the hurricane i'll never outrun @illusory-correlation - Tumblr Blog

i like the way your eyes change

when you say my name

i miss you so much that a shadow

becomes your silhouette

i let the darkness grow until

you swallow me whole

and i’m illuminated again by

your name on my phone

can you kiss me again like the first time

or will you always taste like sweet regret?

can we change what’s yet to come

or are we forced to endure our history’s debt?

i miss your instability

the way you taught me strength to stop your shaking

i hear your haunting words in my dreams

i always wake up suffocating in sheets

i’m scared that this piece of me will always be yours

i know if i show you, you’ll take it

isn’t it so easy to say you miss me now?

when it’s been so long, it’s tempting to take it all back

i’m so much easier to love when you only see me at my best

what kind of fool am i to kiss the same hands

that only touched me to attack?

and i’ll listen to your promises, but only for tonight

indulging in the taste of feeling like i’m finally right

my heart longs for the ghost of you

i knew before, but

as time goes on it’s easier to separate who you are

from what i wanted before

i filled in your blanks and created new pieces

and just because they fit didn’t keep them from falling apart

#writing #personal #prose #poetry #spilled words

you trace my freckles like they’re constellations

i keep reminding you i only have three

there are others with entire universes inside them —

i am smoke and alcohol and awkward laughter.

i am the Sistine Chapel crumbling down,

the Lourve on fire,

the fascinating destruction of perfect things.

you feel the art in my chaos;

you chart my stars when they’re hard to find.

#writing #prose #love #poets on tumblr #poetry

i left 100 stories in the kisses on

your fingertips —

an unconventional prayer

begging for an unconventional love

(or at least one bold enough to

cover the scars)

can we go far enough?

we can’t afford the penthouse, but

if we push the two twins together,

we can maybe make a queen,

and i can listen to your laughter

as we watch the sky from our

second-story window.

we can get ice after midnight

and make friends in the lobby.

the way you look at me will

make the desk attendant think twice

about her lover at home —

chasing the high of your secondhand butterflies

intended only for me.

i’ll sing you old pop songs over

a few glasses of wine and

trip over your feet as we

slow dance to Holst and Delius

illuminated by the orange glow

of nothing but the bedside lamp

with an audience of no one but a few ducks

falling asleep on the warm parking lot pavement

and wholeheartedly unimpressed.

— The Second-Story Suite

#writing #prose

illusory-correlation

“when it hurts, it really fucking hurts. shovel cereal into your mouth at 4pm, wishing you were somewhere else, wishing your hands didn’t shake when you hear that name. wishing on stars at 6am, making patterns of little sparks of light and calling it a coincidence. suddenly he and Orion share the same belt, the one he left on your floor, though you hated how he could be such a fucking mess, you’re tasting his shoulder blades from edge to edge, and you’re crying again: who would have thought that what you love so hard could break you so bad? fool me once, right? how about fool me a million times. fool me into your bed, fool me into your heart, fool me into your favorite song, fool me into running out of the room when it comes on. fool me into thinking something we had here mattered. fool me into thinking this was my fault, into grabbing hold of the rope you tied from the moon, without seeing it was a noose. shame on you.”

— fool me twice; shame on me, a.l.l.