Anger is like the headlights of an incoming truck. It's blinding, and you'll never realize you were on the wrong side of the road until the moment of impact.

a.g

Wax drips out from gently
smiling jaws. Teeth melt.
Tongue unfurls, colliding
out of a gunshot-wound
mouth. Lips slack and empty.
Molars bend, bend, break at the touch,
all brittle and slipping down
a tunneled throat towards
the epiglottis.
Stop the breath
in the lungs, burn the
esophagus, choke down
saliva out of distended glands.
Everything breaking and bursting and
everything falling apart and
The realization that you just
can't say 'I love you'
anymore.

A glimmer of hope
A naïve joke
Some things will never change
This place is still the same

These things do not exist

The flesh torn from my bones
My heart has turned to stone
Running, bare and empty
Surrounded but alone

It all started with a crush.
His crush. Of course.
Because crushes are irrational,
And I am a rational being.
I AM NOT--according to Freud,
Reason, desire, and appetite.
I AM NOT the desire to love or be loved.
I AM NOT the appetite for companionship.
I am, solely, reason. Or so I thought.
But rather, I was HIS reason.
His reason for being so shy.
For waiting 4 months to ask a simple question.
For asking my friends if I were seeing someone.
For blushing every time I asked "How are you?"
For posting on fb "anyone down to chill?"
For continuing to try to ask me out even after saying no…
On 5 different occasions.
But on that sixth try… there was no reason.
No reason for me to say yes, but every reason in the world to say no.
But without reason, I gave him a shot.

"Enjoy the beginning," they say.
"Live in the moment."
But how?
How do I enjoy this state of being we've fallen into?
How do I enjoy his hand intertwined with mine?
His sweet caressing that puts me at such ease.
His light kiss on my forehead that extinguishes every fear, every worry; that makes me feel utterly protected.
His quick squeeze that reminds me that he'll always be there.
His deep stare that's empty of all judgments and criticisms.
How do I enjoy his presence?
That presence that puts a smile on my face
That eases my anxiety,
Relaxes my muscles,
Makes me unclench my fist,
Breaks down my walls,
Softens my tone,
Brings out my warmth,
And makes me utterly and completely happy.
That gives that feeling of lo-… wait, no.
I promised and swore.
I scout's honored...
"I, Krystina Curry, scout's honor to never fall in love again."

Yet, even in such a perfect state, those thoughts linger…
My imagination can still get the best of me.
I can imagine his hand in hers.
I can imagine him turning his cheek,
And pressing his lips to hers.
I can imagine this moment dissipating, and fading away.
I can imagine his interest fluttering away,
Just like the others.
So easy to just pick up and go,
To pick the next one to come along.
The 'better' one.
I can imagine myself falling back,
Into that hole I've come to know all too well.
Those waves of insecurities start to come crashing down,
Breaking my bones,
Making me gasp for air,
Desperate for that sense of security and comfortability.
Something so good never lasts long. Enough, at least.
And I know this fact all too well.