She only spoke in seismographs abrupt, exploding with words that parted the tectonic plates of my soul.
I let go of you faster than a sneeze, you slipped between my fingers and although I practiced holding you memorized all your ridges, I quickly realized I was never meant to hold you.
To love oneself, the conglomeration of atoms, molecules aspirations, failures down to the way your body jiggles when you walk— that is the greatest gift you can ever give yourself.
It is delicate one off word and that could be it but if that’s the case then so be it— Life is too short to walk on eggshells for other people, so instead, I’ll just make some scrambled eggs. You’re more than welcome to join me.
There are galaxies inside you, sometimes they pirouette make you point your toes in some direction you’ve never known but what you do know is that there are so many kinds of love to fill you up.
I looked at photos of you like paintings in a museum you were just a plain old mountainside a vignette of a harbor full of faded colors yet your description boasted of grandeur, of some artist I probably hadn’t heard of— You were always going to be untouchable, I should have known from the moment…
I am tired of a restlessness so deep in my bones I can feel it in my molecules, a restlessness marked by this incessant need to find my face light up from my cell phone screen, to listen to the voices of people on TV to chip away at a loneliness protected by me.
I am tired of searching for myself in the arms of someone else, I am impatient to heal from the wounds you inflicted and the wounds I inflict on myself, so I try to pass the time by counting every red and white stripe in this tent I can find. When I get tired of…
I love you because you chirp no matter the weather.
I am not interested in only half of your attention I want to be the axis upon which your world turns, the cure for your drooping daffodils.