfect and effortless and i am misshapen and out of place." (they will always be more beautiful than you)

"come out here with me and ill tell you all the crazy beautiful things i think about you" (you are halfway in love and he never came)

"what valid reason would i have to be angry with someone i care about?" (your emotions pushed him away)

"this is what falling in love feels like" (this is the only true thing you have ever thought)

"i wanted to believe that for once in my life someone thought i was worth it, but in the end i was begging him to stay and it still wasnt enough" (you thought he could learn to love you too, but he walked out of your room for the last time)

i am beginning to be convinced that i fear love. what other reason would i possibly have for turning away when i catch myself staring for too long? i admire and long and pine and i try and fail to stop myself from doing so. i want to much to care openly and fearlessly and sometimes i think i do, but other times i feel my claws sink into my heart's bedposts, arms spread wide to hold everything in. if i did not fear love then surely i would feel deserving of what i am given? surely i would not be moved to tears by my first experience of every small good thing? i have waited my entire life for a sliver of kindness that i never expected to recieve and it shocks me to my core when i find it looking for me. it is a rainy day and the thing i fear the most stands in the distance, waiting on my acceptance. i am terrified and i run into it with open arms.

 

 

living is an exhausting thing. waking up to the same face and the same body and the same mind is something that can only be endured for so long before you beg for change. you are made of love and it hurts like you are the only one it can truly exist within. but love surrounds you and you are blind to it. can you not see the way the leaves kiss the ground, a gentle hello after months out of reach? or how the bird can recgonize her lover's call from so far away? or how those people you always wonder about were worried sick, almost as sick as your mind was? or the way he looks at you? he lets you see, you just choose to remain oblivious because it is easier than accepting the truth that you are not the only lover in the universe. it lives within you, yes, but it also flows within every pulse, every breath of the world around you. i beg you to open your eyes, look into your own in the mirror and accept yourself as you are. look at the boy that cares about you and the friends that would kill for you and i dare you to tell me again that you are an unloveable person. by pure nature, it is impossible that you are.

you will get over it eventually. you will move past the sudden shock of freedom when you finally escape your hometown that never truly felt like home and the room that was too large for your comfort but too small to contain you. you will sit in your just-past-new home in your big-enough-to-hold-you-this-time surroundings. you will sit and hear the sounds of others and realize that that voice down the hall does not belong to your little brother, but instead someone you still have yet to meet. you have a new life and you will simply exist within it, just shy of loneliness. you cannot find the card you were given on your birthday, the one you believed to be too delicate to be discarded, so it sits, piled up among graded tests and odd drawings, collecting dust miles away from you. your name on the front cover will fade over time, but the signature within deserves more than to be forgotten like this, more than your cold abandonment. your childhoot pet thinks the same, sits on your always-made bed and wonders why it feels so empty. you will be kinder to yourself, though. you will see a much larger picture filled to the brim with people just like you and yet so completely different. you will look in the mirror at the person you tried to kill and you will learn to forgive each other. there are many years to come, and for the first time you can believe it, no longer weighed down by the heaviness of the people that have percieved you before this very moment. it will take time, though, so for now you can just sit out the window and watch everyone pass by.

i find myself missing words i have yet to hear. i cling like plastic to any warmth i can find until the condensation fills me up and falls from my eyes. you look at them so intensely and yet you do not see the depth of my longing for your attention. i don't know how to tell you that i cannot see myself the way you can, so i need you to make me believe it. hold me close, physically and verbally, until i can feel as lovely as your eyes tell me i am. seeing is not quite believing, but hearing and touch are the most persuasive senses. trace the patterns of my fingertips with your own so that if i forget who i am you are able to remind me. teach me to know myself and through that i will come to love you.

you sing from her throat and her eyes disobey

but she cannot fight your will or your way

you are a man and she is a dove

vocal chords broken and mauled from your love

you are something i can never become. in less time you have lived somehow more, become more, created more. you are more than i have ever been and that thought shakes me to my core, shreds my skin to expose my inner weakness. there is nothing but blood and bone inside, would you look different? if i took a knife to your skin would i find songs that you claimed before i had even had the choice? i suppose this is why you are favored- you are everything people expected me to become. i fell short of it years ago and now i am scrambling to catch up but there are no rocks left to hold; i climb and slip. i lost my chance the moment you surpassed me, before we met, and now i am left sitting in the shadows as you recieve the love and opportunity i once thought i deserved. how is it that we are so similar and so different? why does everybody only see me as second to you in passions that belonged to me first? you barely know me, because i now live in fear that you will realize that i am the lesser version of you, that you recieve credit for discovering what i have known all this time. am i holding myself back or is it the cicrumstances i was born into- set on a fated path of eternal failure. i am unsure whether it is fair of me to dislike you for this, but i have never been as good of a person as you, so hate swells inside me until i am consumed with thoughts of incompetence. maybe if i disappear i will finally gain the attention i so desperately crave- because if i die then that is an experience you cannot do better, you cannot join me there, you cannot claim anything of mine. my life is lived in the shadows of others.

when did we drift apart? talk to me

i am choking on the heat of your words as they pull me in with tangible hands. my fingers are down my throat to stop the flames crawling up. they char my fingerprints, enable me to commit the crime that is you. i breathe smoke. i long and burn. i will die of it.

there is something under my skin. 

i feel it under my neck where i place my two fingers, searching desperately for signs of life 

between faint beats there is something else there, alive and vibrating

it begs and pleads for mercy

it wants me to be gentle

so i suffocate it. 

i am no longer somebody good- i have not been for some time now

somewhere between loving and losing my desires dissolved and floated into the cold

they got lost in snow that was too frozen for my fragile hands

i do not wish to be gentle anymore, i say, using a dull tool to stab at the icy sheet covering my old self

i clutch it to my chest, turn it on myself

who's fault is it that you feel this way?

i finally understand that there is nobody to blame but my own trust

i am not meant to be an important part of other's lives, as their love is conditional on my convenience

do you look back, sometimes?

there is a certain softness in me, and i am not quite sure where i learned it.

from my mother perhaps, who cries when she gets angry. her love was freely given, but there is a thin line i have not yet crossed before it is withdrawn.

maybe it is not as much something i have learned as it is my fatal flaw. 

it sits somewhere that hands cannot reach, nestled warm and tight between my lungs. it sucks in all warmth, an attempt to let me seek it out from others. i am told my fingers are eternally cold.

i know that it did not form from my own experiences, for then it would have died long ago. i have lost other's affections just as fast as i have gained them and that much hurt should have shut my heart down, slow its beating. the opposite happened, and every person i love gets shown more and more of myself.

soon there will be nothing new of me to give. 

all i wish is to be held.

will you lend me some warmth, love? will you let me live underneath your ribs, make a home in whatever crevice i find? i am so cold, do you see? i need to be held until the heat seeps through my skin and lives in the hollow of my bones. will you do this for me? i will never ask anything of you again if you can take this chill away from me.

love me in the dark, darling, for there i can hold on to the illusion of beauty. it is a luxury to feel so lovely, to revel in my own femininity instead of pushing it aside to become something much rougher. do not look at my face, sweetheart, for there you will find everything i wish you couldn't see and everything you wish you never had.

i find art in the outline of you that my eyes trace as you sleep, the gap between your lips as you breathe. verses to a song unwritten are murmured with every rise and fall of your chest; the crescendo follows your profile as you gaze at me, all but worthy of a sculpture. the gleam in your eye is worthy of a book of its own- but i am not a writer. i am just a poet that finds inspiration in the slivers of air between us. a muse, some would call it, an obsession, others. but no matter who i am or what i create out of these lingering dreams, we are here

now.

words are whispered in the minute spaces between the air and the tongue they fall off of. you say them into my skin, as if they come so easily to you. you call me lovely, a precious thing, and hold me as tightly as you can before my lightly cracked porcelain will begin to shatter. you tell me these things softly, like you're trying to tell the entire world and that's exactly what i mean to you. and when you say it like that, darling, how can i do anything but believe you?

you have been through so much, the both of you.

you laid awake at night, not thinking of your own well-being but worrying over his, as if you stopped he would cease to exist. but that’s not true, is it? he will be remembered throughout the ages, you will make sure of that. even as he has left this earth he will still hold his head up high, marble glistening in the sunlight. but you know more than just his legacy. you know him intimately, despite him not knowing you fully in return. you have seen his highest and lowest moments, and loved him through it all. everything you are is for him. every breath that fills your lungs is a beat of a song in his name.he is woven into your soul. that is why you stay, because you belong to him. yet you would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant protecting him from dangers he both remembers and will never know. oh, how you love him, how you ache in his absence. that is your fatal flaw, that is why you have failed; your love for him overwhelms your sense of duty, and that is why you are here, ankle-deep in cold water, falling apart to the sounds of your own cries. you stand alone now, echoes of final words ringing in your skull. you decide that there is no you without him, that one cannot exist without the other, so you no longer try.

you can rest now.

the water in my lungs evaporates yet i still drown in your shades of blue. maybe if things were different your name wouldn't taste metallic on my tongue, maybe your breathless laughter would fill the room instead of the greyscale mourning of a connection that once was.