hanna

[lounsbury]

it's been nearly ten months we’ve been apart and time has only made it harder to keep myself distracted from the fact i haven’t touched your skin in so long.

distance between us feels like a split canyon at dark and i’m using the stars as a guide to find my way back to you. i’m not very good with directions but i promise i’ll find my way to you. you’re worth every mile, the whole two thousand.

and one day, the plane ticket will be one way. one day, we’ll share the same home - we can share the housework or lay in bed all day if we wanted to. i crave the nights i get to come home to you after a long day and you’re already at the door to greet me before i’m even out of the car. or the mornings we argue about who has to get up first to start the coffee pot, which i’m sure will be you. your love silences the distance. all the time we spend apart will have made this seem worth it, i know this to be true.

patience is not your strong suit, but patient you have been. if our distance has taught me anything, it’s that if i love you this much now, i can’t fathom how much i’ll love you when i’m there. you’re the best thing i have ever waited for.

-wherever you want me to be is where i’ll be.

[quay-writes-poetry]

And I’m not sure how many ways I can wrap ‘I want you beside me’ in these poetic words but I promise you that I wont stop writing until you’re here or I find out. 

You tell me you love the sound of rain and I tell you that I love thunderstorms, there’s always been something about the power of the wind pushing into the lighting stricken sky that reminds me of how small I am compared to the universe. 

What I don’t tell you is that your laughter has been rivaling for the number one spot of my favorite thing to listen to. That your voice calms my soul like no thunderstorm I’ve ever heard. That your smile reminds me of renaissance paintings that I’ll probably never be able to name but will always recognize.

I don’t mean to make you into something that is unrealistic to live up to, but understand that I will never allow you to believe that I don’t love it whenever I see you. That seeing your face doesn’t make my day, that I don’t think about you when my world slows down enough for me to hear my own thoughts. 

- And I’ve already told you that I could write poem on poem about you without growing tired, but somehow I still don’t think you believe me.

[lounsbury]

#cookiepoetry one of my favorites

[quay-writes-poetry]

And she warned me that her past was far from perfect,

That scars from memories long past still caused wounds that she hadn’t quite figured out what to do with. I knew that her time with past lovers hadn’t offered her the rest she had been longing for. And that she couldn’t help but be skeptical of new possibilities promising to be better..

But honestly that didn’t scare me. 

Because where she saw broken, I saw her. She, who was still optimistic despite the odds constantly begging her to listen to the opposite beliefs. I think that’s why her nickname still suits her. She may not see it,  but she doesn’t have to because I will always remind her.

I will remind her that I will never ask her to live up to unrealistic expectations that I could never reach myself. Instead I ask that she only be herself. Is it so crazy to believe that that is enough to make me happy? I know that she is not perfect, but no one is. I don’t want to be with her for what she does right or wrong, 

but for simply who she is… 

- And I think we forget to love people for who they are, not what they do…

[lounsbury]

#cookiepoetry

[quay-writes-poetry]

And,

I wanted to learn about her life like teachers learn about their subjects. Extensively studying until one day understanding comes without much effort. I wanted to talk to her for hours, memorizing the inflations in her voice until I could feel myself floating alongside the melody. 

Sometimes she would claim that she was sorry for not being enough, and all I would think is that she is so much more than what she realized. I wanted to hold her in my arms until she fell asleep as I slowly tucked her hair behind her ear. 

I think that sometimes, it’s easy to let moments pass without telling people how you feel. But at the end of the day, time is the one thing we never get back. All I know is that I don’t want to waste anymore by being away from you.

- And honestly forever doesn’t seem so scary if you’ll be there..

[lounsbury]

#cookiepoetry

[quay-writes-poetry]

Sext: 

I want to awake to memory of your finger tips tracing my skin when the sun used to peek at both us from over the horizon. Imagine the light slowing moving up the covers as my eyes open slowly to peer at you in the morning. 

I had never intended to watch the starlight illuminating us but I could never run from the poetry your lips made when you whispered please. I know that I am the only one in this bed now, and that you are to many miles away from me to count.. but can we pretend, just this once that you decided to stay? 

Won’t you allow me to believe that I won’t have to wake up alone today, the nights have always been cold.. but can I at least allow my mornings to have some hope that maybe I will awake to find you in my arms?

- Good morning

[lounsbury]

i’ve never been good with change.

the air is crisp now. the trees are beginning to shed their summer leaves. the sun stays away longer than it should. the warmth of the summer sun is a tease to the breeze of autumn. seasons change so quickly, and so do we.

every once and a while something smells like you and it brings me back to that familiar city of grey. i revisit old feelings the same way i reread old books; there is a sort of comfort in the familiarity of words i know the endings to.

lately, i’ve been leaning in and letting it hurt. i’ve been finding myself in the dirt, searching for the last row of daisies before the frost lays them to sleep.

i thought my depression was seasonal but now i’m four seasons deep. i am a graveyard of all the women i once was. every new season i will rise in the morning, embraced by my own skin. i will swallow a thousand different names before i taste the honey sweet cider of the meaning held within my own.

[quay-writes-poetry]

One of my greatest fears is coming to end of my life only to find that I never really did much living to begin with. I have wasted so much time holding beliefs that weren't even my own and honestly somedays it feels like I'm still trying to figure out who I am.

I am desperate for the answers that I know I can't find in anyone else. But they say that self discovery is an endless journey and I just want to make sure I'm still walking in the right direction.

Lately, getting up feels like I lost a bet with life, like I drew the short straw for the 23rd year in a row.

I just crave something that makes waking up an oppurtunity and not just a necessity. I am not suicidal but I have lost the motivation that I had when I was young and niave about life.

Somedays I feel like I wouldn't recognize myself if I looked him in a mirror... And I don't know if thats entirely a bad thing.

I guess, what I'm trying to say is..

I just don't want to look back and realize that I wasted my entire life searching for things that wouldn't fufill me. When I am old and my hair is grey, I want to think back and smile because even though life wasn't perfect; it was what I wanted;

Is it to much to ask that you be sitting there smilling with me?

- And "I could love you," was never meant to mean that I didn't already, but when everything is changing everything feels so unsure doesn't it?

[lounsbury]

#cookiepoetry

[lounsbury]

one of my greatest fears is dying without finding a single soul who knows what to do with the fire behind my eyes. i am not very good at making plans so meet me under the sky and let us feel the warmth of freedom tomorrow will offer.

i am homesick for a place i’m not even confident exsists. a place where my heart feels full, where my body is loved, and where i am truly understood. it takes great courage to see the world in all of its tangled glory and still know there are untouched places waiting to be discovered.

lately, my world has been black and white. my thoughts are grey yet i’m loving in color. i am in the body of a woman but still the little girl who tends to overwater her plants because she doesn’t know when to stop giving. i am not perfect. i am madness. but madness is an alluring paradox where perfection and flaws are long distance lovers. i’ve never had much luck with distance but i never minded the journey.

and they were right when they said time humbles you.. i am a walking condtradiction and life is waiting for me to live it.

- i hope that someday when i am gone, someone, somewhere, picks my soul up off of these pages and thinks, “i would have loved her.”

[quay-writes-poetry]

And the last time I saw you,..

The moonlight kissed your skin through the car window, the faint sound of a song I didn't recognize played in the background, as I listened to the melody of the music that was your voice. Remains of snow scattered the ground reflecting the light of passing cars.

And yet, I was only focused on you.

My heartbeat became a question that I didn’t have the solution to. But somehow, I felt as if I could find all of the answers in your eyes.

The song changed and you turned your head towards me. You tell me something about the stars and I pretend I hear your words rather than focus on the lips that say them. I don’t tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you because I know the word love leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

I don’t confess how I feel because more than anything, I just don’t want to lose you. But, if I could go back, I would do it all differently. Because nothing is worse than the regret I feel when I think about you.

- And if I had known that would be the last time I touched you, I would have at least found the answers I was looking for.

There is a certain glow from the streetlamps we sit under that illuminate the blush in your cheeks. There is a poem inside of me I hold back that leaves a weight so heavy in my chest. I do not regret the way we left but the lingering silence, the vacancy from your lips, the eviction notice in your eyes is mistaken for a love beyond talking.

I wait for the moment you turn to tell me the three words I’ve been so desperate to hear, but words come and go and at the end of the day, it’s more than just a few letters. I do not confess how I feel because more than anything, i just don’t want to lose you.

There are moments I wish I could take back, and words I would have said differently. Perhaps I would have looked at you a little longer, I would have held your hand a little tighter.

- And maybe, just maybe, I would have given you the answers you have long since been looking for, but all you had to do was ask.

Collaboration with @lounsbury (italics)

[lounsbury]

"For once, could you just please take care of yourself?”

My eyes glaze over in a thin layer of glossy tears and I bite my lip holding back the words I wanted to scream so badly. He sat, head in his hands and waited for a response he knew wasn’t coming. He’s been waiting a lot lately. He tells me it hurts him to see me this way but I fight myself to not tell him that it hurts me more. 

Before the words slip from my lips, I stare at the wall knowing if I met his eyes with mine, he’d know I was lying. “I’m doing what I can but these last few months I have left just don’t seem worth it anymore.

He sighs and stands abruptly, “Why are you not fighting to live anymore?” 

In that moment, I had no recollection of ever fighting before. I turn towards the window, the sun now shining across the rim of my glasses. I adjust them before glancing quickly at him. It didn’t scare me to see him upset. It scared me to see his disappointment in my lack of wanting to still feel the sun. I had no craving to live life being so sick. 

“Just let me be tired.”

He walks away and I find myself not having enough energy to follow him. I look to the other side of the room to see my reflection in the mirror. I follow my eyes down the tubes that stray from every direction on my body. The hospital floor is cold, a froze over lake in the midst of January frostbite. There was no recovering from this. I wanted so badly to apologize to everyone I would hurt when I finally gave up but sometimes I think it would hurt them more to see me in pain than gone.

I remember when my youth was full of life and future and romance. There was a time in my life where living didn’t hurt so bad. They never tell you at a young age that chronic illness could steal your life before you even get to begin. There is no instruction on how to take care of a body that is already broken. I don’t have much time left but for the time I have now, I’ll keep waiting for the sun to heal me through thick hospital window panes. 

[lounsbury]

every time that you get undressed, my eyes lock on the single scar that frames your torso. there are answers hidden inside of you but i will never ask in fear of bringing up the past that has long since been thrown into the fire of lost hope.

when you told me what your favorite book was, i bought it to study to see if i could find the missing parts of you that you have long since hidden between the creases of today, tomorrow, and yesterday.

they say everyday is a new day but the hurt is eternal time travel and i’m just a girl with a heart too big to understand when to let go. 

i want to know every inch of you like i know the floor plan of my childhood home. there is still so much i have to learn about you but i think our end is nearing. 

- my heart yearns for the beginning we didn’t get to have and the end that will be trapped inside fire for the rest of eternity. 

[lounsbury]

the thing you don’t know is that you’re the only thing i think about in the morning. i roll over to an empty side of the bed where you should be and coffee has lost its touch since you’ve been gone.

your cup of tea is cold and well, mine is somewhere in the middle between our breaths collided on a summer day when the wind passes your face and makes you shiver; the comfortable kind of warm.

i’m not one to get addicted but when i’m out and i see someone that looks like you, i paint their face on the back of my hand and now, after all this time, i’ve filled scrapbooks full with people who i wish were you.

when people ask me how you’ve been, i still smile. i imagine you’re doing better - maybe you’ve finally learned to like tea hot or maybe she taught you that you can still be favorable in the morning without coffee. maybe you’re all she needs.

-when i close my eyes, i dream of our bodies intertwined like snakes or vines that have no intention of ever letting go.

[lounsbury]

the clock strikes midnight and the only noise is the echo of an old fan blade spinning to its inevitable end. the white noise reminds me of every reason why i had to leave. our love was a never ending, ticking time bomb waiting for an explosion we both knew was never coming. i knew more than anyone that our spark was never coming back. you are the fireworks on the fourth of july and i am the still snow of a december christmas eve night. we were different in so many ways and even in the stillness of a summer night, with the noise of a small fan, i knew you weren’t my perfect puzzle piece. 

i don’t blame you for being you. quite frankly, you were perfect - just not for me. i will take the blame, i will be the bad guy in your story, but i will never apologize for doing the right thing. i will never regret falling in love, but i will not let myself hurt over falling out of love. there is a voice in my head whispering to me that i made a mistake but my heart screams that i am free now. 

[lounsbury]

there is a crack in my heart the size of a paper cut from squeezing myself into a story i was never meant to play a role in. i am no author but there are pages ripped out and the broken spine doesn’t show much promise of a sequel. my character is dripping in dull adjectives and i know i’m not the main character but it’s nice to know i was able to meet you in a world of fairytales and false hope. i wish we had more time, but for now, i’ll keep writing you poems on paper napkins and trying to understand the narration of another broken heart.

[lounsbury]

the raindrops on my window play a game of which one can fall the fastest, but i think i’ve already won. the sky is grey and wearisome, and my heart is pacing. i’m trapped in this game of constant downpour and my soul never stops feeling dreary. i haven’t seen you or the sun in three days, and i can’t tell if it’s the rain or the loneliness or the unknown that scares me more. 

- i’m not afraid of storms but there’s a tornado in my heart and you’re not here to save me. 

[lounsbury]

they say the speed of light is faster than the speed of sound but i can’t ever recall a time that my head didn’t spin millions of miles per second after hearing the sound of your voice. my dreams whisper echoed stardust and speak in the language of midnight moons. the glistening glow of a flickering light outside my window shines into the empty side of the bed where you should be. the hardest thing about waking up is seeing the sun but not feeling its warmth. 

[lounsbury]

i want your monday morning sleep soaked eyes, dream drenched voice, lazy bones saying, "five more minutes please, babe." i want your tuesday afternoon coffee break, glasses off, laughter on, "just hold me for a while, it's been a hard day." i want your wednesday evening fingers through hair, teeth nibbling, neck craning, eye glazing, "this paperwork never ends." i want your thursday night drinks for two, unbind muscles, let looses flats, slacks, "just me and you." i want your fingers unfurl, hand extends, "c,mon babe, let's be wild." i want your weekend. your movie marathon saturday, reading by the fireplace, kissing in the blankets. i want your sunday morning orange juice, pancake white sheets, tender skin, hair like the fourth of juy, "let's not get out of bed today." i want your ordinary and your stress, rest, release. i want your bad day and that terrible night. i want you drunk in my arms forgetting the place but never my name. i want your lazy and your lonely, and your first full of fight. i want you every day, in every way, for the rest of my life.