A Collection |
I wonder
what secrets strangers hold in their hearts - did he hold them in his arms and carry you off the cliff too or did he lay you in bed and cover you with sheets?
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Letting someone touch me
is like dancing with the devil. The way I flinch whenever someone goes to touch me or the way I have to try and train my brain that the boy that is holding me at night now isn’t trying to choke me when he moves his hand around my face - all reminds of a duet dance the stumbling and passion. Touching me in the slightest is like balancing on our toes to tango and I hate that my past still haunts me to this day and I think that everyone in my room with an outstretched hand has a gun behind their back and that at any moment a sweet encounter could be something else. Something terrifying, a reminder of why I don’t trust guys and why I’m so desensitised to the violence - why don’t my eyes close and let me snooze or drift into a place where I cannot be hurt? I am an adult that is learning to trust and to love from the start again - learning the basics of human connection and communication and sometimes I wish you could see through my eyes just to realise how dark the other side really is. You texted me the other day
my phone lit up and despite there nothing special set about your ringtone or about the vibration pattern attached to your number - I knew it was you. Now I’m chatting with my therapist about small talk, tequila, religion what you mean when you say you’re ‘over things’ despite having left me months ago. I leave letters to you attached to my poems and my work I doubt you’ll read them - we haven’t written in a while. I know it’s wrong - inviting you over, but you’ll come to my door and you can come in quickly before the people upstairs realise there’s an unwelcome guest. I’ll always find myself tangled in your path, our lines are forever connected and our tangled limbs will always outweigh the mixed messages in-between my own lines. I,
have spent the last three hours crying. My eyes sting and my entire face feels like this dull yet numb pain that I couldn’t compare to anything other than a gunshot wound. Each time my heart beats without you it sounds like a loud boom. Maybe because there’s a hole in my heart that I try to fill with memories of things that I did for you, all the compassion and trust you placed in me. All the times I got to hold you, feel your heartbeat against mine, see you take each breath and relax into me. There are memories we have that I will never forget. Each memory placed in a tear which I’ll keep in a little glass bottle with your name written on it. I wish your last memories were never filled with pain that you could have been graced with dignity not suffering - I wish I could have helped you. Maybe if I looked into the warning signs, read a little more online, maybe if I looked you and cared for you just a little bit more - I wouldn’t have to carve your name into a stone. It has been four
whole months since you’ve left, your jacket still hangs in my closet and you still have a draw full your stuff in my dresser. We never celebrated valentines day - yet I still think of you and our misfortunes - of our three year path that lead to heartbreak. Often I break down I sit on my knees and pray that you never meant the things you said - I keep your number saved in my phone with hearts and x’s and o’s just in case you call me which, you have when you’re drunk or high when you’re trying to remember why you hate me - why my world crumbles when you’re around I can’t see straight or hear the words coming out your mouth everything you do for better or for worse just sounds to me like you saying “i love you” I learn my lessons through
others, I’m just waiting for Sylvia Plath to; teach me art. Like, a really really
happy poem. About a fluffy high school romance, and each person treats the other like they’re royalty, like their love is eternal. A fantasy where, no one gets hurt and fights don’t exist, each person passes their classes and gets into the degree they want. And by twenty-five they’re married, each have full time jobs and there are two kids, Ellie who’s two and Marcus who’s about to turn four, and they live in the two story home that Marcus pretends is a castle, in which you are the Queen and he is a knight willing to do anything to protect his mother. A family that’s picture perfect, a house that’s filled with laughter and exempt from the horrors of the real world, until reality catches up and their ignorance hurts them, tears only stain pillow cases temporarily and young kids take naps during the day, an hour is just enough time for water to dry on a summers day. When you’re not around,
I can’t stop myself from imagining our future. A little brick house with a white picket fence and two kids running around - playing in a tree house. Your smile could be my favourite thing to come home to - going on drives to the beach on summer nights diving into the ocean feeling nothing but safety and security because you’re by my side. I would trust you with our children, let you place rings on my finger and take care of you when you need it most - you just need to let me. You came into my life
like a hunter an his rifle. You held me in your arms and when I tried to run you made me fight and even when you knew I was right you’d make sure I’d lose. But I’ll swear on your bible that next time you’re standing on my porch in the pouring rain I’ll scream at you - “Don’t you dare try and paint me black when I used to be pure gold.” Everyday
I’ll bring wildflowers to your door - leave them in your letterbox. Even if you move on I’ll make sure you remember that the beauty of wildflowers is that they will bloom anywhere and leave brightness and colour in every hole. |