closed 24/7

in another life i was amaranthinesuggestion

[comefurther]

the day i left, we went out for coffee. we had been going to the same handful of places for years, but, that morning, we tried someplace new. it was the early morning, the sunlight was particularly soft. the chairs in the yard were mismatched. i had known you so intensely, so intimately for years. every inch of your body, every thought you could have, they were a part of me. indissociable, unforgettable. yet, that morning, you felt new. sitting in front of each other, as we had done for years, felt like meeting a new person: the last version of you i would ever know. maybe knowing that i was leaving made us want to stay just a little further away, as if an extra foot of distance between our bodies would make the separation easier. you later told me you did not love me anymore at that moment. i know it’s not true. i know it’s just a bit of distance you are keeping away from me to pretend that, when i left, it was easy.

every morning i’m up early and the sky is blue and the sun is dewy, you become a part of me again. whatever you have said to me, this is how i’ll remember you. you, a part of me.

[comefurther]

loving you is muscle memory

[comefurther]

the day i left, we went out for coffee. we had been going to the same handful of places for years, but, that morning, we tried someplace new. it was the early morning, the sunlight was particularly soft. the chairs in the yard were mismatched. i had known you so intensely, so intimately for years. every inch of your body, every thought you could have, they were a part of me. indissociable, unforgettable. yet, that morning, you felt new. sitting in front of each other, as we had done for years, felt like meeting a new person: the last version of you i would ever know. maybe knowing that i was leaving made us want to stay just a little further away, as if an extra foot of distance between our bodies would make the separation easier. you later told me you did not love me anymore at that moment. i know it’s not true. i know it’s just a bit of distance you are keeping away from me to pretend that, when i left, it was easy.

every morning i’m up early and the sky is blue and the sun is dewy, you become a part of me again. whatever you have said to me, this is how i’ll remember you. you, a part of me.

[comefurther]

metamorphosis can co-exist with stagnation. i give my growth the grace to ebb and flow.

[comefurther]

you have to heal forcefully, violently. every minute, every second, you have to steer yourself towards brutally letting go. cut out the comforting, pleasurable, self-sabotaging thoughts like ripping out your own guts and laying them bare. look at them on the table and violently let go. you will heal, bloodily, murderously. it will hurt, but you will heal.

[financeprincess]

Sorry to break it to you but you literally have to face your fears and slaughter them. Otherwise you will live a small life that you do not want. You literally have to view your biggest fears and attack them head on. You have to fall into the abyss to find your way out. The easy path does not exist. There is no get out of jail free card. You have to allow yourself to die a spiritual death over and over again in order to reinvent yourself into the person you are actually supposed to be. And you have to be painfully honest with yourself and the people around you. It’s horrible but it’s truly the only way.

[comefurther]

why is it that what is best for you is always the most daunting and difficult and genuinely scary. why is it that i’m always searching for more, to be challenged, to be unsettled. why is it that i cannot just let myself be loved

[comefurther]

oh god i want to write but this doesn’t fill half the shoes of being loved by her

[comefurther]

my love is like a prayer. a mantra i repeat day in day out. a ritual i devote myself to.

and so perhaps my love is the beautiful thing, not you.

[comefurther]

i hope that when we meet again, you do not touch me. it will be too warm, too soft. i’m afraid i will never want you to let (me) go.

at night, while you think of someone new, i will think of your touch. and there will be two moments: the present, in which i am alone in bed, and the vast immense past, in which i was in your arms.

this hypothetical parcel of the future already lies as a vestige of the past. if you touch me, maybe i’ll think the past is a present to unravel. and surely i’ll be disappointed.

so when we meet again, i hope my eyes ask for your touch and i hope your eyes offer me a smile. i hope it is cold and uneasy. i hope i mourn in silence.

but please, oh please, do not give me what i crave so dearly. let me learn to be let go.

[comefurther]

i used to be a writer when i was young, in the real sense. i knew so little, but i made people feel. i spent countless hours – lunch breaks and red-eyed nights – on this blog trying to make sense of the world i knew. and i learned to know myself through my poem throat.

years later, i still write. i’m published, i’m praised. i know more. i’ve started to make a living off my words. but it’s not like when i was young. little robots help me find the right things to say. somewhere, somehow, the instinctive and honest voice in me quieted. but, oh! now i see i’ve always had the words.

my poem throat is starting to sing again, like a guttural scream, like a bleeding chorus. i want to write again, in the real sense.

[comefurther]

i am aware such is not the truth

and in your pictograms there is deeper meaning

but my love waits for me at home

and her arms so warm await for me

so soft

[comefurther]

you kiss me like i’m a secret

like you don’t want to know

[inkskinned]

you are a soft lover, a good friend. the kind that turns your phone’s ringtone up all the way because he might call you after a long day and you don’t want to miss it. the kind that watches the show just so you two have something to discuss each morning. the kind that stands with others while they tie their shoelaces. i-made-you-cookies kind of a person. i-remembered-your-birthday, how-is-your-mom-doing. 

you want to open your palms and say - please. i don’t need much in return. but be gentle to me, if you can be. be gentle, and i’ll love you wildly.

[comefurther]

from the bus, in the midst of motion sickness

[comefurther]

i don’t know what i used to find inside myself, worthy of pulling out like tugging out like ripping out, to show and tell and sell for a few coins i never really knew how to cash in. 

i used to say i was fragile and soft and needed help, don’t know where all of that brought me. i just can’t find it within myself anymore. and i’ve never been too sure of where it brought me. did i just learn with the years? did i grow thicker skin? most days, it feels like leather that i just can’t seem to go through anymore. not sure if i’ve grown stale or just changed. not sure what it means to not be a kid with a heavy heart and a few words to sing out anymore.

this evening, the wind was blowing outside and the leaves were swinging and i watched them move freely, no spine to hold them still. but for once i was content to be in control of my own body, every muscle held tight. content to be the one who gets to decide how i change and grow. but now that it’s dark out, i’m not so sure i’m in control.

i used to find something within myself to tie around my finger like a balloon holding me up a few inches from the ground, always floating, always ethereal. but gas wears out and leaks through pores and my feet fall back down, i always fall back down. i’m learning these days to be whole, holding myself in one piece. i think it’s easier being scattered all around, but i’m trying something new. 

seeing what i can find within myself these days is hard. do i have nothing left, so soon? or am i just new? when will i be grown? when will i know the ways my body fill?

[comefurther]

“she knows what she wants when she lets her heart flip over. but it’s never easy to voice, to let it slip out. so she tucks it into the back of her throat and lets it burn quietly. she calls the sizzle love. and it just doesn’t settle right in her chest. there’s a crisp in the way her fingers bend against your shoulder. she wants to hold you, but she’s afraid. because she’s learnt the hard way that things don’t always work out. it still tastes sour behind her tongue. love doesn’t come easy and she always feels the crash before the fall. then gravel on her knees, sand in her mouth, she’s afraid of the thorns growing all around. the last time it felt like a buzz. loud and fuzzy and just too warm. like unstable knees and sweaty palms and wanting more. but when she lets her heart flip over, she wants slow and steady and enough. when some of her is missing, she doesn’t want any more. she wants quiet and your touch shy on a friday night. morning, fingers cold against her hip and she tucks you in a little closer. this is what landing should feel like. easy. a quilted love, out of glows and grainy sentences. roots anchored into the ground with someone to lean on, someone to grow with. when she knows you are safety.”

— noon close, midnight dear

[comefurther]

“How do we forgive ourselves for all of the things we did not become?”

— Doc Luben, 14 Lines from Love Letters or Suicide Notes (via atlassuggestion)