#angelprose

[lettersofanangel]

Leave me in the misery of the winter rain, I never minded the cold. There was a point in time when I willingly walked a snowstorm and trembled avalanches. Now I shiver at the sound of a snowflake grazing the ground. I remember you that night- sweatpants and tired smile- lost in a sea of mascaraed flutters and lipglossed pouts. Your eyes pierced through my layered heart from across the room. Bah. You’re the black ice I spun out of control on. You’re the sleet that bruised my lip. The lights are bright and shiny, the people are dull and bored. I only wish I had the patience. You’ll sit by the fire but refused to be burned.

And I’ll sleep with one eye open because you’re threatening to break into this hollow chest and make it home

[lettersofanangel]

You walk as if you have a wave trailing behind you, stumbling into my life and rocking the very ground beneath us. The problem is that you and your tsunami walk without noticing street signs or light changes. Well, my windows are shattered and my roses drowned.               You walk as if the boogeyman is on a mission, constantly in a game of cat and mouse with you. You could give Tom and Jerry a run for their money. The problem is that you walk so fast and so hard that even the pavement is screaming in pain. Well, my doors no longer close properly because the frame is offset.               You walk as if the next place you arrive at will have all the solutions in the world. The problem is that you walk without noticing that your feet have worn through the shoes that your mother saved for months to buy for you and your legs ache constantly but you can't stop-- at least that's what you lament to the winds that try to catch up with you, that try to match your pace. Well, with that speed, I at least hope you've seen the better parts of  the world. You were never one for pictures, but I hope you'd paint me one anyways.                You walk the city and the alleys and leave your mark in all these places and take all these lessons and stories into your journey. And you'll talk about how you never forget a single destination. The problem is that no place has ever forgotten you either, but I don't think you know that. Well, I suppose it's like how natural disasters never think about their consequences.                I walk wondering sometimes if you'll ever return to this small town to look at the damage you left behind. They weren't irreparable; buildings that have fallen have become skyscrapers. My door frame has reset and my garden is blooming again.  The problem is that you'll probably never think about how you and your tsunami and your boogyman and your worn out shoes walked into my ribcage without permission and took what didn't belong to you.   Well, I also wonder how in the hell I ever let you.

hello 911? I’d like to report a break-in and a robbery

[lettersofanangel]

They say distance makes the heart fonder. And my goodness, am I fond of you, am I in love with you. I don’t know how to use my words, so I make fun at your sloppy stutters so you wouldn’t see mine- but I know you do. Play me like a memory, like all those movies we’ve seen. Sing me to sleep, and run your fingers through my dreams. Your eyes are all the cliches involving waves in oceans and the endlessness of the universe. You’re drowning me and choking me and somehow, I want more. Breathe into me, find every crevice of my chest, as you already do, as you already have. Show me what love is, because I don’t think I know. But you are what I’ve read about in stories and every line in stardust poetry. I’ve been wishing I could write your name on everything broken part of me. And I’ve been wishing you would hold me and my fragile hands. I miss you in the mornings when daylight’s barely peaking through my curtains. I miss you in that first sip of coffee in the morning. I miss your arms when I cozy up in my scarf to keep warm. I miss you at the end of my day when you’re still in the middle of yours. I miss your smile and your sweaty hands. I miss that awkward moment when you don’t know how to start kissing me. I miss you at some time, at random times, all the time. Or perhaps, I’m missing myself—the piece of me that you took with you. I hope you’re taking good care of it. sometimes I’m scared of the word- sometimes love is just another word for manipulation. Sometimes I’m scared of you. Falling for you means losing myself. I don’t want to lose me. But that’s oh so lonely. And I’m sick of being lonely. I’m sick of holding back.

excerpt from my diary