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Rae Oct 29
You told me you loved me but I broke anyway
You told me you loved me but the middle fell out and I splintered on the rocks below
You told me you loved me but it's so hard to believe when you say nothing and I have nothing to trust but the voices in my head telling me that you're disappointed, that I annoy you, that you miss her, that I am not what you want.
How do I trust you when I am always ******* up. How do I trust you when I always push you away, or you push yourself off the cliff and don't look back as you fall fall, fall down and leave me behind, alone and cold and empty as always. Empty but full of empty thoughts, empty drawers of you and you and more and you, empty as you fall
How do I trust you when I can't trust myself to make you love me?
How do I trust you when I can't tell if you love me or my warmth, my voice or the comfort my words used to bring, my laugh or its validation, my body or the space it takes up next to you. Sometimes when the sky falls and your eyes turn from brown to black and I wish I could see your face and hear your rhythmic breathing, I miss your body and your scent and your voice, and I remember that you don't miss me.
Rae Oct 29
You’re a soft color, almost a sound or a smell, instead
When you smile, something breaks in my chest
A rib, I think. A scapula, a clavicle, perhaps my manubrium.
Tiny earthquakes, in my veins and tendons,
When you press your skin to mine.
Hold my hand, poke my side, lay a wrist on my forehead-
It’s an earthquake with an epicenter,
Expanding waves of zipping electrons and firing nerves
Somewhere between fiery ant invasion and electrocution-
That is your touch. Zaps and sparks that hurt,
Nips and bites that sting long after sustained
The worst part is when you realize, when you give me that
Slow, half-apologetic, half-self-deprecating, half-pleased lip twitch-
And then you smile, and you eyes crinkle and sparkle and I
Forget why I never told you that I love you.
Rae Oct 29
The world is a great whirling place.
The wind is always moving,
Jets streams, high and low pressure,
Hurricanes and tornadoes and sweet-smelling,
Gentle afternoon breezes accompanied by sweet iced tea and
A smooth, southern belle accent.

It’s all a reaction, a string of effects that affect another
Effect.
You sneeze, you end world hunger.
You cough, you **** a man in France with a
.22 that you stole from your mom.

The Butterfly Effect
An interesting movie, that one
Though the only scene I’ve ever seen
Was Ashton Kutcher waking up and somehow having
Spent the night with his boyhood crush as an adult
In her college dorm.
(Did I imagine that?
Who knows.)

Regardless: I’m curious
What each of my heartbeats does to the economy of Taiwan.
What the smell of my shampoo does to the eruption of a volcano in Hawaii.
What the cut of my dress does to the graying hair on an old man living
In a flat in central London.
Excuse me, I meant greying.

It’s also funny: what does one random smile from me
Do to a stranger for the rest of the day?
What does my stumble up the stairs
Do to a Spanish teacher as they come back from their lunch break?

If we’re all connected, then shouldn’t everything we do determine something else?
And isn’t everything we do determined by something else?
So was everything determined by one singular action at the very beginning?
Can there be an origin action without an action to originate that, and one to originate that, and-
Well, I’ve heard that’s God: he’s the hand that tipped the first domino,
The only thing in existence that defies all science and reason;
Whether that’s true or not is for a different day
With a different girl with a decent amount of sleep.
Rae Oct 29
He thought a bone shattered
A rib, perhaps
Something in his chest, at least.
It shattered, or just cleaved right down the middle.

She was abrupt, rude, almost
Straight and to the point.
If her words were a symphony,
She’d be staccato, short and sharp and
Leaving you wondering if there was a point to that repetitive noise.

He was a chorale, smooth and savory and lagato
A long soothing soak in the tub
A gentle wash of waves over the sand.
His words were rounded stones
His tongue felt-lined and soft.
When he spoke, his notes serenaded you
And you found yourself leaning forward to catch each
Harmonious line and shifting melody.

Together, she clanked, cursed
Destroyed anything pleasant around.
She crushed him, overpowered him
Distasteful dissonance and an F sharp where the
Key signature clearly called for F natural.

Either way, she broke him with one clipped,
Short confession
As sentimental as her usual tune
Despite its overarching message.
She loved him?
Inconceivable.
Things like her didn’t love
They clanked along, out of tune,
Tone deaf, a child banging on a piano
Violently punching and spasming over the keys.

She broke him, in half
A crack down the middle that slowly scritched and scratched its way
Until he was only connected by lungs and a heart in the very middle.

Love?
No.
She did not love him.
She could never love him.
Rae Oct 29
Momentless
If the blur of colors never stops how do I tell where the rainbow ends and the rain begins
If you pull hard enough maybe the stuffing will come out, if you tear strong enough maybe I will split open and pour out onto the pavement
Stretching, always stretching
Time is a melted clock, puddles puddles on the floor at your mangled feet, I broke them, I crushed them in my haste to leave
You say forever is false and that the ending will one day come
But how can I trust you to be present-ever when you plan for death
When you tell me the apocalypse is near and you are leaving without me, no, that I will leave you to love another, leave you and never return
How do I trust the middle when you denied the beginning
How do I trust the middle when you swim to the cliff, see the depth of the water, and tell me we'll drown.
Rae Sep 2019
Behind her green sunglasses were two gray eyes
And behind her two gray eyes was her gray lumpy brain
In inside her gray lumpy brain were 86 billion neurons
And fired between those 86 billion neurons was one echoing electrical signal thought:

The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.
Rae Sep 2019
The shaft of moonlight stabs the
Soft skin between my *******.
I stare at the tips of my flesh
Imagine a babe suckling there.

You once told me you wished for children.
You once told me my hips and soft stomach foretold a healthy and long motherhood.
You once told me I already smelled of milk and sweet breath;
All I lacked was the baby powder.

You once told me.

You once told me the pink and purple of my *** was too mottled and unkempt.
You once told me the space between my eyes offset the masters degree I hung on my office's wall.

You once told me if I put as much time into my job as this family, I wouldn't be watching you shove your clothes into a worn and broken-toothed suitcase.

You used to lie there, between my *******,
The moisture of your breath evaporating off my skin and cooling my ******* to a point.
You'd laugh, press a kiss to each,
And tell me they must miss your tongue and teeth.

I scoot up the bed, sheets scratchy and sticking to my flushed skin.
The moonlight traces a path down my ribcage and navel,
A touchless touch that makes me ache for real fingers and real body heat.

I hear him, moving about the kitchen
Humming that Bob Seger song that tickled the back of my neck when I slid onto the back of his motorcycle,
Voices echoing in the half-empty parking lot.
I can see his hips swaying in the night sky
The slow ****** and long extended neck in the clouds.
I can smell his sweat and ***** on my body, the moist night breeze pushing him further into my lungs.

I press my face to the pillow
Inhale the detergent where you used to sweat pheromones, drool on, and bite when I kissed my way down between your thighs.

He starts to whistle, the *******.

He's tone deaf.

I press my lips flat, contain the laughter my body aches to set free.

You once told me that to be with a man was denying my true sexuality.
You once told me that if we were to marry, I'd never know a day without true joy.

I wonder what it felt like, love,
When he ****** you in our bed.
When he ate you on our sheets
Your *** on him his scent on you.

I wonder what it felt like, love,
To watch me fall apart.
To watch me scream and tear and bash my heart against the wall, the scent of your betrayal still hanging in the air between us.

I wonder what it felt like, love,
To deny your true sexuality.

I promised to love you forever.
I promised to care for you, in sickness and in health.
I promised to give you my all, and protect your heart with my life.
I promised.


He reaches the chorus one last time, and I feel my head begin to bounce
My toes tapping against the cool yellow paint of the wall.
The scent of bacon drifts beneath my door, overpowering his ***** and my sweat
And I roll out of bed, stomach grumbling.

I promised to love you forever, love.

When I **** him, I don't think of you.
When I **** him, he calls my name, not God's.
And when I **** him
I love it
And I don't miss your ***** for one ******* second.

Even his ******* bacon taste better than yours, you ****.

And when I tell him I love him, my lips against his naked shoulder,
My heart in my shaking hands,
He doesn't say that he's been ******* the mailman for the past three weeks.
And our married neighbor Kim.

He says "I love you, too."

And I believe him.
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