Curious Fear

Curious Fear

i'm dreading it

i can't wait

i want time to slow down

i want it to hurry up

Future holds me in her hand

the strands of my hair

entwined around her fingers

and my feet glued to her palm.

i stray to Past sometimes

longing for her knowing embrace;

the comfort of her certainty.

but my hair only reaches my waist,

and the hands of the clock move fast.

so I look through the gaps,

watching the Sun

plunge below the horizon,

hiding its colours except

a pitying pink trail in the sky.

the following darkness is unbearable

until the Moon proudly shows off

it's blemishes in monochrome.

yet if their beauty were measured,

the scales would be left balanced.

i crave more,

hoping a new sight will find me through the spaces.

i look on with curious fear,

not knowing what shades of the sun

will paint the clouds tomorrow,

and which leaves will bathe in silver moonlight.

or if any of it will happen at all.

curling my body

into the ridges of her palm,

my lashes entangle to welcome sleep.

it comes with dreams of warm orange,

cold grey and midnight skies.

you don’t know how much you meant to me.

how the words that left your lips

pierced my heart,

lurking in my head for hours.

how the sweet texts you sent

are locked up in my gallery

after all these months.

i look at them sometimes,

the screenshots taking me back

to a time that may have existed,

to a version of us

that looks perfect

in the haze of nostalgia.

is that a smile or a grimace?

a bittersweet taste on my tongue.

you don’t know how much you meant to me.

that drunken voice note still haunts me.

“i love you”s whispered in the dead of the night.

hours before dawn broke;

days before your heart did too.

i'm not sorry though.

i was sick of us,

sick of running in circles,

of the loop we were stuck in,

of our never-ending endings,

one step forward, two steps back.

you were a habit I couldn’t break,

but it was time to stop.

like a wilted flower clinging to a branch,

it was time to let go.

old habits die hard,

but as the nostalgia fades,

reality slams into me in waves.

and I’m glad I never told you

just how much you meant to me.

I’m drunk and my head is spinning and there’s this pressure in my chest; I feel like my old tendencies are back to haunt me but if that was the case then why aren’t you here?

- S.R.

“What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don’t know and I’m afraid. I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.” - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Hate your love

when you said you liked my curls,

i spent hours

straightening them out.

you complimented

the calm blue of my nails,

so i painted them a fiery red.

then the skirts left my knees bare,

unlike the denim that kept them warm

before you said i looked good in jeans.

and the day your fingers tied

the laces of my high tops,

i replaced them with stilettos,

the heels as sharp as my tongue

slipping poison onto yours.

i didn't mind when your hands

grazed the flesh of my cheek;

after all, i craved it.

i wanted your lips chasing mine,

needing to stain them

the shade of my new lipstick,

wanted the pads of your fingers leaving icy trails

down the heat of my skin.

i craved your touch,

but i resented your affection.

with every change i made,

i swore to never be

what you wanted me to.

entangled in my fabrications,

deceived by a false sense of control,

little did i know,

that you had me

exactly where you wanted me.

i couldn't recognize myself anymore

and you loved every part of me.

me???? tired???? sleepy???? yes constantly