And Suddenly The Fragility Of Life Seems So Much Immanent. So Much More Tangible. Than It Did. Even A

and suddenly the fragility of life seems so much immanent. so much more tangible. than it did. even a moment ago. as though if i were to lay a hand on the frosted window pane of existence. it would shatter under the pressure. my breath pulled onto the cold breeze beyond. tugged farther and farther away from this candle lit room i once inhabited. and this revelation. all at once. thrills and terrifies me. and the only thing that keeps my itching fingers at my sides is the knowledge. that the wind has already led you farther than i will ever be able to catch up. so instead. i close my eyes and listen. as though you might still call out to me through the way the air catches the leaves and makes snow dance. that you might still reach me. and i might yet reach peace.

“Our love was Tightening a corset while gripping a bedpost Our love was Thrown Kitchen Chairs Shattered Bathroom Mirror Our love was Shut eyes Dark hickeys Our love was Overflowing glass of wine, sticky hands, sticky table Heavy Hotel Curtains Our love was Deep wound, just clotting Counting seconds on a broken clock Our love was Forget your day; Forget my name Lips sealed; Mind shut Our love was Wolf Eyes; Dark Night Makeup sex; No fight Our love was No goodbye Just gone”

— I forget his name, I don’t think I ever knew it Excerpt from the poem The Ways in Which I Have Been Loved

Time is a leaky bathroom faucet:

The one you always told guests you’d fix eventually. The one you always told yourself you’d find someone to fix eventually. And eventually...it just became part of a long list of things you were going to repair eventually. But just never seemed to get around to because--it just didn’t seem that important. 

Until: the water bill arrived. And suddenly your leaky bathroom faucet has cost you more than you ever thought it could. 

Until: you are lying in bed at night, listening to the steady drip...drip...drip...of a broken tap. Becoming more aware of every wasted drip...drip...drip...and suddenly you are overflowing. And suddenly you are sobbing over a broken bathroom faucet--

But: it is not broken, is it? Just...leaky. But: you are not mourning the dysfunction of your tap, but rather, of yourself. Why didn’t you fix it sooner? Why drip. Why drip. Why drip. 

Time is leaky bathroom faucet.

The one the previous owners warned you about, but: you did not mind. You were simply thrilled to have your own house. Until: 3 am, 3 years later, you are listening to the steady drip of a million wasted drops. Of a million wasted moments, Envisioning the oceans they’d culminate. 

Imagining how much better someone else might have used a glass, or puddle, or river, of that water. Of that time. Imagining how many lives a glass, or puddle, or river, of water--of time--could save.

Knowing that each droplet down that drain you are never getting back.

But: it is 3 am. And: you are drenched in exhaustion and double-dipped in ache and so you lay in bed. Fall asleep, to the steady drip drip drip lullaby of the leaky bathroom faucet. And promise: you will call the plumber tomorrow. 

love is only love at first, after that it becomes a convenience

I wonder sometimes

If you remember

And

If you do

Is it like how i remember it?

remember you?

No.

But.

I wonder.

If you remember at all.

Winter is beautiful.

Not just the pure white untouched haze of it.

But

The coldness

The cruelty

The restlessness

The relentlessness

Winter is beautiful.

In the way it can touch you through a million layers

And

Make you feel

Winter is beautiful.

In the way it remains when no one else does.

Refuses to go peacefully.

Winter is beautiful.

The brutal truth of it.

Winter is beautiful.