Yuki

i write, sometimes og fiction & poetry. main @sasuke-and sakura bg & icon by the most lovely @hakucho-art !!! 💙💙

[evanescentblue]

Let me love the space behind your knees, let me press it with my scar fingers and kiss it, and hold in gently in my hands.

Let me love all of you, with importance, with tenderness, like time is forever and not a week.

[evanescentblue]

we’re all reaching despite (because of)

i want to be held softly, buried into arms pressed flush into skin until all of my world is just a heartbeat

[evanescentblue]

I swear, there’s a lesson here (somewhere)

we were young, pushing forward bruised knuckles & tired bones like the others, thinking we will / not break you had eyes of the night sky, almost black & sometimes i thought i could see the stars in them you said that i was beautiful and i loved how you lost your breath when you looked at my hands you say, my eyes are not here terrified, and i can’t feel your hands on my skin but your nails on my heart our elbows are stained with blue bruising with happiness as we tumble in the grass a tangle of dimples and laughter do you know what forever feels like? i think it’s a cup, a small one that sits on window stills and collects rain all seasons but can never keep it, you think its a cursed horse, in a dead land - waiting for a dead rider

we’re pressed against the books shadows, dark things in the darkness and i’m in love with you but i have never seen your face

[evanescentblue]

on cold nights, curled in our blankets and huddled together: our shoulders pressed together and laughter ringing out, ears tinged with red. i take your hand, carefully, secretly, my heart pounding so surely i think you must hear it. starting with a finger against yours. a brush of skin; something could be written accidental. my heart pounds harder. a second try: this time, more sure, with purpose, the back of my hand bumping against yours. something that can’t be explained away and my heart is so loud. i close my eyes. but i can still hear my heart. i think you might reject me, and i can’t make the leap, the back of my hand just rests against yours, but then — you complete it. you clasp my hand completely, so tightly, i startle. you make it so easy that i feel so silly for ever feeling nerves.

you’re grinning. cheeks squished; eyes like crescent moons. “what was that?” you ask, and i feel so ridiculous. we are already so close, crushed in this small space of our bed and yet, i was hesitating if i could hold your hand. i laugh.

“I don’t know,” i say.

you shake your head and i laugh harder. i draw my face closer, and still: despite the ridiculous, the knowledge i can cross this distant and you won’t turn your head, despite the knowledge i am allowed, i hesitate. and like before, you make the last move. you close the distance, and press your lips against yours. warmth. a pleasant feeling spreads all over me and it feels like my heart burst.

you’re grinning when i move back.

“what was that?” you ask.

this time, i feel more shy. “um,” I say. “i am not good at this type of thing.”

“I can see. so what type of thing are you good at?”

….this, perhaps, i think. loving you.

being right here: next to you, feeling the skin of your hand in mine and the heart of mine feeling like it might burst out of my ribs. seeing your face, hearing your voice and every part of my body loving you. loving you, the same thing as sitting next to you. the easiest thing. i couldn’t not love you, if i tried, i think.

you turn, suddenly, into a bright flush. all of your confidence and grin disappearing so quick into a flustered and i’m confused. then, oh — i realise. i turn into the same flustered mess as you. oh god, i can’t believe myself. i just said that out of loud, didn’t i?”

“….did you hear all of that?” my voice is a whisper: unable to bear the truth of that thought.

you nod, and damn. that’s really embarrassing. i duck my head. i am sure i look like I’ve been dunked in red paint. my hand is staring to sweat. so embarrassing, i think, again. “well,” I say, barely a murmur, “there. what I can do.” i can’t muster the strength to lift my head to look at you. i grip your hand tighter. i’m so curious of what expression you are making but still, i can’t lift my head.

i think maybe you’ll gently touch my chin and force it up. i hope. you don’t. so i have to make the last leap, this time: slowly, i lift my head and peak up and… oh, what a delight, i think. what a sight. how beautiful.

you’re still wearing that flustered expression, red all over and it feels like there’s confidence surging in me: I catch your eye and draw closer, closing what distance is there between us and kiss and kiss and kiss you. once, I am content, I pull back and smile brightly.

“I love you.” I say, confidently.

“….I love you, too,” you grumble back, a little later, voice a mumble that it’s hard to pick exactly what you said, but I hear it clear. my smile widens. I laugh.

“I love you,” I repeat and surely, I think, right now, at any moment, my heart is going to burst out of my chest for real.

[evanescentblue]

Sun-kissed hands. Beating hearts.

Something beautiful exists here.

[evanescentblue]

I fall into love like the first note of song that will become a masterpiece but its just a few scribbles in the corner of a paper and i have crossed out and written it so many times and makes my heart still when i play it on the paino because something sings and something bursts open something that i don’t know yet as  my breath hitches and  the sharp, clear sound of the keys strucks a cord inside of me 

but then, im playing the messy, unrefined masterpiece to you and  im hearing your clear laugh and throw my head back with silly grin, planning to make a joke there but then - 

something stalls i freeze 

the something i didnt know yet clicks as i watch the soft laughter lines of your sun-kissed face 

and under me the song turns into a unnoticed, choatic mess as i realise

oh im in love 

[evanescentblue]

An old story is playing, one about the sun and a boy. It’s one that you heard many times and one that still makes your heart squeeze  the memory of small, clumsy hands and a bright smile and the lazy warmth of a sun of a november day washing everything in soft gold 

On the stage, the curtain flows like wings and you remember how you tried to make wings once and it was a complete surprise but the shrill sound of joy made the disaster feel like perfection 

there’s photo tucked in your pocket that’s twenty years old you take it out with wrinkled fingers and smile,  heart full of something that you can’t put a name to yet 

It’s a wonder how much passes, isn’t it?

Before long, it will be november and there’s that same bright smile and you trying to make that same wings out of curtains but  instead of  small hands there’s are much larger (perhaps even more than yours) but they are still as clumsy as before and the wings turn to be a distaster 

but the laughter of joys and the photo captured makes it looks like the most beautiful thing 

[evanescentblue]

these crystals are sharp, brittle but so soft to the touch i cradle them in my hands, facinated and awed forgetting about the warmth of my hands 

they start to melt

and i try to  grasp the water turned crystal  to hold on to them for longer  but regardless of my prayers and my desparate, desparate hope they fall through inbetween my hands 

i watch  as my hands become empty 

and in the end,  there’s nothing left but my wet hands 

all these beautiful crystals you have left for me are gone  maybe i should have perseved them in a better way  but i didnt know any better  i didnt know that i was supposed to leave in the fridge to make it stay longer 

i was excited by them, and didnt think  I was too overcome by the giddiness of these beautiful things you left and  forgot that  maybe, thats why you didnt come back

[evanescentblue]

playful steps, a flash of a grin, and promise. a challenge.

childhood memories unravelling, years of chasing, and in the centre,

your prize

(freedom)

[evanescentblue]

Is the world falling apart, or is it you?

The sky is falling

The earth is crying, cracking open

the clouds are laughing, distorted and cruel and somewhere, there’s oceans and hands and softness and

I am being swallowed in

                I am being swallowed in

                                   I am being SWALLOWED IN

                                                                 I AM BEIN

[evanescentblue]

a fool is a fool

What a beautiful thing

Snarling, lashing out and wearing its sleeves inside-out No, that’s not your claws That’s your heart

And you’re destorying yourself darling

You’re slamming it against the wall, tearing it apart, throwing at people

& not noticing what is happening until you look inside and there’s nothing there

There’s nothing there

Nothing Nothing Nothing

(Ha)

[evanescentblue]

Madness, perhaps. It’s rinse, and repeat, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, rinse and—

But you’re not washing anything out, your digging, and digging, deeper, deeper, your hands getting all dirty, and muddy, getting all scraped and bloody, and it burns and pains but not enough. Not enough, you’re screaming as you dig more, claw at the skin. It’s never enough. Until it is.

Where are all the words for this?

[evanescentblue]

and i love so recklessly, with an unabandon like the sun that burns in the middle of night, regardless of who and where, the averted eyes and bitten lips. I hold on, curl my fingers tight around wrists and kiss strangers I will never see again because I fell for how the light edged them sharpness that was so soft and tender, in the moment. Not letting go when I should and letting my heart cling and hurt and despair and suffer until it exhausts itself and I’m on the move again and this time, ride the seas because I stared out of the window of my hotel and felt the wiff of the ocean and missed it. Dreamed of it, the saltness and the wetness and the adventure, the unknown that called for me. Through the lump in my throat and the tightness in my chest, I move forward despite it and say the words that screams inside of me and take that step that I would tip the world over. 

I HAVE BEEN ALIVE FOR SO LONG. LETTING REGRETS ACCUMULATE AND BUILD UP 

it’s time to be free 

[evanescentblue]

The past and future run in lines, distinct and separate but sometimes, the line blurs, becomes distorted, twisted. Something growing where they meet, where they overlap. An old fairytale of a desperate wish, freedom taunting over your head, laughter and spirits and love that tastes sharp and nothing like sweet, and beautiful as promised, as all the dreams had whispered. It dissolves, worned down by time and leaving just a vague feeling, and distant memories that feel like someone else, that sometimes feel like something you made up.

You were ten, seven, sixteen, and thirty-five. And so much more, and you remember faces but not names, have read the words you’ve written in another time. Familiar and unfamiliar—traced fingers slowly over the worned paper and the blotched ink, faded and unreadable words—have met yourself in another time.

You sat down in the corner of a coffee shop, curled your hands around a warm cup and sipped as you heard yourself speak. Familiar, and so unfamiliar. Remembered and unremembered.

Where the past and the future blur.

A childhood homeland taken over by new buildings, and new people. Changed until it became a stranger but the names remained unchanged, the memories remained unchanged.

Jess becoming Andrea as she laughs and throws her head back, banging loudly on the table—blond curls darkening to black and eyes narrowing until you are back in France, and you are sixteen and you're in Spain, and you are twenty. And watching the sun come to life, rich colours of fire spilling, feeling warmth crawl on your skin as something begins to birth inside your chest. Nestles itself in your rising heartbeat and it happens all over again. Jess laughing, and Andrea with her narrowed black eyes and small fond lips. It’s not the same image, not the scene—you’re in a restaurant in one, and the other, you’re at home but the thing that buds inside of you is the same.

The warmth crawling on your skin, heating your cheeks and the tip of your ears is the same.

The past and future blurring, distorting.

A grave marked with stone and a breathing, living person with trembling, old hands and soft exasperated, fond expression who twirled and who danced and who held your hand and kissed your forehead—was warmth, and smells that you can’t name and vaguely remember has become has lost its light and life and become smaller and smaller until it is now a silent, cold, hard stone which doesn’t have anything but a name craved on it.

Promises that have been lost, tried to be kept but swallowed into the storm of life—the seas of turning time, growing up and the world changing too fast for the seven year old you who had held the boy’s hand, grinning and said, We’ll be friends forever. Before March came and you were in another country, an ocean away and have started to understand that nothing was forever.

Not even memories.

It all fades away, becomes a lie, distorted until you are unable to be picked out from realities from the many dreams, hopes and wishes.

[evanescentblue]

October was too soft, too quiet for your wild, bright heart.

December is just perfect.

[evanescentblue]

Make me into forever. Hold me in your memories, and each movement. Hold me gently, sacredly, like nothing hasn’t felt as important.

Don’t let me be forgetten.

[evanescentblue]

Let me love the space behind your knees, let me press it with my scar fingers and kiss it, and hold in gently in my hands.

Let me love all of you, with importance, with tenderness, like time is forever and not a week.