Tag: relationships

Messy

I am a mess.

 

My mind stops working and my words start falling

Out of my mouth like the clumsy ramblings

Of a middle school girl who doesn’t know

How to talk to boys yet.

 

I feel the corners of my mouth move involuntarily

When I look at you and see you smile.

Fire brushes my fingers when I touch your hair

Or hold your hand

And feel warmth creep up my body,

But I know I am holding onto borrowed time.

 

I am used to being the one leaving–

Jumping from state to state like a nomad

With no sense of place,

But my movement hits pause while yours hits play in a new city,

And I am met with this restless uncertainty

That settles over me as days grow shorter, nights longer,

And sleep fades away.

 

I don’t want you to fade, so I’ll keep my eyes open

And concentrate on the soft lines of your face

And the crooked way your mouth grins

As if you’re up to something.

 

I’ll trace my fingers over the parts of you

That give me warmth, comfort,

And a space to fit my body in some part of the living.

 

I’m going to miss walking with you while the city falls silent

Beneath old stone buildings and bell towers.

 

I’ll miss the ramen noodles with karaoke

And late night movies that went on for hours.

 

I’ll miss this span of time between the spaces of your fingers,

but I like this piece I get to have for now.

 

And when now turns into then,

I’ll remember the moments

When I listened to your voice in a city asleep.

 

Suffocating

This isn’t what I asked for.

I asked for freedom and confidence to open my hands and catch promises,

But I feel crushed by a suffocating loneliness that bids me to go to bed.

My eyes close and I let the darkness fall in on all sides,

because I realize I am afraid of myself.

I am not content with sitting up at night, listening to music,

Writing in a bed made for one person.

There’s this empty space beside me, cold and unloving,

Reminding me of a time when it was filled.

Now I’m filled to the brim with emotions,

Holding my face in my hands,

Wishing he was here to listen.

But I am quick to forget how it felt when he listened.

He listened to speak,

So he could tell me the image he wanted my body to portray.

He pulled me into his world and eclipsed mine in a blanket of

Black and white devoid of any of the color I created.

So I trade a warm body for solitude,

And tell myself I am strong, and I can be strong alone.

Listen

Talking sounds more like listening

To bursts of thunder crackling in the distance

Filling the room with static

Until the build up in our space becomes charged with rage–

Until everything has changed–

Until our bodies become nothing but pieces of wreckage:

A chaotic explosion for the barren wasteland

Where our minds are left behind to deal with the aftermath

made by our hands.