Erin

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You were as capricious as the clouds, as remarkable as your imagination allowed. Tottering with age, dancing wildly without grace.

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Time hurts and time heals so let it be both a testament and a haven.

4.8.16

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March.3.2016

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If he’s lost in someone’s eyes

the way he was in mine

tell him that I think it’s fine

that I’m fine. 

It doesn’t help to look away.

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You told me my brain was beautiful And that madness was a virtue But if you dissect each day and live in last week Those thoughts will always hurt you

{December 15th, 2015}

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You choose to sink?

Then sink.

Just know that it’s an even lonelier world at the bottom, settling in a distorted place where both light and sound fail to reach. As do other lost items, you, too, will eventually become part of the swampy bed in which you lay. 

A life submerged is not one of temporary relief. It is not one of clarity or comfort or convalescence. It is not one of length. 

Muster up the will to flutter your legs and raise your arms - not in surrender, but with reborn purpose. Resurrect the life that’s been hiding in the shadows of your bones for one last dance. 

You choose to sink?

Then sink. 

Just know that I’ll be at the surface with outstretched arms, prepared and longing for the chance to pull you up.  

As much as I’d like to, it is not in my power to make such a decision for you. Listen to the voice whispering in your ear, though it may be muffled, fragile, and discreet.

Swim.

I pray to God that you swim.    

December 6th, 2015 {8:34pm}     

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December 4th, 2015

The numbness will subside. Your heart and mind will eventually thaw.

I promise you, you haven’t lost yourself.

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But can’t you see? You’re so much more than your reflection.

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I am not one; I am many.

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and I see you everywhere -

         more often now that you’re not here.

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» A little rendition of the song, “Hey Ya!” by Outkast » Vocals and backing performed and created by myself (whilst avoiding homework, cleaning, and other real world obligations)

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11.16.14

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And all I want to do is sit on the edge of the Hollywood sign like they do in the movies. I want to fall in love slow dancing to a seventies song and throw pebbles at your window when the stars are out. And maybe it’s not at all what it’s cracked up to be, but in this moment I think It'd be nice.

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Storms Like You

You’re the type of storm I’d watch from the shelter of my front porch. I figured you’d tear through this little town with grace and blow out the toxic emissions that clouded my thoughts. I imagined you’d cleanse the dirt spackled cracks of these well-traveled streets, but chaos lurks where two fronts meet. I was wrong and of all things, I should have expected at least that. I could not dance in your rain, for you flooded the pastures we once leisurely roamed. The breeze you carried crawled up my spine with eight legs. The thunder you boasted rattled my ribs like chattering teeth. And despite the way the weather viciously changed, here I am. Touched but not altered. Storms like you are forcefully contagious in that they show up uninvited, raise hell, and continue on their way. You’re consuming with an unquenchable thirst for disaster. You’re the storm without warning and I’m just watching you pass by.