And What Are We All Trying To Do, Except Poetry Away The Pain.

And what are we all trying to do, except poetry away the pain.

~A Writer's Paradox

“I love you, Andrea,”

“I love you, Lucy. Thank you. Thank you. I am so sorry,”

“I love you,”

“I love you,”

A brush of the pad of her thumb over my knuckles on the hand with the knife and she interlocks the fingers of our free hands.

I hold on to her words. Her promises. Her. I hold on to her.

“Andrea, come now, please. Before the music ends. I would like to go with the sound of something lovely,”

“You were so lovely,”

“Andrea,”

“I love you,”

“I love you,”

She is raising her hand–my hand, to her throat. Mine is closing. I can feel her heartbeat practically trying to escape her chest and mine seizes.

“On the last four notes,”

My hand is shaking those her’s is steady. Lucy. My home. My hope.

“Andrea, my hand may falter but yours cannot,”

I was going to massacre something beautiful.

“I love you Lucy,”

“Andrea,”

“I love you,”

“I love you,”

10 notes. The tears have stopped and I don’t know when that happened.

9 notes. My breath has stopped, and I don’t know when that happened.

8 notes. My world has stopped turning, and I don’t know when that happened.

7 notes. My mind has stopped running in circles, and I don’t know when that happened.

6 notes. Her hair is darker then it was last week and I don’t know when that happened.

5 notes. The soft space between her thumb and forefinger is callused and I don’t know when that happened.

4 notes. The piano player has started at the beginning of the fourth last bar again, and I don’t know when he decided to do that.

16 notes. She is leaning all the way into me. Giving me all her weight. How am I sitting my straight? I don’t know when she did that.

15 notes. “Andrea,” 

When did she start using my first name? I don’t know when she did that.

14 notes. Presses the tip of the blade into the left side of her throat with our right hands. Her touch soothes me and riles me, I don’t know when it started doing that.

13 notes.“Our love is intangible, they cannot take it,”

12 notes. I know.

11 notes. I remember

10 notes.When she started doing that.

9 notes. Saying,

8 notes.“I love you,”

7 notes. I will remember

6 notes. When she stopped.

5 notes.“Andrea,”

4 notes.“Now,”

3 notes.“I love you,” I breathe.

2 notes.“Now,”

1 note. Her hand drags. Her weight shifts. She moves. I follow. Just like it has always been.

Ugly Love

Colleen Hoover

~T.R.

Everything about this is violent

The waves of

Anger

Joy

Grief

Acceptance

Are all tsunamis

I haven't inhaled in weeks

All i know is water

All this air burns

But i cannot tell anymore

If drowing or breathing

Hurts more

Its just

So much pain

And you did not heal me but you did something more practical...you made me forget. Just for a moment. And it was worth all the pain you caused in return.

~Why People Fall in Love with Heartbreak~