8 Favourites6 Comments272 Views
if ever were I to have a lover
it would be with my pillowcase--it has seen me at my messiest,sprawled out raw and bleedingas wrenching sobs vibratethrough my chest and my fingersare white knuckled and numb fromgrasping at my slipping realityjust a little too hard.it has seen me blank and reelingas I contemplate my finite existenceamongst quagmires ofstars in the small hours of themorning when sleep has leftme to combat my landmindthoughts alone as I buildand break myself intobite-size quantums.it has seen me in my rarest of forms,when my body feels like itscatching fire as a radiantbuzz unwinds the reluctantknots that have settle in my bonesand i can feel that stupid grinparting my lips so thatI may let my quiet world knowhow truly content I am.if ever were I to have a loverit would be with my pillowcasebecause knows mebetter than anyone else.
© 2015 - 2020 crystallized-skies
you swept over me like a sudden summer rain, your thunder echoed in my ears as your whispered words of endearment settled into the dimples of my cheeks, warming them with the dying rays of a hazy summer sun; and like lightning dancing in the heat your calloused hands danced across sunburnt shoulders until the skies turned an inky grey— and I was drenched.
we're so ocean weary - salt jeweled hair, no anchors to plant. i'll be plucking sand from between my toes for weeks. we roll the windows down in our cars and homes to let the neighbors in, to let the smoke out. and by the way our shoes slap the asphalt, humidity stalling sore ankles, you'd think we cause heart attacks. but we'll never tell you we're running from ourselves.
echolalia, live on. forever, forever. (#29)
it's easiest to displace and display, to misuse, uncork, disregard and mute with hands. we used them to end a war we didn't know was waged. but in the wrinkles of my palms, i spread the ant feet of your words into the mountain of my hands until they are but wisps at the tips of my fingers. your hands were your greatest quality. and they still are. i'd much rather end the story on that note, for it is a proper burial to know the soil kisses your weary knuckles.
The moment I saw you I was already calculating the space you fill algebraically, doing the dimensional analysis both awake and in my sleep until, over the arc of our tenure as lovers, I accepted the mathematical sums, and it continues to elevate and meander by cranial orbits and biological chemistry. You defy physics for why it's this way, and being together creating another chemical reaction when it comes to how I mirror you, turning into windows to cross over and meld into 3D.
it has seen me blank and reeling
as I contemplate my finite existence
amongst quagmires of
stars in the small hours of the
morning when sleep has left
me to combat my landmind
thoughts alone as I build
and break myself into
This is brilliant
This is brilliant