#jenwritesjulysun

[murmurousfingertips]

You were an exhausting hello. Hard to reach, impossible to untangle. I was never tall enough to climb inside your skin. I never found the comfort in mine. I say your name every night before falling asleep in case you hear me. Hello. I miss you. Do you hear my bones rattle against my fire? I found that water only makes hearts greedy.Hello. I miss you. I discovered your breathe behind my ear, my nerves came undone. I was left in shadow. Hello. Have I see you before? You look like July sky drowning in red light. Hello, you're growing flowers from my bones. Would you mind showing me your magic dust so I know how to drown in sunlight? I've never seen stars dance around the moon in December, could you take me there one day? Hello? I'm tired of the mice playing in my fields. I cant shake off the dizzy. I have no feet to stand steady on. I've forgotten the way back home. I dont know if I ever had one. Hello. I miss you. Your fingers are full of smiles between car wrecks, you have glass in your pockets, you would never let me hide behind the dirt under your toes. I was never allowed to sink into my empty stomach knots or cry pity and defeat. Hello. I was safe in 6am awakenings, our eyes breaking free from sleepdust in car rides between pinetrees with a yellow spring beside me to ease our January whispers. Hello. I am sorry I have forgotten to speak softly, my spine is lodged in my throat causing my fingers to abandon you. Hello do you forgive me? I was never happy being. I could never settle into my name or accept this funny feeling that I'll never accept this funny feeling. I've got bees coming out of my ears. They tell me to calm my outrage. Hello. You've been the only one unafraid to hold me, to dream with me in this haze I've left on my body. Forgiveness is not something that comes natural to us. We bleed until we we die, spending our existence trying to find the way to making every thing ache less, until our bodies tremble, and our knees are black. You held me in every moment I gave up on myself, arms a cradle I could fall asleep in. Do you remember me? Hello. I am still HERE. Not perfect, not always right, but I have seeds sitting in my skeleton I could grow if you showed me how. I will never always love myself but I will climb the mountain top with you until the sun goes to sleep. Until I stop being afraid of saying your name. I have sand lodged between my teeth from the night we kidnapped the moon. I ripped that summer from my chest, I dont know to forgive myself for my undoings, but I know the sea with swallow me in and spit me back out until I get it right. Until I stop being afraid of not knowing what's to come. I have been given a whole life to live, I've spent every second trying to dig up my roots instead of making room for them. I have spent nights howling out for you when I should have been spinning outside in rain storms because I was alive enough to feel something. Hello. Forgive me. I am trying my very best to catch lightning bugs with my tongue so I can breathe the fire I need to ignite my way back home. You are an exhausting hello. I am trying oh so very hard to leave you in the sunlight. I am tired of standing under shadows. I am on my way back home.

Palemote

[murmurousfingertips]

Dying lightening bugs lived in my skin the night you discovered me. I was dressed in streetlight and small town quiet, I drank too much excitement and it all fell into your fingertips. That’s the place where I learned about warmth, and the aftermath of tingling ache. Its where I learned how to say my name out loud. It sounds like magic when you say it. It was lovely being lovely to someone who saw my heart as the sun, Who was afraid that touching me would ruin the soil that mankind bled in. Who saw only good in all of me that was unkind and decrepit.  We could not move mountains, or speak out to the cedar water I baptized myself in. We could not change the things that hurt, and we could not keep all that was good. Our bodies grew crooked, you forgot how to say my name. The skin melted off my bones so I could feel a little more alive. I turned away from sun and into grey quiet wind beneath the tree where you taught me to exist differently. I fell off mountain cliffs to get my heart beating one more time, to scrape my knees, to bleed, to do anything to stain the earth. I lost my way in the moon. Howling at the sea. I cannot hear myself anymore. I have shed the dead off my spine to lighten the regret that kisses my neck, I cannot loosen your name from my tongue. It’s collapsed between skipped summers and beds of sand, black shrouds have anchored my feet there. I am more afraid that I am still alive then I ever was when I put the razor to my skin. I don’t need help picking myself up when my fingers grow tired, I just need someone who will wait for me while I catch up. I may never catch up, but the sun will shadow my way and the bugs will dance in summer romance and I will find smiles hidden in clouds, like I found happiness in your wrinkles. I am sorry I fall off mountains instead of move them. It’s all I can do. I’m all I can be

[murmurousfingertips]

You held handfuls of glitter to the moon and expected her to make them shine, as if they were stars you could keep in your pockets for later.

[murmurousfingertips]

I plucked flowers from your mouth with my lips the night we slept in sand. I curled my body between your soft spots, my fingers devoured your skin. We spoke with mingled breath. I dont think I ever left. I think we stole the moon that night. I think for too long I tried hiding in it’s shadow so you wouldn’t see me come undone. I think I died in August and rose again in ash - I cannot get ocean water off my tongue. I think you were filling the silence so my head would stop aching. If I could, I would forget your name in avalanche dreams, but I have forgotten how to close my eyes. I’ve nothing left but blood in my hands where my heart had been, I think the birds took it away. I think the wind pushed me to rivers and summer grass, I wasn’t breathing around you. I learned how to swim under cedar water, I learned how to walk in sunlight. I learned the sun is just as strong in December as it is in July, you just dont feel it all the time. I am just as strong crying on my bathroom floor when I forget how to walk outside. I learned that once in a while I am capable of being so in love with myself. I skipped rocks and slept under trees, I melted into the ground. I learned I can exist without you. I dont want to. I have stretched myself carelessly thin looking for your ghost. I forgot where I put you last.

[murmurousfingertips]

I hear the snow buzzing behind me in August sun. I know that doesn't make sense but your name has my tongue in a knot and I can't think when I have bees plucking flowers from my brain. Lately, I feel like I miss myself and how terrible that feeling is. To miss someone you don't really know, to miss someone who doesn't love you. Who can't feel the electricity in their finger tips when they've collided with your jaw. How dramatic. I've been hung upside down so the crows can pick up my loose change. They're building a nest out of my pocket dust and sleepy eyes; I need a home. You've pushed me from moonlight. I drown every time I use my legs. I feel my skin itch when I think of metal. I have been abandoned by all things warm and concrete. I exist in dream particles and uncertainty. There is no beginning or end, I have no sense or understanding, I am slipping behind the wind to avoid hands embracing summer grass. I am lost among sidewalk cracks and dirty shoes. I am rolling in pollen and my face is wet. I am alone in time. I am not afraid of not belonging. I am afraid of always feeling afraid. I need bones that will never break. I need a voice that might shake the mountains but will never stop working. I am almighty in my brilliance....

incomplete

[murmurousfingertips]

I miss you.

I miss you.

I think i made you up inside my head.

[murmurousfingertips]

I lost myself, again, in your postcard letters, syllables disappearing off pages I cannot feel. If you say my name, I have to tell you, I'll collapse into the sun. I have forgotten what breathing feels like. Or how not to ache for shadow and rain, an escape from light that folds itself into all of my places you have touched. If you say my name, I will combust into stardust and lightning bugs, filling summer air with song and fire for children to dance around. I will fill your lungs with ash, I am crumbling where I stand. It is too often I bleed through my skin only to find nothing but soft porcelain and I will, I will feel this again. I am hungry for your hands on my face, to experience generosity, for your electricity to shake me into sand and ocean storms, I've drowned in a current I couldn't escape from more often than not. If you say my name, I will follow you off Cliffsides and turn into puddles on the ground, I will see you in absolutely nothing. You were the sun I collapsed in, I looked for too long.

Cauda Luna

[murmurousfingertips]

We drowned in red light and black summer sky, our exhales caught up in one another until the stars grew weary. We were electric. Short lived. And yet you grew flowers in my bones and got me drunk off silence. It was the dream of all dreams, a night of July haze and uncertainty. I wouldnt trade it for promises you couldn't keep, or syllables that carried the heaviness of you.

i wish i had more time with you