String Theory

String Theory

About:

1. If god was meant to love me he would not have given me you. He writes this on your palm when the sky is an ink spill and he cannot read anything in your lips except the overflowing of magnificence that drips down your chin in rivulets of melrose perfume each time he kisses you.

2. Let his wrath come for us if it means I can spend my life coaxing your soul into each breath you take. You are dizzy in this jar of fingertips and closed eyes and skin to teeth to lungs to skin. Oh how you want to be as he is, falcon wings spread and scattering the Appalachian dust, each particle a wish to be carried upon cracked beaks and broken feathers to a deity who blesses the way your very essence trembles when he is near.

3. I think I mean it a little more each time I tell you I love you. Is what you wish to reply. But there are butterfly wings beating within your trachea, threatening to escape from your star-smeared mouth in tender waves of boyhood secrets and petal-filled laughter. And you are anchored to silence by the way his hands shake as he unhooks the saint that always rests upon his collarbone, his fingers brushing the fragile bones at the top of your spine. When he pulls away the saint sits on your neck, proof of his worship of you, even if it is damned.

4. I am merely another sacrifice. You think he whispers, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it was the cicadas, maybe it was the breeze through the wheat stalks, maybe you are drunk on his gaze and didn’t hear anything at all. 

Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

Fridge light starlight. Coupled with moonshine beams sifted through apartment blinds. Bare feet, barer legs, band t-shirt ball gowns. Cool hard wood floor only staining the tips of our toes because we are mostly floating. Teetering on the cusp of forever. I promise i won't let you fall (unless you ask me to). Come a little closer, little miracle, and let me warm the tip of your nose with everything I cannot say. Butterfly kisses that leave nectar residue on your cheeks, the syrup gently trapping dreams drifting through the ether. Swaying to a melody you hum already half asleep on my shoulder. I hold a galaxy in my arms and feel both infinite and so so small.

Wishes made over milk and cookies, too many to count,  all of them tasting like childhood. Crumbs of innocence litter the tiles of the kitchen floor. Sticky fingers and bottomless appetites giving way to eternity. Giggled promises made under comforters muffled in pillowcases. They absorb our whispers into their threads, keep us warm long after the chill of silence settles us. We say little. Listen to our heartbeats. Melt into the darkness. Become constellations. Hold the universe between us in our cupped palms as we drift away. Wake to find we have suffocated it as we slept.

~There will always be more poems for you, my love ♡

The sun tosses herself into the arms of the sea

His vast embrace, the only thing she has never felt too infinite for

She takes comfort in being swallowed whole for the night 

Savours the sensation of being devoured 

~ oh celestial love, even the sun longs to be encompassed sometimes, for it is no weakness to desire to be held. you are never too much for someone who cannot get enough of you.

"Just

Tell me

The truth.

I promise

I won't

get

upset."

It is a lie, of course.

But everyone wants

The truth,

Until they have it.

As it is always so much more gruesome,

Than one could have imagined.

I do not blame you

For becoming angry

For the truth is an infuriating thing.

~reflections on the gentle falsehoods that have never turned me away and the untruths that have always made room for me to believe when I had no where else to go

Achilles didn’t shake the sea floor with his sobs, share a bed with a corpse, and willingly submit himself for death out of grief and rage over Patroclus’s loss just for you bitches to reduce the infamous Rage of Achilles to the Power of Friendship