and I wish the sound of my heart breaking wasn't so familiar.

I don't understand why we're all so young and afraid of getting hurt.
Like **** that fam, we're resilient, we'll heal.
I have no doubt about it- because I've survived so much more than I thought I possible.
You see to me, a young heartbreak is an irrisitible temptation.
Almost as tempting as kissing your lips when you lie next to me,
at night,
smelling of cheap cigarettes and *****.
During the afternoon, when the sun floods my room the way your presence floods into the essence of my being- with no remorse.  
During the times we've choosen not to tell anyone about,
because we're just friends.

I'm not about this thing of loving people with half my heart though -which is why being your friend feels like torture.
You see, I cant love anyone with half my heart,
take the whole danm thing and break it.

Please, I beg this much of you,
because I can handle it,
I can handle so much more than you give me credit for.
I can handle the curve of your naked back
and I know this, not because you've given me the chance to do so,
but because I can handle you when you're fully clothed yelling at me.
And its like you yell louder with each fight, because there's an undercurrent in your voice I've come to recognize as fear,
because I've begun to get too close
and even though you seem strong you're probably more fragile than the bottle of gin that chills on your desk that you emptied a week ago during our last fight.
And it's like you yell louder with each fight because you can't understand why I haven't left yet and in truth I can't understand it either.
I can't articulate it properly but I have a feeling it has to do with the way that you begged me not to leave once,
begged me to stay at 3AM.
Begged me in the most raw way-
I think it was birthed then, my desire not to leave.

See my friend,
I've come to understand your silence more than your words
because you are so ******* choosy when it comes to your words,
and so calculated in your actions,
that your silence speaks to me the loudest.
Your yelling doesn't scare me anymore and neither does your silence.

You were silent that night after our last fight you know,
once you'd calmed down and collapsed into the bed next to me.
You were silent as you pulled me closer,
silent when you choked back tears that night that you thought I didn't see.
I can handle it,
I can handle you
the bird sang to the hurricane.

You see, your silence speaks to me right?
and in your silence you've already left finger prints on my heart ,
so why leave my body untouched?

So I won't be silent around you like I normally am, hear me now babe- take my heart and break it,
break it without fear,
because I don't expect you not to.
What I do expect is for you to understand the fact that I can handle heartbreak
because I'm volunteering myself for the renewal which will come in your wake.

I anticipate you littering your love on the landscape of my heart.
I anticipate the death of our love at your hands,
because I was dead to the idea of loving again before you,
I closed my eyes when I noticed that you'd resurrected empires in the darkest parts of me.
I closed my eyes when you started to breathe life into my brokenness.
I closed my eyes when you started to plant flowers in the rough terrain left by those before you.
I closed my eyes to all your love because you speak to me in ways that I don't quite understand
and have satisfied me in ways I didn't know I craved.

And I crave you in your absence,
not the flesh that you've withheld from me- not for a second.
No,
rather your naked spirit.
Snippets of which you've revealed in moments that you're too drunk to remember.
I crave the love that you're too scared to show me.
Show me your scars
and I'll show you the gruesome ones I've gotten from people I've long since forgotten.
Show me your nature
the winter howled to the heart of summer.

Because you see my love I can't live in fear,
I cant live for the "if only"'s
because they will devour me in a way far more vicious than your love ever could.

So come my love,
come before the Summer ends.
Come teach me a new language of love that only you and I will understand.
Come teach me a new dialect that will die with you and I alone.
Come teach me your ways...
the light whispered to the darkness.

Do me this one favour, destroy me for my art.
Be the hurricane that we both know you are.

And in return I'll do you a favour,
I'll be wildfire,
I'll be a tornado,
I'll be a tsunami,
I'll be a natural disaster,
And my love will speak to you in a way that only you could understand.

Oh please,
Describing yourself as art is an insult.
The greatest art works in the world are complete,
hanging in gallaries,
hidden behind bullet proof glass.
But look at you miraculous human.
Breathing life into a world that is all too often considered cold.
No- art is an insult.
You are a cosmic evolution like no other.
You are both art and artist.
Writer and every single memory echoed onto page.
Oh my beautiful friend,
You are so much more profound than an artwork.
You are a display of nature at it's finest.

I hope the energy you spend on trying to destroy me brings you peace.
Peace of mind - a kind of calm that will wash over you if you realize that you're breaking me down.
I know first hand destruction can be beautiful,
the tearing down of a statue,
the breaking of a wall,
smashing a glass against a wall.

Destroy to create I guess...
I guess I just always thought destroying a human was a little bit messier because we don't break with one definitive sound, we kind of shatter. Our smiles falter,
we choke back tears till our throats burn,
we bite our nails till we bleed,
we bleed so that we can keep feeling.
Breaking a human is a process that I guess you're skilled in my friend.
And it's kind of a Godless business.
To destroy to create
but I find God in my tears and you in my memories
and happiness in the day time and laughter in my mind.
So please- keep destroying me because you're helping me grow even though it's painful and in return I pray it brings you peace - hurting me. I pray you find peace
because God knows you've become restless,
absorbed entirely by vengeance,
an emotion I'm too exhausted to entertain.

I hope you're happy my friend.

I want a reason to write again,
A way to compile my thoughts like letters and slot them, neatly folded into envelopes and store them as keepsakes in my mind.

I want a reason to grip my life with both hands I guess but then again perhaps it's time I let life take me for a ride.
Hop into the passenger seat, shot gun, grinning wildly as the whole thing takes off with me.

And it is taking off with me - my life that is.
At 257 kilometers per hour, per day and for once I'm flinging up my arms, touching the sky, screaming "THANK YOU GOD" for this trip each time I manage catch my breath. Because the whole world is spinning and I don't want it to stop.

You see there hasn't been any time to pick up a pen and jott this all down.
Half the time the moments are so good I don't even want to take a picture because I'm etching the memory into my mind, the sounds of my own laughter ringing in my cells when I collapse into my bed late at night. That's what reminds me that it's been a good day.

It's been months now and there hasn't been a day that's gone past where I haven't laughed and not the shallow kind that we all do where we see a meme or our friend cracks a joke. No I mean REALLY laugh and I guess I forgot what that felt like or perhaps I never really knew.

I never really knew what it felt like to love myself like this because I was always too busy to savour the curves of my body, melt at the sound of my laughter like really fall in love with myself and I think I've finally started to slow down even though everything is speeding up.

I've gotten fatter and I still love myself just the same, I'm just wearing looser jeans and going on more runs and it's all for me.
For once.
Not because I'm worried what people will think but because I want to be healthy and I want to be comfortable when I study till 3AM.

See life is dragging me by my hand full steam ahead and for once I don't feel like I'm walking some tortured path.
See I don't walk anymore, I sprint
and I don't giggle, I actually laugh till I ache.
And I wear my hair naturally
and I wear blue lipstick
and black clothes
and I don't feel the need to apologize for a danm thing because I actually like myself.

So maybe I don't need to write it all down because living is enough.
This sheer bliss- oh it's more than enough and I'm more than okay - even on my bad days.

There’s this girl.
The girl of your dreams I imagine,
A girl who is a dream I imagine.

Wrapped in skin the shade of your perfect daydream,  
perfectly moulded by the palm of your hand.

There’s this girl I imagine,
wrapped around your waist,
exploring the taste of your mouth which used to utter my name.
Not late at night because that was a tired cliché,
no during the day, when the fantasies die and the sun was always a little too truthful.
You used to whisper my name during the day,
during a time which still belong to you and I,                                               during a time in which I was still beautiful to you.

There’s this girl I imagine,
who doesn’t raise her voice when she’s angry,
who doesn’t swear,
who doesn’t dare to break your fragile perception of what a girl is suppossed to be.
You see,
I was all to violent a women for you.
Trying to confine and define me was like trying to wrap your hands around the wind, clutch it to your chest- it was just never meant to be.   I was always too talkative,
too vicacious,
I had too much of a personality.
I was art in the beginning, beautiful to look at and nothing more, but when that art became etched into your memories, and roamed your naked soul, I became all too much.

There’s this girl,
who you can wrap your imagination around,
who is comfortable with living in the confines of what you’d like her to be.

There's this girl you see, wrapped in a fantasy, a girl who isn't me.

There’s this girl you see,
who doesn’t question your silences,
who isn’t interested in your mind,
who praises the land you walk on comfortable walking in the cold of your shadow.

There’s this girl who doesn’t value her power and doesn’t expect you to either. There’s this girl who is an echo of who I used to be.

There's this girl you see,
who just isn't me.

Your love was cancerous
and now I'm in remission.