I Wonder Who I Could Have Become If I Had Been Loved.

I wonder who I could have become if I had been loved.

I have this reoccuring dream

In which I am loved.

That is it.

That is the poem.

Short.

Because it never lasts

It never lasts.

The most selfish thing I have ever done is forgive you. Stopped picking fights just to stab you with the parts of me you shattered.

You cry me symphonies but I have never had much of an ear for music. Our desire dripping on carpet; harmonies in dissonance.

I dye my blood your favorite colour before I slit my soul open but you still don't come to the funeral. I told you once that I had poems running in my veins for you and you tore me open as I slept and drank me dry.

I tell myself it is not your fault you do not know how to be loved. And how often it is lost on us that nightmares are dreams too.

~what a miracle it is to hate you now

And there is nothing left unsaid, and yet a million things unheard. The chasm between us widening and deepening and every word tumbles down into the depths and we remain. Sore throats and hoarse voices and strained eyes trying to make out the details of your face that drift farther away with each passing eternity. And I suppose, that we could jump. But who knows what awaits us? How far we will fall. If We will hit the bottom alive. If we will drown in the accumulated sea of sentences that have amassed over the years. If we will see each other the same in the darkness. If we will ever resurface.

But I will jump first. If only to know it will be your voice that drowns me. If only to attempt to consume everything you ever tried to say before it devours me instead. If only to be suffocated by your truth. If only to be laid to rest here, amongst the sins we birthed together. Here, next to the slowly disintegrating corpse of our love. And perhaps I will never know peace. But I will have known the whole of you, And that would have been enough.

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.