It Has Now Been 13 Months 19 Days 9 Hours 4 Minutes And 3 Seconds

It has now been 13 months 19 days  9 hours 4 minutes and 3 seconds

Since I last held you

And 7 seconds

9 seconds

11 seconds

If I had known 

I wonder if I would have held you longer

I wonder if I would have been able to let you go

We were going to be stars

Tearing through the night sky 

Diamonds of light skating across eyelines

Dancing with ribbons of moonshine

Until our feet and souls ached 

But it would not matter because

We were going to be stars

We were going to slip

Into the depths of the galaxy

You

And

I

Let them make wishes on the diluted thought of us 

Trillions of miles too far to be touched

Or caught 

Or stopped 

We were going to be stars

Wrap ourselves around each other until we were our own constellation 

Let them make of us what they will

Stars do not care what they are named

We were going to be stars

And now that vision is a million miles away and so are you 

I stay up most nights fiddling with slips of moonlight that filter in through my open curtains

Sometimes in the quiet of the dark, I dance with the thought of you barefoot across my bedroom floor while the rest of the house slumbers

Afterall, stars do not sleep

I wonder if you feel the song echo through the chambers of your heart

Palms pressed against porch doors 

And birthday gifts sent in the mail

And impromptu deliveries of still warm baked goods

Made with the overflowing cups of time we try and make use of before they trickle through our fingers and down the drain 

Your smile is as radiant as ever 

And I find it in me to make wishes on the starlight glints that flicker when your eyes are caught in a beam of the sun or screen

You are

A star

I remind myself I am just lucky to still be alive 

But I miss you 

I grow more fearful of myself than the world unravelling around me 

As I become more sure I will come undone completely before it does

It becomes a race

Who will spiral away first

But time too wants to play

Suddenly a day passes in the blink of an eye 

Yet every second is eternity

The disorientating nature of a world turning so fast we often forgetting it is turning at all 

I close my eyes and try deep breathes to fend off the motion sickness

I sleep the day away and wake at sunset to a sky dripping mango sorbet orange

The summer heat never kisses my skin 

I forget the last time I went outside

I begin to memorize the constellations of my bedroom ceiling 

I rediscover the depths of myself and relearn to fear drowning amongst my sea of doubt

The TV drones in the background at 3 am

Talking about the unity overcoming us all wrong

It is not from something befalling us but rather by the thing we already had.

The vulnerability writhing in our veins.

We are all terrified

Of unbecoming 

More friendly smiles offered in the street lighting up eyes

All of us a little more willing to accept them

As though to say

I know you are scared

I am scared too 

But I am with you 

Link to the full post here <3

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In the palace of my mind

There is a chandelier.

Crafted from the shards of every shattered promise I have ever made.

(I always return to the scene of the atrocity to collect the peices left behind)

It is the most manficant thing you have ever seen.

Made up of every delicate dream and desire that was once whole.

Brilliant even if only a compilation of fractions of former glory.

It breaks the light to into a billion beams that illuminate glimmers of could have beens everywhere.

My house is glowing with the dancing rays that twist their limbs to perform every one of my mistakes over and over and over.

Moving breathtakingly across the wall, the roof, the floor, my skin like blood spatter. Warm. Spinning.

It is a mesmerizing thing to watch the possibilities play out in a trillion dazzling missed chances.

And in this way luminescence turns my home haunted house.

And I let it.

Become ghost with it.

Both the haunter

And the the haunted.

Bathed in light.

Blinded by glares the past.

Water of my Blood

1. What do you think happens when you clip an angel’s wings? You can’t see his eyes in the darkness, but if you could you think they would be full of ocean drop-offs and stinging nettles, the tide you were never enough to stem. You think you would be swimming in a lake at midnight with the feeling of something trying to catch your ankles, to make you dead weight upon his broken ribs and cigarette burns.

2. They fall? You whisper, afraid of the way his skin grows colder with each day that passes. Worried that one day he will walk right through you, somewhere you can’t follow, somewhere he won’t let you. And in the silence you can see fists full of angel down and ichor smeared over slaughterhouses. You can hear the water he is coughing up from the last time he drowned, lifeless as you turn him on his side.

3. It takes him a little longer to remember you each time you drag him to the shore, and you dread the day he forgets you forever, letting you wash away with the waves that skitter under your bodies as you hold him while he chokes on his life, on the tumors of your love that grow within him until he is more shame than bones. And you feel as though you should ask for forgiveness for loving him, for letting him think he could fly.

4. I think- the hitch in his breath is painless as he presses his cheek into the cold grass, hand taking yours so delicately you doubt his intention until he murmurs: I think they forget they were ever holy in the first place

Confessions of a Hospital Bed

I ask if you are afraid. You pull down your oxygen mask and say: 

I would tell my mother I am not, I would tell her the life she has given me has been more wonderful than I ever had a right to be gifted. I would convince her I am happy, that inside I am full of calm dreams and angels who have told me they are waiting. She will tell me to keep fighting, and I will nod smiling, unable to confess that the reaper appeared at the end of my bed two nights ago and hasn’t left since. 

I would tell my doctor the pain is bearable, not to waste effort on me, that I have made my peace with an unpleasant death. They will work to cure me anyway, not caring that this bed will be empty soon and I will be buried in the ground they walk on. 

And once the lights in my hospital room are turned off and everyone has left I would admit to the monitors that inside there is a terror so great it dwarfs the pain from this disease. I would say I am so afraid of death, mine doesn’t feel real anymore. There is a haze around me, the world is blurred and I burn to crawl out of this failing body and tear down the hospital hallways looking for a way out like a restless ghost. 

Your eyes refocus, and something within them buries itself as you cover my hand with your own, the IV tape pulling at the back of your knuckles. Before you slip your mask back on you murmur:  

But right now, I would only like to tell you I love you. That is all. 

I think you would scold me now if you knew how much I have written about the years you were still with me. The things you said, the moments that used to belong to us alone, you would bury your face in whatever book you were reading to hide your blush and tell me to write about something more interesting than the way you conduct to the music you are listening when you are lost in thought.

 I’m sorry my love, it is the only way I know to make you live again.