#noeliagraham

[moonlightbynoon]

Our life together was a descent into madness

Chaotic, unbridled sadness-

Moments cascading into others

Your sillouhette fading into the distance

But I would do it again

Just to have you smile at me once more

[moonlightbynoon]

Our memories are outlined across a board. It is October, and I am making crafts. I take each piece of our life together and cut holes in the center of each one. And as I snip, the pieces fall, piece by piece, surrounding me. Some pieces are too small to pick up and they will stay there, unseen. To be found later. This is how I view us. As I find remnants of you, of us, I stop. It’s as if at first in a whirlwind, the memory is the sudden calm after. Nostalgia hits me in wavelengths. Our wavelengths currently cut. But your voice echoes so clearly, even if I can no longer recall specific expressions in your face. But I remember what you use to do, and in what order. So for now without you, I find myself at a loss for words- 

Until we met again. 

[moonlightbynoon]

My boyfriend sent me this song earlier but it’s now, 6 hours later, listening to it that I wish he was here holding me. But he’s working in India and I’m in Miami. Circumstantial sadness sets. 

[moonlightbynoon]

7 more weeks till I fly to Sweden and get to hold my boyfriend//waiting is a special kind of hell

[moonlightbynoon]

I think about everything I’d like to say to you

and instead I pick up the words 

swallowing them

letter by letter 

a mouthful of forgotten forevers 

a heart full of forget-me-nots 

[moonlightbynoon]

My aesthetic is a sad, silent, black and white, foreign film version of myself who stares at balloons floating in the wind and romanizes my crippling loneliness and confusion at existence

[moonlightbynoon]

Pull me closer Let me make a home on your skin Climb between the lines And melt Dripping Don’t stop 

please

Tap the glass Watch it shatter A million times over Like sand through unsteady hands Once you let go I’m gone

[moonlightbynoon]

The thing about memories is that they never seem to happen exactly how I recall them. Sometimes I think about the things I didn’t catch. Like the look on your face as you turned away that I never saw because I was too busy staring at an empty cell phone screen. Checking the time. Biting my nails. Staring into the distance, lost in thought. I miss people less. More and more I have begun to miss that momentary imprint they left in my mind. A nostalgic middle ground. But this practice is devoid of substance. I stay sad. I am counting. There is a breath of space between what is and what will never be, and I am standing at the edge of this cliff searching for answers that will never come to me. This is all in my head. This cliff is just a pretty metaphor for things in my brain I can never explain. It’s like yelling into a cave. The echoes resonating deep in between the sharp white bones of your insides. The voice getting smaller and sadder. These are just shadows. Tonight I will lay in bed and try to listen to the rhythm that my patterns have made.