darling iridescence

darling iridescence Mar 2015

When I see you fall asleep,
closed eyes, expressionless face, sprawled form, I hold my breath until I see you breathe again-- it's true my heart doesn't beat 'til you inhale. you are the most handsome face of death, asleep. I'm afraid if I try to wake you, you won't wake up. and even more afraid that when you're sleeping, you're not really asleep at all.

2. Your hands are not cadavers,
and I know this fact because they are torn and callused. funeral hands are pretty and funeral faces are powdered. make up is not an art for post-mortem, but a sad reflection of what was. I like you a little unkept because that means you're not 6 feet under.

3. I refuse to wash the sheets**
because they smell like us, throes of passion, loving contact.I can't easily let go. all i can remember is clutching them like a lifeline and then clutching you. safe as a cradle, we'd drift off in languorous sleep-- twisted limbs and all. no matter what, we are somewhere in that bed still. and I don't know if I ever want to climb out.

#love #fear

darling iridescence Mar 2015

…

they call me an artist,
but i'm just trying to be worthy of that title.

darling iridescence Mar 2015

love is not the answer.

city streets won't tell me what sunsets spent without you already know. they can't whisper like our hushed conversations--pillow talk on the highway is for gypsy lovers but we're not caravans because i'm the only one drifting. i'm lost as ever, and in being lost, i'm so free. i am directionless yet i'm yearning for the taste of living. does it taste like your skin? i wouldn't know. there's a certain loneliness that clings to each 2 a.m. pondering. i ache. i ache and i ache.

i always had fondness for lying in an ocean bed since waves were a warmer blanket than most arms i have known. drowning is a fantasy of mine but i didn't know it was just as possible to drown in a person as it was in the sea. riptides have nothing on you.

i could tell you i love you, i could. I always will in some capacity. "what-if's" cling to the roof of my mouth for much longer than peanut-butter sandwiches and lunch time. i make myself sick with remembrance. i dream about your eyes. you're far away from me, reaching for a pillow, or maybe even another set of hands. i ache.*

and i know they told me otherwise, but love is a question, love has never been the return reply.

a girl i never stopped loving

#love

darling iridescence Mar 2015

†

girls are always told about princes and saviors. fairytales and crowns. but prince charming isn't always charming. and good little christian girls are told "jesus died for you". you're saved by a blood sacrifice yet they say it's wrong to bleed out things on the alter unless you're virginal wives.

and i don't believe in saviors but i know a lot of knives. I know a lot about sacrifices. I know a lot about looking in the mirror and not recognizing the mascara streaked version of myself in my own eyes. that's a dark part of me i'm trying to unlearn, but i'm not sure muscle memory will stop me from reminiscing the singing of razor blades and the way some people gave me the exact same feeling.

head is reeling. wine. didn't he say that it was his blood? drinking 'til we see our graves, trying to forget what his lips looked like, trying to forget the taste of our sacrifices to an undeserving prince. they say the bible is open to interpretation but i have a feeling that isn't what it meant.

addressing unwritten misogyny and bad boys who like to toy with hearts

#religion

darling iridescence Mar 2015

in case of another blizzard

I have had more lovers than winter jackets
and maybe that's why I'm never cold.

x

darling iridescence Feb 2015

second chances

with all the experience
of tying friendship bracelets,
i would've thought that by now,
you would know a lot about "tying the knot".
but my favorite love song never sounded like "commitment"
(yours even less so), and the best romance i've had were always
tinged with confusion and regret
that bled like paper cuts.
maybe there's a reason
my fingers were always too small
to hold on to rings (they inevitably fell off).
maybe there's a reason
my hands were never strong enough to hold on to
another person's grasp, but strong enough to break hearts.
maybe there's a reason i am more inclined to want something
temporary and fleeting;
i live like i'm a vehicular accident waiting to happen
and love like i'm already in my coffin.

rejection tastes similar to second chances, and i guess that's
why you want to kiss me so badly, to maybe try and
rid yourself of her mournful eyes, or the look she gave you
when she said "let's just be friends."

oh.

#love #chances

darling iridescence Feb 2015

"hello"

It wasn't the way she walked or the way she spoke.

It wasn't even the way she was so distant, mysterious, perplexing, an everlasting enigma. It wasn't the way she could never quite articulate the distance from her body or the distance from everyone else.

It wasn't the way she didn't want to be kissed and only wanted *** because it was rough and made her feel something. It wasn't the way she loved ****** art, the way it looked at a ****** scene.

It wasn't the way she could smile. Intense. Everything she did was all or nothing, everything was the intensity of one extreme or the other. The only conception of "in-between " she had, was love.

It was the way she walked away, leaving behind a massacre of broken hearts.

*(you never had me at "hello", but god, what an impression of "goodbye")

#hello #goodbye #impressions