December 2011
11 posts
I’ve set the world on fire a few times.
And everything seems to burst into flames except you. Like you have some stupid immunity to the god damn world. I hate that about you. The fact that you can ward off anything.
I read once that everyone in your dreams is someone you’ve come in contact with some time in your life. I saw a girl stand next to you and every night she sits in the...
Do you know I used to write about you?
Everything I strung together had your fingerprints on it.
I’d write like you were listening.
I know you did at one point. At least once.
I read it now and I don’t remember. That was a different time. A different place. A different me. A different us. The world turned a different way back then. My life was a different color then.
I still...
Sometimes it hits me like a pile of bricks and sometimes it crashes down on me like the rain after the biggest cloud has passed overhead and sometimes it taps me on the shoulder and before I can even turn around it whispers “everything is going to be alright. everything is going to be okay. You will be back in the morning.”
But sometimes I feel like I am being crushed by the weight...
I tell you while you’re sleeping so the stars can hear it too. I’ve written it on your sleeves for when we decided not to speak. I’ve said it so many times my voice refuses to let it out. Its a wonder how you can still hear me.
I swear I haven’t slept at all since you’ve been away. I’m doing something much different when the sun goes down.
I saw the stars...
I tell you every morning.
I’ve told you a thousand times. In the distant buzz of your alarm clock when you’re half asleep. When you try so hard to go back to wherever sleep took you.
Maybe you were with me.
I fall down the drain when you wash off yesterday. I hide in your pockets that hold your keys. Swinging from your fingerprints that you leave on every inch of every single place...
I keep holding on to that small little inch of hope that keeps me close to you. and sometimes I think its getting bigger. And I’m scared that its going to swallow me before you have a chance to come home.
and then I think
do I love you..or the idea of you? And what about me? do you love me, or the idea of me?
Do people fall in love with ideas?
Because
you’re very real to me.
I...
You have the kind of words that would break bones and melt away my hands and I find myself telling you anything just to keep you from falling apart.
I just want to climb inside your thoughts and take a nap in your yesterdays.
It only gets better from here.
It only gets better from here
It only gets better from here on out.
I’ll use every vowel, every letter, every page of every dictionary....
Sometimes I write to you, about you, for you. and I wish you’d read it as I wrote. I wish you’d feel me punching the keyboard in your lungs. every single letter leaving scars The pencil writing the alphabet in your veins. So you’d look down at your wrists and see, swimming in blue, the words I could never say out loud. Or you’d open your hands and a novel would play out right in your palms. ...
I want to be the hands that pick you up. The hands that push all the hate away and the hands that take care of you until the end of time or until you don’t need me anymore. The hands that hold your heart and keep you safe. The hands that hold your face next to mine and keep you close always. The hands that cover your ears when you don’t need to hear and the hands that cover your eyes when I don’t...
I’m inventing the things we need. I’m half asleep and reaching for the paper to write it down so when I wake up I can remember. Like something that makes the north star light up when I thought of you and needed you to help me find my way home, even when I’m sitting in my own bed. All the constellations would point to you and you’d see it and I’d hear your voice and I’d know which way to go. Even...