the existential romanticist

the existential romanticist May 2016

i don't remember the first time i kissed you but i know for certain it was between when i last called him on the phone and when you took the bobby pins out of my hair and somehow in between that time frame i went from feeling my physical body shrink under the crushing weight of reality to feeling my heart start to rediscover its heartbeat before it completely stopped beating

i don't know when you first started to fall in love with her or when you last looked her in the eyes and decided that leaving would be near impossible to do but all i can say is that if you look at her the way i look at you then maybe i can understand you wanting to go back and i can understand that losing a friend might be worse than losing a lover, but just know that the sunrises we've greeted together will forever be etched in my mind
amidst telling me to be careful there are echoes of you're beautiful's and rooms full of laughter filled from tickles and silly eskimo kisses and even if we were doomed from the beginning and she has your heart entangled in a web strong enough to convince you to leave me know that the soundtrack of all those pink floyd albums we listened to together are always going to remind me of the endless nights we spent together when i was convinced no matter if everything around us burned down we would stay more alive than ever in the fire
i need to be honest with you - i've whispered to countless broken hearts that my eyes cannot reiterate anything others did and no matter how hard my body is squeezed i'll never be able to transform into her when they wake up in the morning, and sometimes i wish i could just because i know you would be happier than ever; maybe happier than i could ever make you; but that doesn't mean that i'll stop trying to make memories of the ashes from something long forgotten
i'll try to build a shelter in your heart to protect it from the storms, i'll try to make you strong enough to face the hail, i'll try to engrave my smile in your clothes so that you can remember we're all imperfect but sometimes even pros aren't faking it, i'll try to show you that hips were made for dancing together in the least likely places, and i'll try to get over my fear of being picked up, i'll try to learn to trust, i'll try to remember that not everyone lies and that maybe, maybe it'll be okay

maybe it wasn't a mistake when our lips clashed together like the way the tide crashes into the sand 46 days ago, maybe it wasn't a coincidence that your couch felt more like my home than my bedroom did, maybe it's not a mistake to give this a try

but, maybe

maybe it is

i'm so torn and confused and not even writing is helping solve this

#love #depression #angst #confusion

the existential romanticist Apr 2016

comparisons

01:39 on a Wednesday and I realised no, it's not like the way water effortlessly flows down the window shield just to get swept away by the wiper

my love isn't elegant, and there's no point in me pretending to reshape it; think a hurricane, a tsunami, a natural disaster; think beds collapsed under the weight of too much love, think lips so raw blistex wouldn't stand a chance to heal them, think new memories being made everyday so that eventually you stop living in the past because your brain tells you this is it - this is what it was and what it will be [even if just for an hour]

put into context a shade of red somewhere between maroon and magenta and then throw it on a white canvas, see how beautiful it becomes only when it encompasses everything, when it becomes one with that paper holding it up; do not fear my love, please; let me spread around and let me be the one to give you colour, let the bleak melt away

don't let your mind wander to tape because i won't tape any holes I see or scars I run across; I'm not a doctor and never learned to be one

BUT, I will help: I'll be there with your favourite beer, there with neosporin in handy just because I've learned a little sting in the beginning is worth a lifetime of infection, standing there in your favourite shirt and purposefully letting you see that height is just a number and bruises are just colours of memories once lived

01:40 and I think I realised that somewhere in between being a hopeless romantic and being numb I've lost myself, bits scattered in blankets and sheets long laundered after me; I've realised that I don't know what I can and can't give, and I've realised neither does he

here it is: think. think the earth and the moon. think gravitational pull and how the moon is pulled back to the earth if for nothing else because there's some kind of connection it can't control. now think us, and tell me: is it not we're the Galaxy?

#love #sadness #angst

the existential romanticist Apr 2016

wishful thinking [midnight thoughts]

Let me get to know you inside and out; let me get to know your biggest fear and what type of soup you like, tell me more about how you like smoking at two am to clear your head, let me get inside your brain and not just your mouth

Speak to me more than just in body language, tell me stories of your childhood you never dared to repeat, relive the best memories with me in places so void of aging we're convinced we're timeless

Get to know my scars inside and out and let me keep my bandaids for as long as I need, kiss my bruises and tell me that getting up is a process and you'll be trying too, convince me that nails are meant to be broken and laughter is meant to sound hoarse because everything in life is messy and that's the beauty of it

Please, let me know that we're okay - speak louder than their words and look me in the eyes, don't tell me lies coated in beautiful letters, tell me truths so raw it'll burn your tongue and pierce my ears; tell me that we were meant to burn but burning alive never scared you, take my hand and lead me into a forest so dense I won't be able to find my way back and hide the flashlight, let my instincts guide me to you and for the love of god don't let go of my hand when I run back to you

Convince me I'm whole and let me show you you're broken, kiss me goodbye and let me teach you why hello is my favourite word, entangle me in kisses and let me be your oxygen when you're left breathless;

help me believe in 11:11 again

#love #passion #confusion

the existential romanticist Apr 2016

confessions [3]

1.) I wanted things to work out between us
2.) Even though they didn't that doesn't mean I don't think about how soft your lips were the first time we kissed
3.) I tried to replace you but ended up getting hurt again
4.) I need to stop falling for rock n' roll loving nicotine addicts
5.) No matter how many knee high socks for confidence I wear I always seem to choose the wrong people
6.) I stopped being sure in my judgement a long, long time ago
7.) I could see myself falling so madly in love with you and your laugh, so in love with the way your hair looks in the morning
8.) My body remembers things far longer than my eyes ever will and no amount of touching will replace your fingers on my skin
9.) I've lost myself in an abyss of emotions that only come too fast and stay too long
10.) I want to say I'm learning but I feel like I'm stuck in the tar, covered in black and lifeless

lists can't ever really help ease what's there

#love #depression #sadness

the existential romanticist Apr 2016

what is poetry?

let me tell you about poetry

let me tell you about how the sunlight hits his eyes and his pupils dilate just enough for me to see my reflection lost in the pool of a mind full of everything but chlorine

let me tell you about the way his words electrify his touch so at one point i'm convinced i'm being struck by lightning, ready and waiting for the storm to come shortly after

let me tell you about how he likes his coffee black and about how he never seemed to learn the word bad, about how he in the most exposing hours of the night strips down to the bare minimum - his soul, about how he loses his thoughts and reverts back to old questions, about how he keeps practicing the art of deception over and over again just to prove to himself he's still got it

let me tell you about how he wears himself on his sleeve and about how i know that in the gaps between when we feel our heart beats in our throats and through our veins, we will never work out, about how he sees shades of blue but i see shades of pale, about how he's an open book but i was taught books are better kept closed, about how he's becoming my muse but the minute i start writing about them that signifies it's surely the end

let me tell you about mourning before it's begun and about the dark nights spent staying up examining self worth in a queen-sized bed with cigarette butts lining the window sills, about the beautiful agony created and the torturous goodbyes

let me tell you about standing on the edge of a cliff with only two options in front of you and having to ask yourself if it's worth the fall, about how you're so scared of being pushed no matter the promises, but how you know that no matter the spears beneath, his face is all you'd see every single moment your body was falling towards the earth, one step closer to oxygen and closer to death

#love #poetry

the existential romanticist Apr 2016

05-04

words are travelling hundreds of miles an hour through my mind and the only one that keeps coming back to the forefront is your name

they'll tell you not to get attached but you need to hold your ground and hope somewhere in between intertwined bodies and black coffee they can understand that you prefer the word passion

lust and love are not synonymous but i've always had a hard time trying to remember that because how can i tell what's what when the breathing is heavy and the movements slow, the mouths full but the bodies hollow

take me and engulf me in a fire so strong ill burn and forget who i am, take me and kiss me so deep ill become convinced you and i are are not two separate people, tell me what you don't want so i can turn around and give it to you, teach me what i've been learning all along, help me forget that i keep making the same mistakes over, and over, and over again

when i come back push me away, and when you leave kiss me goodbye

reality leaves a lot to the imagination - JL

#love #lust #confusing

the existential romanticist Apr 2016

lo(st) lo(ve)

Timid bodies under blankets too white to be considered innocent

The way the salt from my freshly formed tears touch your lips and you engulf the last of my cells as if metamorphosis were at work

As your fingers trace the bits of my spine that have broken with each time I've fallen on the floor in the blood of a shattered heart, I can't help cringing because how can I not have trust issues from fingers so familiar to the countless ones before, ones that somehow used their intricate DNA to open my chest and leave it bleeding

I wish a drag of nicotine could replace how addicted I am to the way you whisper into my ear, constantly searching for affirmation because controlling yourself isn't your strong suit, but no amount of inhaling is going to teach my lungs to live without the oxygen I get from each kiss

This is temporary love, the kind of love that leaves you breathless for hours on end day by day until eventually you forget how to breathe, the kind of love that they never warn you about because soulmates must exist and they must come together far better than two people under the influence of red wine can, the kind of love where you wake up in the morning and you get struck by eyes so beautifully caring you can tell you won't last much longer

This is temporary love, but you won't stop

This is temporary love but you know it's addicting because leaving your lips stamped on another one is enough to ensure long after you're gone your love can somehow carry on

To you, and you, and you

#love #angst