Don't Lie To Me If You're Putting The Dog To Sleep

don't lie to me if you're putting the dog to sleep

i know what you're doing. you think that you can protect me from the tragedy, the inevitable spiral i will go through until i hit the ground and sit there clawing at it, ripping up the flowers from last year's graves. the only thing we are capable of giving is death, i remember saying to you, and now i am killing the lilies you planted to make it look less like the entire yard was dying. in my head this happens in an instant but when i look outside the flowers already dead, from thirst and heat. it's the middle of summer, no rain for weeks and nothing can grow without water even if there is a body decomposing underneath the earth. we cannot afford to water the plants we have grown. what did you say? about how there is beauty in the destruction of things. now i remember why you love me. the car engine starts and you are trying to talk me out of going by not talking at all so i am talking for you: and i call out don't leave yet i know what you're doing. i can see you carrying her out to the car and this isn't the reaction you wanted, you were hoping to be quiet but now you have to take me along. now that i've seen the blankets and the unwashed sheets there's no going back. not for all the flowers in the world. don't you dare lie to me and say that's not what you were doing. i know you better than that. i have to persuade you that closure is better than a lie, a hook slipping into place when you clasp that chain around my neck i know that i am difficult at the best of times and dangerous at worst but if i am to bear the weight of this one more time let me see the tragedy unfold and let me watch it with my own eyes. there will be a peace in knowing there was nothing we could do. you sigh and shut the car door behind me. i cradle her head in my lap and on the way back we buy more flowers for the garden. we can't be sure that these will live either but anything is better than nothing. you won't look at me and i tell you it's not your fault. i had to know and i'm sorry that you thought this could go any other way. besides, how did you think you could hide it from me? i would've known when you brought home the body. at least this way we can bury the guilt together.

my voice crackles like the edges of burnt paper / absinthe and green tea the lining of my throat / is ragged from disuse and the effort of healing. my words are sparks and gasoline / burning their way up again and again and the scar tissue covering my wounds / is made into flame

@cityskylinesofimaginaryplaces, SCAR TISSUE (excerpt?)

requirements for magic

the faeries said you had to give up something to be with them.

the wolves said you had to have teeth and claws and a howl like cold air on a moonless night.

the dragons said that fire comes from within and that you needed to have a spark.

the vampires said you had to die.

the warlocks said you had to know sorrow for immortal years and the devil in your blood.

the witches said you needed magic, strong and dark and earthy.

the winds said you had to have hollow bones, a body that could be lifted.

the woods said you had to know how to grow without knowing which way was up and to fight for every inch you gained.

the ocean said you were already a part of it, salt and water and blood. you just didn’t know how.

the cliffs said you had to be made of edges if you wanted people to impale themselves on you.

the mountains said even they started out as little as you. maybe you could be strong one day.

the desert said you had to know thirst before you understood how to love the rain.

the rain said it would wash away everything if you let it.

the storm said you had to be wild and raging for its magic to work. you had to be angry.

the night said you do not how to be a creature of the dark, magic and manic nights. you could not be one of us if you tried.

the day did not say anything. it simply rose and let you learn in the light.

you gave up your sadness to their faeries and learned how to dance.

you showed the wolves your teeth and told them about the blood on your hands. they taught you how to scream and bring down the moon.

you took a drop from the sun (or rather you lit a match) and gained a coat of scales made of burns and grey cold ashes.

you died. there was no coming back until they pulled you from 6 feet under. you died but you were not allowed to leave and that is how it goes.

you told the warlocks that they could keep their devil because you had your own. yours just was your sorrow and your blood.

you brought the witches a tree and laughed when they didn’t understand. they gave you magic and in return you buried the sapling.

you undid the chains that bound you and let yourself go free. nothing could tell you where to go except the winds, and even they would not bother.

the woods were dark and lovely. so were you, even in the light, but you always knew which way was up. that’s where the trees go.

you were the ocean, salt and water and blood. there was no changing that.

you sharpened your knifes on the rocky cliff-face and jumped to prove your point. the edges broke. you did not.

you told the mountains how tiring it must be to be made of stone. they agreed and wished to feel something at all.

you knew how to love the rain long before you knew what it was like to thirst for water and thought maybe the desert wasn’t dry at all. it just didn’t have enough to love.

you let it. the rain poured down and you were clean.

you became wild and raging and fierce like a storm, left alone to run its course. when you were angry, you were a hurricane and even the magic feared the collateral damage.

you learned how to be the night and understood why it was so dark. you could be it if you tried. you could be magic.

the day said you are.

love defined

storge• /ˈstɔːɡɪ/ noun, Greek: Στοργή (familial loyalty)

1. your brother likes to tease you about everything relentlessly but the one day someone else says something is the day when he stands up and punches that boy’s lights out because “no one gets to talk about her like that” and he just smiles when you ask him what happened after he comes home with a black eye. 2. when you come out to your family accidentally in the check out line of a Meijers your mom just laughs (and for god’s sake you were twelve and you didn’t know a thing except that you were pretty sure you liked everyone and not just boys) but she still took you to church on Sundays and said “what did you think i was going to do? you’re my daughter, you idiot. i love you.” 3. the only one in your family who knew what you were saying half the time was your father because you both spoke sign language and could yell at each other across the room saying “KANGAROO!” and start laughing while everyone else looked on. you made a habit of trying to learn new languages together until you could both speak in German and French too but the only words of Gaelic you spoke were the ones you said every day- mo gaol orst, tha gaol agam orst. 4. family is not what you think it is and neither is love. both are what you make it and both are worth fighting for

philia• /ˈfɪliə/ noun, Greek: Φιλιάς (friendship)

1. there is a divot in the road up ahead and it’s caught all the rain that fell while you were walking through this quiet neighborhood with your bare feet, sneakers in one hand and Emily’s shoes in the other. 2. she has green flip flops that match the green trees and it’s the last day but also a beginning, the start of another road that you walk down when you turn the corner. 3. you are barefoot and you splash through every puddle, every crack and you walk down the middle of the road together. this could be sad but instead you talk about conjugating French verbs and how there is a way to say you, me, us, we, together, forever with no strings attached. 4. Alyssa said if you ever needed to talk to someone that she’d always be there, don’t worry about it because that’s what friends do, right? and the thought of that makes you want to cry because who ever knew how much it meant to have someone who would be there.

eros• /ɛɹɒs/ noun, Greek: ἔρως (romantic love)

1. what arrows struck the hearts of men and caused them to feel a love like this? what arrows and what bow, what reason could there be to inflict us with this strange and bitter wonder if not to make us feel alive? 2. had you known how fast and how hard that you would fall im not sure you would’ve made the same decision but i am sure that you would have believed in and made the same love. 3. open your mouth and swallow them down like sugar and blueberries that turn your tongue purple but your lips red like kisses. you are a pair of hands begging to be held and a pair of lips waiting to be kissed and kissed and kissed until you are dizzy and the world is made of shining colours. 4. there are epics and poems and songs and movies and books and thousands of words written to describe this love and yet the story can be told over and over and over again without us ever tiring of it.

agape• /əˈɡeɪp/ noun, Greek: ἀγάπη (selfless love)

1. selfless love of one person for another (especially love of a spiritual means) 2. love that knows no body or no boundaries. love that can give and give and give until there is nothing left but everything, because there can always be more. 3. you couldn’t begin to understand how to love like this because to love like this is to be god but you can try because heaven knows that we can be good when we want to. 4. this is what was meant to be known as love.

/lʌv/ EXPLAINED :: @cityskylinesofimaginaryplaces

road trip: everything looks better framed by a car window

synonyms for destruction:

girl 
pretty face but sad eyes 
and you know she’s going to ruin you 
gently, but it hurts 
the way she tears you apart and 
picks out every thread 
as careful as when she sews you back together 
smile lopsided and wrong down to your bones. 
destruction does not come fast, is not easy. 
is quiet and gentle, pulling you apart the way the world ends- 
a collapse inward, broken doll 
on joints that could not stand 
folding, paper with edges creased 
and a note that says 
"i love you" left on the bedside table while you sleep. happiness like a corrosion, spreading through your veins.