I want simple things
Like folding laundry with you
Anything would do
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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@voicesandthoughts
I want simple things
Like folding laundry with you
Anything would do
The universe bends into a question mark
silver lines claw at my summer fires
I'm not very good at mathematics
but I've done what's needed to draw up every possible batch of schematics
I know the cost of a fracture
a sudden flight to the west
an accidental dream of the ocean clearing my chest
I know the long road of cash to the east
the price of a bus into the mouth of the beast
I know who would be on the other side of the phone line
If I didn't want the fate that's mine
and I do, honestly
I plan to state it at the alter we talk about
but I alter and rewrite it subconsciously
do I love you irresponsibly?
If love is a fire that keeps us warm
and guilt is the ash after a storm
then god, I am buried head to toe in grey
from trying to chase the rain away
and now I can't see the difference
can we try again? are we doomed to brush the sun and fall like Icarus?
how do I find the honest truth
and how do I soften its deliverance
because I do love you
but I don't love myself these days when I do
maybe I'm the storm, a broken window
I try to believe it
that it's my fault something has shifted
our foundations, once perfect?
poisoned by soley my resentment?
maybe I am the storm, really
I refuse to demand a spark to our fire
from someone content in the dark
after the death of every pleading prior
to beg now, would kill any desire
for the warmth of the love I thought we had
you've gone cold, and I've gone mad
and now.. I have no idea what we have
but one bed, split by an invisible wall
I feel you but neither of us is here at all
I try to talk but our voices fall
and I pray, actually pray, later for at least a call
"I wait every year for summer, and it is usually good, but it is never as good as that summer I am always waiting for."
– Martha Gellhorn, in a letter to Hortense Flexner and Wyncie King, from Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn
Sometimes
Sometimes I take off my ring to cook
the one we picked out at the mall
the one you "proposed" in the most un romantic unlike proposal way of all
the hollow space turns my eyes to the door
the one I'll never walk away through again
but the question asks itself until meaning grows thin
and the guilt sits in my throat all day
Sometimes I miss the chase
you finally caught up, and I stopped running
it felt unfair, so I settled into who we're becoming
but can I miss us before this roommate routine?
when you'd lay out old blankets on new clovers
decorate my windowsill and tables with orchids
sometimes your bird misses the skies
sometimes I miss when we used to fly
and Sometimes I wish I could scream what's too heavy for my tongue to state
too fickle for my heart to stand in or deflate
a title's weight I never planned in (mother)
I admit this only to myself and lion's sickle
that I never built a room for this aspect
and I fear it's one I'll neglect.. standing in
the weight of something I never wanted
sits uncomfortably large in the throat of all I've ever wanted
Sometimes I call just to hear your voice
after sliding diamonds back
I love you and it's all I'm sure of
don't ask me any other questions
so I can hold onto the one thing I cannot lose
so I can anchor in you
amazing day to have disorganized attachment style
I love this song so much
I watch your head hang under the weight of the weather in my head
eyes meeting mine
I watch your breathing quiet and volume grow
we unwrite things as they're said
and you try to guess why I'm on the floor this time
why you can't win this war
while I guess why neither of us have reached the door
love is not a doctor and yours is not a ghost
I was running from coast to coast
to and from what life sentences I'm diagnosed
when you caught my tendency to devote
into rough, but loving, hands
to unravel my plans
and love, dragged my begging knees
right into the gravel
begging please
that we should know
and maybe never
should this love leave
hate when im reading and theres a word i dont know so i search it in the dictionary and its like: beuperer. noun. a person who beupers. i'll fucking kill you
The slippery slope is looking very sexy right now… idk like… 🫦self-destruction🫦
vodka burns on the way down
like fire, igniting tongue and throat
I brush my hair out and laugh with you
I can't believe I used to love the smoke in my lungs
drunk off kerosene and addicted to the match
pretending to be clueless until I'm in the ashes
but that's not what I'm doing now, promise
I laugh to fill the space between my doubts and yours
I hate the taste, I hate the feeling
I'm just holding the bottle, it's not appealing
I'm just testing the weight
seeing how slippery the slope really is
between switching ropes
I promise I'm stable
and I feel no relief in finally having a reason
to walk away from the table
I ordered groceries and they sat out for 4 hours bc I fell asleep fml
I cannot afford that but half of it is cold shit
I don't know how to write about love
it's not within the capability of this leaden body
not unless it's Interlaced into melancholy
because I was born a temple to grief and decay
into a broken home, a sickness in the floorboards
but you still decided to stay
to tear down scoreboards on crumbling walls
and repaint them, art hung high and laughter splattered in every room
stomach, cupboard, and heart full
you turned this place into one I can believe I belong
an empty table to a banquet
still, I don't know how to write about love
aching is the first language I was given
and so I leave your best self, our best moments, almost entirely unwritten
tucked away from my clumsy lines that only know the blue ink of a bruise
I don't have the right words to tell of you
although I was raised on scripture
I can recite the words of selfish gods
and sing beautiful hymns I used to believe
name the stars they supposedly designed
but I cannot perceive
a language, a set of words for this light of mine
by which I feel revived
in the glint in your eyes
or peeking through makeshift quilt curtains
leading kitchen sermons and diversions
I cannot perceive a word for a love I cannot believe is meant for me
I stand tongue tied, pen stuck between teeth, In the temple of what you are to me
so much of us I consistently leave unwritten
afraid to further blight the love & grace I've been given
but trust I cannot wait for the day I attempt to capture it
I'll find the words before "I do"
writing my wedding vows to you
recovered vs recovering
I'm healed
I have healed greatly
but not in the way that you talk about me
as if I've arrived at a great new destination
a new home, bags unpacked, lights off
past worrying about the costs
but after I kicked off my shoes, I've spent hours staring at the ceiling
and tracing fragments of meaning
to let it go I had to gain a whole lot
filling in the capacious gaps left by the rot
and knowing because I don't slip up on a regular basis
and what I can't fill is so small
you don't see me
*recovering*
you see a fully *recovered* body
when I walk and I talk
my physical and mental growth
the way I dance past the mirrors on our doors
but not how much I secretly hate the ways I've grown
the skin and time that had to unfold
I hate that my shoulders are wide enough to carry the girl that I was
I hate the lines she drew and the expenditure of a new bust size
I hate throwing out what used to be mine
I hate the days I feel like a machine, mindlessly following old, or new, routine
I hate making up excuses, the jeans went through the dryer five too many times
I ate so much yesterday that today's choice is mine
and I hate how visible it all is, in the passage of time
I hate that I constantly look all right
because I am
but I am... also toeing the line
I let the sun burn my skin when I sat in the grass
maybe my mind will find flowers to bloom
a better garden to tend to
alongside my love for you
the air will be sticky soon
like memories to skin
it'll fuck with my hair
and for all of the above, I'm utterly unprepared
I will pull a lie into a smile
because it's unfair, to you, not to be mesmerized
and I am, even by your fingers grazing mine
I love more than anything to be with you, In every day
distracted from years old blue waves
and skin set ablaze
I will stay in the grass beside you, always
praying and paying for it to be easy, one day
It comes up like bile in my throat
piling up from stomach to floating eyes
whispering "you are everything you despise"
I blink until I can focus again, or put it to pen
devotion changed but the blood in my veins remained the same
you plan to break my fall
but it's all that I am
my edges should've been softened down by now
by the warmth of laughter and by your love
by the day that was everything I asked
and the sunlight I prayed to bask in
I should be the softness you have wrapped me in
the problem being that I'm partly convinced
it's something I was never meant to last in
it's hard enough to accept I'm meant an existence
how can I be given a slice of heaven and still defile it
a need, at times an eagerness, climbs up like bile
unpalatable and yet my favorite way to break a fall
and even in perfect runs, ineradicable
the moon pulls at my heart strings
or maybe my identity, maybe pride
whatever it is, I'm enticed
fool me once, I fall in love
fool me twice, and never again
I'm convinced I deserve it some days
what I crave
but I listen with stillness
watching the washing machine rinse cycle
It would be so thrillingly cold to jump in
from bridal to disciple
19 was a trial run, a recital
how thrilling it would be to throw out love
for spiralled veins and final planes
I would never go that far
but god please why can't I bear just one more scar
and god fucking damnit why do I still need this release
why can't I just blow smoke into a cigar, or guitar
or jump from bar to bar
It's always the same curse in my stars
it's always a violent break to my fall
you're my first real love
you're laced into my being
a feeling like the perfect warmth of late spring
but I'm just as terrified as excited to call off the changing of seasons
for it to be solidified, that it's all I can ever be
not that I need to be free of it, of you
but what if we look back one day and hate the flowers we grew
I'm terrified that we need each other more than we know each other
that our sleep talks are more honest than up sober or drunk
maybe it's the past talking, maybe it's the medicine
I know I'm not settling
but what if my sunshine turns into sin
what if I live the play I watched my mothers act in over and over again
your heart pulled mine thousands of miles up a mountain
downwards, I would never climb
but my lungs are still trying to align with the air up here
your life pushed mine five years ahead
and I would never hit rewind
but I fear the passing of time
what if we just froze it?
are you sure we can't avoid it?
the chance of a day I could see anything but love in your gorgeous brown eyes?
I know but so did she and her and him and her.. before.......
so how do you REALLY know?
fuck it we must persist