Etheral Melancholies

Word vomit. Love. Beauty. Hatred. Poems. Written thoughts. Regret. Sadness. Healing.

[perfectfeelings]

“Making love was never about you and me in a bed. We made love whenever we held hands.”

— Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You

[gyossefka]

Audrey Benjaminsen

[etherealmelancholies]

When it was Fiction

I’d think about how bad it would hurt,

If I ever drove the route I’d take to your house knowing that’s not my destination,

I’d think about how my stomach would feel,

When I hear the songs we would sing while you’d pour me a glass of wine,

I’d think about how my tears would taste,

Waking up and knowing there will be no message from you,

I’d think about the taste of your tongue,

and the smell of your hair,

and feel of your touch,

and your beard when it gets long,

The creak of the hard wood when we stood in your room and held each other,

“You smell like weird candy”,

The color yellow.

I’d think about that annoying strip at the bottom of your tv,

I’d think about standing on my tippy toes to reach the light when I got to your house before you,

I’d think about how the oven makes it hot,

and the windows don’t do much,

and you’d trace an ice cube across my skin,

I’d think about the way you kissed my neck,

and touched my hips,

and rolled me over,

I’d think about your raspy voice.

I’d think about our first kiss,

I jokingly told you no,

The way you sat up and gave me the smallest peck,

Moon River.

I’d think about your eyes,

The sweetest sadness lay in them,

“Melancholy” I said,

Your boxy shirts.

Your pile of hats.

Your cook books.

I’d think about the way your lips would form my name,

My love.

I’d think about your soft soul,

your ability to love deeply,

your constant worrying,

your fears,

I’d think about the things we never got to do,

The food you never cooked me,

The movies we never saw,

The way you’d exclaim when I said something inappropriate,

I’d look at our photos,

and listen to your voice memos,

I’d read our texts from the beginning and watch us fall in love again,

I’d cry until there was nothing left.

Until I was empty.

Until the sun stopped shining and there’s no breeze in the trees,

I’d weep until I heard no sound,

until my voice gave out,

until my lungs last breath,

I’d see you in everything,

Everything.

And I’d think of our last kiss,

I cupped your face in my hands,

I was eager to get home,

It was late.

If only I knew then,

I would have savored it.