THE GUILT KILLS US.

[romantiqueindies]

@bitchindies

brittany, albeit still jetlagged, was feeling absolutely giddy with excitement. she’d arrived in lima at just six o’clock that morning, crawled into her old childhood bed for a hearty four hours, and then gotten up for the day. she couldn’t sleep knowing that, after years of being apart, she was again inhabiting the same space as santana. she had to see her old best friend — thoughts of her had permeated her mind for hours. thinking about how excited the other women would be made her stomach flip and twist into knots. her naivety forbid her from even considering that santana wouldn’t feel the same excitement. she had dropped by her parents house just to find out that she was living and taking care of her abuela — the news had made brittany’s heart swell. that was the santana she knew; so thoughtful and caring, so sweet. after another short drive and thirty minutes of pruning herself in her drivers side door, brittany was there  — beaming on her best friends doorstep. she gave the doorbell a ring and felt her heart soar, she was basically bouncing. every second of waiting felt like years, and then the door open: an unmistakable sight of dark hair was before her, and brittany almost tackled her with a fierce hug. “oh my god, oh my god,” she squealed, “santana, oh my god, i can’t believe i’m touching you right now! you still smell so nice! oh my god.” 

[romantiqueindies]

@bitchindies

young bones felt ancient after what felt like miles of hiking through the dense forest. her only tool to tell time had been by how many nights she’d sleep curled up at the roots of large trees since her escape. the threat of a wild animal making a meal out of her hardly phased her in comparison to what she’d left behind, or even worse, what she was bringing along with her back into the real world. 

faintly, the sound of a waterfall sang to her, and kira found herself running to the source of the noise. she had no idea where the sudden burst of energy came from, but it was too much for her weak frame; she collapsed just at the edge of the water, rushing in to hungrily scoop up water with her hands drink. she drank until she felt sick with it. then, she jumped up again, slightly renewed, and began to rip off her clothes and wade into the cool lake so she could stand under the rushing waterfall. the mixture of blood, mud, and god knows what else that was caked onto her skin and hair began to fall off into the water around her. this was the real freedom she’d been craving since she’d fled. 

[ofstarsdust]

her and i are the same

woven together by the strings of your adoration

you wouldn’t know the difference in the dark

you cannot tell where i begin and she ends

except —

i end where you begin

and she begins from our ending

[ofstarsdust]

I was not simply conceived

on a bridal bed

I was not bred from love and entanglement

No — I came into creation

one night, in a smoke filled, technicolor room

when I walked in and we locked eyes

before then I was merely comatose

with each interaction I grew older

and with age came wisdom —

despite the fact that you are the one

that brought me into this world

you are no god

[ofstarsdust]

i sleep better at night settled between our memories 

than i ever did in your bed; 

but your ghost is here to stay,

reclusively crouching in my head.

maybe i shouldn’t keep him.

maybe i should invoke some ancient incantation

and purge you of me  —

but i won’t. 

[ofstarsdust]

i live to dance in the melody of your voice

and to be held by such quick eyes

(they make me think of brighter skies)

[ofstarsdust]

you were a black hole of a microcosm —

from you i could take nothing

but all of me gave into you.

my future shuddered and fled my body

the moment our eyes met

and suddenly you were swallowing me

but I was none the wiser to your tricks.

[ofstarsdust]

thousands upon thousands versions of me exist 

in this nebulous 

the me that should have stayed home that night  —

the me that peers back at me from my reflection, 

they all stem from the same tree. 

they shake and shiver in the cold winds of fate; 

never to come together, never to embrace, 

but only to continue replicating 

like a morbid beast of ‘what if’s’ and ‘should have beens.’

[ofstarsdust]

he ask me, one night  — are they about me? 

are all these words that spill from you in conjunction with us? 

and i laugh because, of course they aren’t  —

romance couldn’t exist in the real world 

if it did you would surely kill it 

these words are a dream and maybe at one time i’ll imagine 

that you’re a part of it 

but no  — i do not write about you, or us 

only dreams 

[ofstarsdust]

i think i’m— no, we won’t go there

tell your mind to shove it back

swallow these thoughts like your pride

and never let yourself feel too freely

feelings are dangerous.

you’ve been here before, little red —

in the wet abyss of a wolfs mouth.

you can either let him chew you up and spit you out,

and smile all the while

or you can run away: but please,

just remember that you can never reach their hearts from their stomachs.

[ofstarsdust]

here’s to another sleepless night

spent alone in a bed too small to feel

just this empty

where my thoughts run rampantly

twisting over you, them, everyone —

everyone I’ve disappointed and failed

to keep in contact with,

everyone I still devote my love to

even though they’ve since forgotten me

[romantiqueindies]

ofstarsdust:

he’s in the garden, his leg on the bench and his elbow on his knee

i say: baby, look at me

but he can’t hear over his own ephinany;

wondering if between my legs is his prophecy —

who am i, if not Eurydice?

[ofstarsdust]

here’s to the birth of your doomsday cult —

here’s to hoping that i die tonight and knowing i won’t. 

[ofstarsdust]

there’s no demons in my head, 

nor are they in my bed; 

rather, just a boy full of dread

dreaming of being dead, instead

[romantiqueindies]

i am being haunted by my own ghost. she takes up my stride everywhere i go, only she's so pure and naive— her head filled with silly thoughts of marrying her high school sweetheart and settling down all before she's hit twenty five. she rushes home with a smile on her face. she's in the study rooms with him, patiently pretending to study until he is ready to take her to bed. she's in the laundry room, giggling as she folds their laundry together into one basket as neatly as his mother would. relics of her exist in the real world, i know — old notes she left herself: "make sure to let him know you appreciate him," they say to some effect. doodles of her name with his last name occupy corners in notebooks and unimportant papers. the loving feeling she once had haunts me. it dwells deep within my heart and reminds me ever so often of what once was. but, at the end of the day, i always watch my ghost as she leaves his room for the last time, moving as slowly as a sombulist, crying as silently as possible as she flees the scene of her own murder. every version of me that took that same path walks with her, surrounding her, urging her to stop crying. she is the only version of me that walked out that door and, upon hearing it close behind her, knew it would be the last time.

[romantiqueindies]

so delicately we fold upon one another— an entanglement of limbs with a divine structure. every sweet fragment of thought that we impress upon the other strengthens the knot our twisted bodies have formed. i think your pale skin is cut from marble. you say my body reminds you of impish woodland sprites that foolish men of myths chase after but can never touch. together we're just a fable. asinine mortals rushing into a feeling; call it love if you want, but will hear none of your remarks above the sound of our own beating hearts. most people beg to know the ending of their stories, but i only wish to know the climax of ours. is it this moment of dizzying ecstasy? will we reach greater heights? how far can i push my affection for you up a hill before it rolls back down again?

[romantiqueindies]

i think the lights at the party made you appear much more beautiful to me — like a walking pierce of art, you drifted from person to person and begged them to take you in; to gander at your beauty before moving on toward the next group to . it was the soft contrast of blues that danced all over your skin that made it hard to look away. you took in all the light in the room and projected it back upon the world like a prism. no matter where you were physically, you were at the center of everyone's attention. no war general has ever commanded a room so swiftly as you do. 

then you landed on me, and i could not look away even as you blinded me.  hazel eyes beseeched me to stay. to talk. to “stop being so awkward,” and appreciate the party. i entertained you. my fragile existence proved itself to you to be unique, endearing. it was something of a train wreck and you could not look away. i think you knew from the beginning that you would ruin me and that satisfied you. you, being the false god that you are, require followers. you need someone to look at you as if you are the center of the universe and i was too far naive to see that. instead, i snapped into the role you so desperately needed me to play.

i would have loved you, given the chance. perhaps you recognized my love was pure of heart — that i was absolutely nothing like anyone you had met before. perhaps you couldn’t bring your wicked, filthy hands to touch someone as soft as me. you refused to rip my heart out, knowing it beat for you so fervently. 

and if that’s the truth i thank you.