#heartspew

[rejoiceandregret]

I carry your ghost like a kite on a string. I hope you don’t mind, but my heart won’t beat without it.

If I was better I'd let you go; I'd say goodbye; let you float off into nothing. But just the thought of it, and I fall apart.

I feel like there’s lead inside me. And it's strange, Because I feel so fucking hollow.

[machinesindecay]

I saw you alone, without them without who we've been. Your skin glowed like sunlight and drew me in. Desperate to touch, desperate to burn, to thaw this frozen heart-turned-sword, much needed to battle through thickets of grief and woe. I saw you alone, without them, without who we've been, and in a breath fell in love all over again.

[rejoiceandregret]

Sneak

Like a gate left open, Swaying in the breeze of dusk, purple sky and silhouettes of trees— you were the end of everything that was alive in me.

[rejoiceandregret]

The pain doesn’t move me like it used to; The ideas ache more than the cuts do.

The yearning stings deeper than my flesh ever will; I see my blood running before I even feel it spill,

Tributaries down my arms like lowland floods, A thrilling cavalry turning dry dirt to mud.

But the truth is, there is nothing left to save, Because grief left my vibrance in a shallow grave.

[rejoiceandregret]

I wish to dance with gentle things, but so often they are out of reach; I graze them with the tip of my finger— so euphoric I feel for the moment— reaching through the metal bars in the prison of my mind; it’s like crawling out of my skin, like feeling free.

[rejoiceandregret]

Is this redemption or renaissance? Are my demons dead or merely dreaming? Am I the spirit or the skeleton? Am I the flower or the plastic likeness?

So many questions, because To feel good inside a cage Seems as if I've sprouted wings, I can fly, Only to find a wasteland at my feet; To bask in the sunlight of a prison window; To be amnesiac in the apocalypse. Such cruel, brief pleasures in a nightmare.

[rejoiceandregret]

11/2/22

I've seen the sun many times since you died, but that was the last day I ever felt it. Now the warmth on my skin doesn't make it into my soul; now I feel like a wilted wallflower to my own memories: paralyzed but moving forward—not by choice, but because this conveyor belt of time drags me forward like cattle to slaughter.

Whether or not something lies beyond what my tired eyes can know, it's the moments I took for granted, as plentiful and worthless as teardrops in the sea, that are now worth more to me than anything else, yet as impossible to find as that single drop of water, dancing somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, waiting for me.