Half Of Me Is Forest, Half Of Me Is Wind.

~ a place to store my heart ~

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

for once words fail me

jail me in my ineptitude of saying what i really mean

really feel

blue crushed velvet like ocean waves haunts my dreams

turns the tide

onto me.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

Bleeding Lights

the lights are bleeding from the city underneath

curtains rise and fall with its quiet breathing

is the world the same it always was?

my judgement’s clouded like the night time sky

i crave

closeness

yet i keep building fences

burning

bridges

under false pretenses

catch my

thoughts and

aborted glances

i crave

closeness

with your eyes aglow it’s hard to see the dark

the road you lead me down is winding through the grass

an icy wind sinks its claws into my skin

or is it my anxiety, i can never tell

i crave

closeness

yet i keep building fences

burning

bridges

under false pretenses

catch my

thoughts and

aborted glances

i crave

closeness.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

i still would love to

slow dance with you.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

Do you even know the love you write about?

(because i don’t, what the fuck do i know about the love i write about and read about and sing about and scream about silently into the cold winter air when i know for sure no one can hear me and it doesn’t help that i know i scream about something that most probably doesn’t even exist. how the fuck would i know about something i keep fighting for and reaching for and hoping for and searching for with a map that doesn’t show shit and a compass that keeps spinning like a wheel on a kid’s bike and my head’s spinning too and it’s summer again and i’m not on the road and not in love and the sky is grey and cloudy and not pink and gold at all.)

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

The way your fist connects

With my face is satisfying.

I heard something snap, was it my jaw or was it my heartstrings, I can’t know for sure

But whatever it is you’re doing right now, go on, continue,

You must be doing something right judging by the applause

And the roar of the crowd

Come on come back they’re calling you

The curtain’s drawn but we’ll crawl underneath

Like that one time when we tried to stifle our laughter and let nobody see us ‘cause no one sees you like I do, baby

Come up come on

The audience wants to see our faces covered in blood.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

waste of space

waste of space

waste of

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

In broad daylight, it’s easier to convince myself that I am not completely and absolutely alone in this life.

The problem arises when the Sun sets over the horizon on the West and the Moon peeks over the horizon on the other side. While the darknes of the night is in many ways kinder and softer than the harsh light of day, it also makes it harder for me to keep up the pretense, forcing me to drop the act and confess (even if only to myself) to the inevitable fact that I, in fact, am completely alone in this world. The difficulty of facing such truth fluctuates and trembles like hot air over a highway in midsummer’s heat. Sometimes it’s barely a whisper at the backend of my mind, a presence that is there but very faint. Other times, it hits me in the gut like a freight train, looms over me like a big, ghastly cteature, and refuses to leave.

It lets me know in every hearbeat, every inhale, every exhale; you’re alone, no one truly understands you and no one ever will.

As simple as it sounds, the full realisation of all the implications is crushing.

I watch with a quiet, detached sort of happiness as my friends and family find people who seemingly complete them, make their lives worth waking up for every day. I can’t help but wonder what it’s like; to find your true home with another person. One soul, one heartbeat, second skin.

And while my loved ones are spending time with their loved ones, I’m sitting on the porch, surrounded by the night, by solitude, by the omnipresent fatality of being left behind.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

I’ll hold you close against my chest, the Autumn brown of your hair, the gentle lines of your graceful fingers dancing over black and white, ghosting over my existence in a fated waltz.

Princess warrior,

At war with yourself.

The ample curve of your lips stained crimson, upon which ships are breaking, sailors keeling over, Save the sails, let the anchor sink! Sprayed in the face by the sea,

Cold, cruel and darling.

These are not flowers, my dear, their days have been numbered since the dawn of time and see? They’re songbirds. And that’s twilight softly creeping in over the hill. All that’s left is fractured reflection in a frozen windowpane, not yet touched by the watchful eye of the Sun.

Words have always had the tendency to fail me when I needed them the most, in the face of you

they dry up in my throat and refuse to spill over my teeth. Back to the wall, eyes on the floor,

I, too, was at war

With myself.

Now it seems that you’re at war with me, cold war II and even in my coat, I am freezing.

No more flowers grow

where winter sunsets go.

Don’t wake the dead.

They won’t pay you back with life.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

And just like that,

I was done.

So much time spent

Bent over how horrible of a person I was

That it didn’t even occur to me that maybe

I wasn’t.

So just like that, I was done.

Closed the window and opened the door,

Just like always when one thing ends

And there is no beginning in sight

Just yet.

It’s okay.

I am not looking for one.

The road beckons and I intend to follow.

And just like that,

it’s done.

I am rediscovering my own worth.

(And even though I’m done,

I’m not saying I will never cry at night again

Because who knows

What the weather brings.

Even so,

Just like that,

I am done. )

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

We must consume new art.

We must dance through the world that expects us to stand still.

Yell inside a library, jump off a cliff, laugh at a funeral and cry from anguish at a wedding. 

Inhale and bloom, break through rain clouds and burst into flames.

Longing cut into ribbons raining down from the sky.

Yearn, my love, yearn and scream and twirl and sing, for what are we? All time is borrowed so use yours well, just like nature intended but no one bothered to let us know.

I am unable to love and I am complete in my longing.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

Silver light of dawn

A cold nip in the air

The twinkle of the stars

A long stretch of the night

The world outside awaits

Though not with open arms

My fingers still recall

The softness of your skin

The gentle whisper of your voice

You know I used to cherish

the air that you breathed

As the day started to break

Deep, slow indigo

bleeding slowly into

soft, warm black

and back again

I shall never taste the Autumn sky again

I shall never see the ocean burn

Blood is thicker

Blood is thicker

and so sweet

A crown of leaves upon my head

Invisible.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

Uprostřed noci

S hlavou doširoka otevřenou

Nejsem si jistá, zda se mi do ní

Temnota vlévá zvenčí,

Nebo je to naopak.

Chybíš mi jako ostrý vítr,

tlukot srdce,

jarní rozbřesk.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

There is a tiny piece of you in everything that I write

Sometimes obvious

Other times hidden in plain sight.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

Hi, how are you?

I’m sad.

I feel like my soul doesn’t belong in my body.

I’m sorry

I know you don’t care.

Or you do.

I don’t know which is worse.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

Bledá krvácí,

Ztrácí pojem o čase.

Paži natahuje do prázdna,

Zavěšená v prostoru, směr i cíl

bez ustání hledá.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

I've seen night terrors,

They come in the hours when you're not asleep nor awake

Greet me like an old friend,

Laugh at me, tell me I'm worthless and bound to die soon.

Sometimes I don't believe them

But sometimes I do.

I wish I never knew them,

Wish they'd stay in the dark.

But they seem to be

Walking with me

In broad daylight.

I talked to my nightmares,

They seem not to have any malicious intent but still,

They poison the water

That I'm floating in, can I sink because I've had my fill.

When I'm staring at the ceiling

They come crawling in.

I've felt under the weather,

There has been a storm

And it's raining, too

While I'm missing you

In the coldness of the air.

[wallflowerfieldwrites]

I thought I didn’t miss you anymore.

Frankly, I’ve even almost forgotten about you. Never truly, never fully, I guess you’ve always been hidden in a safe little box in the back of my mind - a memory, a memento. A reminder of what was and what might’ve been. I managed not to think about you on a regular basis, though. It felt like I got closure. I moved on.

Then I found out I was moving in circles, or is it life itself that keeps moving in circles? An endless spiral of people and events and circumstances, revisiting same places at different times? Re-opening old wounds, reigniting flames I deemed long extinguished only to find them still smouldering under all the debris of time and space and distance?

I’m afraid I don’t understand anything anymore. I’m just floating through life, thrown around by the current. Where it is all headed, I have no clue. I feel wistful tonight, staring out my bedroom window at the midnight sky, knowing you’re looking at a completely different sky right now.

I will feel better again in the morning. But I’ll still miss you. I don’t think I’ll ever truly stop.