hurricane

You're the finest thing that I've done,
the hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still,
but I don't believe that it ever will.

wear it like an old overcoat

Lonely roads and lonelier street lamps are chasing me down, rolling me out across vast expansions of arbitrary highways. Someone's discarded cigarette butt goes bouncing behind their car, and its embers dance frenetically before being sucked up by my bumper. I drive. Drive to forget that this old feeling is snaking between the gaps in my teeth. Maybe it's the onslaught of autumn, the exhaustion from work, or knowing that the only thing waiting for me back home is my limitless (or listless?) bed.

That bed is a canyon, and the echoes of my voice get swallowed in it's cream linen walls. My heartbeat is a whisper, soft thuds beneath my rib cage that sink into the mattress. I used your warm body to ease the stark realization of solitude that my bed brings, and I'm sorry. I thought maybe the slow pattern of your rising and falling chest might bring me solace. I thought your arm around my waist might let me sleep less fitfully. I thought if I pretended to kiss you good night, I could fool myself into thinking I cared. But I don't.

It only exemplifies my loneliness. And isn't it ironic how us lonely types seem constantly surrounded by people?

I know that when this road sends me down its snaking branches to my home, the only thing I'll be curling my arms around is my own body. I might use these words as warmth, weave them together and pull them up to my chin. I'll find comfort in their complexities and seek sleep like some undiscovered, uncharted land.

Granbury, TX at Dawn

Seven A.M. is bared before us and
we tangle ourselves in each other,
in plains of ivory sheets.

Light breaks through the birch and I’m
under the branches of your arms,
the frenzy of your kisses.

They fire and misfire upon my
eyes hands
lips stomach
brow


knees

and in the creases of my elbows
while the birds rollick from branch to branch with
melodies in their bellies.
I’m breathing in the honeyed glow of morning in sharp, quick fits
while you test the edge of sunrise,
my broad-shouldered Icarus.
Your waxy wings of white,
your wanderlust,
Betray you as
you
fall
into me,

the first flush of daybreak.

and just like that,
everything turned upside down again.

shiny new

there's something really powerful to be said about being able to feel your nervous hands, fumbling words, muted laughter, tangled sheets, and good morning kisses.

and i'm so lucky to be able to feel those things again. :)
i'm playing it as safe as i can and trying not to rush into things (which is probably the worst habit i have)
but there's just something endearing about him that makes me smile.

emptying out my pockets

its weird how this has all come full circle. i used to despise you for being such a pretentious asshole and now here we are again.

i can pretend like you never existed in my life. i never wrote about you, never waited for the fall into your arms.

you are the pages in my story that get cut out.

and if i pretend like i never loved you,
it'll mean you never hurt me.

i won't apologize. i won't apologize. i won't apologize.
i want apologies.

i hope she can taste it when you kiss her with a tongue full of lies.

actually,
i hope you spit them out first.
i'm fine with being the girl you screwed up with. but let's not carry over this behavior, eh? she'll never know what's coming.

progress

god. i'm losing track of time. even worse, losing sleep.

how long has it been since i felt like a complete human being?
this is way more torturous than it should be.

my heart is still sewn to the inside of your shirt. you can go ahead and mail that back now, please.

maybe i don't need it after all. feel free to let the ashes of your cigarettes cover it, the rings of your empty beer bottles stain it. it'd feel too hollow in my ribcage anyway.

i think i'm becoming an automaton.