Somewhere in the residue of my mind lays something dark and destructive. I guess I'd call it a grudge, but it feels like so much more than that. Ringing around my fingers like some sort of malicious epiphany crashing through the ceiling, it reveals to me every hidden part of every memory that lays in my mind. It mostly comes at night. Never able to commit to anything. Multiple dagger wounds multiply through every inch of my body like little army ants crawling up onto me. I've lost count of all the times I've crashed. "Everything that goes up must come down" C'est la vie.
But you, you were the climatic uprising of something in my heart. Every moment and every breath had you in it. Breathing in and out, crushing on you like a drug, you were vicious and corroding, poisoning me with every word and touch. I think I know your fingertips better than I'll ever get to know myself. Two AM lovers. Too much for a little, but too little for a lot. One foot out the door, always. Reaching over for my cellphone, transitioning between hearts and keys trying to keep my composure but it's too hard. Sometimes we just fall right back into our old habits. It's almost shameful that it slipped. We slipped. So why is it that something that was so bad, so destructive, so painful, so wrong got to me in such a way? I understand you always want what you can't have, but the appeal came from the fact that this was a symbiotic love, where the texture of your fingertips would slowly caress mine, like smoke signals, hinting love, but never claiming it explicitly.
"If you really wanted to mess me up, you should've gotten to me earlier"
"Could it last?" I watch from afar as you move the room - an incision cut open and stitched away at will. "Could it last?" I move, but my steps have begun to feel too heavy for me, and suddenly the mere distance that we once had now feels like I'm connecting flights to get to you. "Could it last?" I ask, and I position myself in some sort of angle away from you - an angle that allows me to see you without you witnessing me watching you and wanting you and wishing for you to just turn for a split second and just, even for a moment, want me back. This crowded room gives me no company. The echo of my footsteps traverses through my ears and back out, like a merciless reminder of how alone I really am.
I smell the scent of winter love breathing onto me from you, as you pull me closer and tie your fingers around mine. The way your eyes look spell out that I'm yours. Tear my world apart with your guiltless hands; I have given myself up to you for now. You scrape me against your heart, and my heart races through. Blood boils. Eyes clash. I never noticed how your eyes seem to gleam when we're this close, but of course, we're not really as close as I think. The tension has me hanging like a dancer on a rope. I'm treading on thin ice. I'm drowning in shallow water. I'm slipping onto you like sand. I'm just a time bomb, waiting to explode, and you're here holding me like some sort of treasure or prize. It's a shame your eyes say "I love you" more than your lips ever would.
Our love is like watching an eclipse; excitement pours out the moment we begin, and progressively the beauty intensifies, attracting attention with a glowing opaque outline. Opaque. Just like us, impossible to retrieve or maintain. Then, we slowly begin to fall apart and suddenly, we're petering out like the leftovers of a thunderstorm. The dew in my eyes is all that remains after your rain.
Sooner rather than later, the high tide of emotions that flourished randomly and almost sporadically calmed down, and left me stranded in the middle of an ocean of doubt and insecurity. Your presence was nowhere to be seen, and your silence told me more than anything you'd say ever could. Now all I got left was a scar made by the toying of my stitches, by messing with an open wound that was never meant to happen in the first place. Papercut love.
As I lay under the sheets, my heart finally reaches a point of balance, allowing the oxygen I'm breathing in to circulate my body. My mind still races at the thought. Congratulations, you've earned yourself a place in my memory.
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"But you, you were the climatic uprising of something in my heart. Every moment and every breath had you in it. Breathing in and out, crushing on you like a drug, you were vicious and corroding, poisoning me with every word and touch. I think I know your fingertips better than I'll ever get to know myself. Two AM lovers. Too much for a little, but too little for a lot. One foot out the door, always. Reaching over for my cellphone, transitioning between hearts and keys trying to keep my composure but it's too hard. Sometimes we just fall right back into our old habits. It's almost shameful that it slipped. We slipped. So why is it that something that was so bad, so destructive, so painful, so wrong got to me in such a way? I understand you always want what you can't have, but the appeal came from the fact that this was a symbiotic love, where the texture of your fingertips would slowly caress mine, like smoke signals, hinting love, but never claiming it explicitly."
ReplyDeleteThis was my favourite paragraph and I actually don't know why. Maybe your words. But aren't your words what I like every time anyway? ;)
Somethings about these words got me, though. "...like smoke signals, hinting love, but never claiming it explicitly." This part feels really true to me and it was like maybe I always knew that was true but I didn't... realize it until you put it into words.
I'm in a weird mood today so my comments probably don't make as much sense.
They make more sense than you think. It's weird moods like the one your feeling that helps me write. It's weird moods that helps people reveal what they feel and pour out. I'm sure we're not alone. I am on a weird mood myself as I write this to you, so maybe it is I that is not making sense right now.
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