Mari-xx

i. if i had better recollection i would remember sticky summer skin against my fingertips and hipbones; your smile was never so large as when we caught fireflies and fell asleep intertwined beneath all the stars of the milky way sky ii. there were times in autumn that you took my hands and shared your gloves before sharing a kiss; we stumbled through fallen leaves and all the things we could not say with lingering gazes and smiles over backyard bonfires iii. i lost the winter moments when you stole my breath in visible gasps and pressed your lips against mine so they would not chap; we were snow angels writing on the ground but

i. you have broken me into one thousand and twenty-eight incongruent pieces; three years have passed and i am still stepping on stray shards of my soul and watching the heels of my feet bleed every time i walk through a dark room ii. the words you spoke and the things you moaned into my ear have wrapped themselves around my heart as intricately and stiflingly as the words i carved harsh and poignant into my skin with a thumbtack in the front row of english class iii. rage brought you through my bloodstream and into my aorta but my heart is too small to house so much shame; my skin is too tight and i cannot make myself fit knowing

sometimes, i just think in melodies and every sad song sounds like you.

i want to tell you that i've been sleeping less but dreaming more. i want to tell you that i've been waking up cold listening to the weather fold in and out of itself as the wind knocks on my windowpane. so while i'm wrapped up in not enough sleep, listening to my dreams and reality collide, i'm waiting for the winter to come and the snow to swallow us whole. since i'm sick of watching autumn paint the world better colors as i stay this same too-pale-shade-of-white that makes your smile seem a little less bright.  and as i fall for you, i have to remember that i'm nothing like those maple leaves--i'm not that beautiful. and you're n

I wrote a letter and buried it in the dirt. I wrote it for the tree's unraveling roots- just wanted to let them know that sometimes being awake isn't enough. I needed them to know that my mind is based on a story about a broken hand, and what goes on in my brain is not a rush of words, but rather a headache of loud sounds. and speaking is nothing more than these sounds falling out through my teeth. I needed to stop dreaming about losing my head and floating away. so this is me finalizing all things, saying I know I'm on the right track when I'm tied down and a train is coming. this is me screaming into a telephone, whispering that I'm scared

Daedulus didn't believe in fate or destiny, but sitting across the street from that coffee shop, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was wrong... "How long are we going to keep doing this?" "Well, we do have forever." He had said with a grin. "I'm serious." "So am I." "We keep finding each other when loneliness becomes too much, but then we just build each other up to tear it all back down again, it's not healthy." "Healthy is over rated." He knew right away that he had said the wrong thing, Ithildens frown deepened, they had been through this enough times by now that he knew what was coming next. "Are you saying this is over, tha

you're looking for the seasons in this silence since we've gotten too cold.

"so, tell me something about you." he whispered into my ear tracing my body with his lips instead of chalk, on a bed instead of pavement "well- my life is an experiment of bad choices and regrets." "would you say i'm one?" "no, you definitely are not." and we moved against each other. believing this wasn't a m i s t a k e - regret number one, wishful thinking. - i breathed into telephones and left you brokenwhispers in phrases like, i love you i was too preoccupied with six vowels and two consonants to sputter out ten digits, redialing you to my heart - a nine zero five (i love you too) eight two seven (inhale and exhale) thre

it's an early morning as the sun is rising, stepping into my mother's room and moving towards her bed, careful not to disturb the dark shadows on the walls, or the lulling silence that's filling the steps between us, i ask her when she wearily opens her eyes, "why was i born?" her face held no expression, and she didn't reply she didn't reply i might as well not have gotten out of bed today. i might as well be - _____ and sometimes as i'm sitting in the passenger seat, i lose track of where i'm headed. i lose track of the fact that i'm moving, i'm moving somewhere slowly across a map. i'm moving with the world, and i'm just one person o

i fall down a lot and while i'm laying back to the ground, somewhat starry-eyed with both my palms slightly grazed, i've been reduced to trying to explain the size of the sky to you. this is what i do when i have other things i should be saying but can't cough up right now. instead i'm mumbling about how the clouds have been wringing the bright blues of the sky dry with sapphire ribbons of raindrops for days. or about when you meet me at the shore and send shivers down my spine, all i can think about is how the sky never ends. i want to stand up and explain to you that i like my lightning without thunder and that i want whatever it is that's