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derelictmemory Jul 2015
There are these moments
the spaces of time between you and I
Where my hands clench into fists
As if trying to fill the space yours should be

Where my heart feels so full
that I wish I could give you parts of it
So that you can feel
Feel all these emotions
That lead right back to love

Where I close my eyes
and there's this serenity
Because my eyelids imagine your eyes
And my pupils dilate

Where my lips feel unkissed
because I have yet to have yours
Touch mine

Where my mind drifts and flows
right back to where you first let yourself
go with me
feel with me
be with me

And where home is
home being your radiating presence
Making the static turn
and everything is in High Definition

the definition of your entirety
of you
with me
in a blissful limbo
down by the river
watching the lights
hearing the people
experiencing life
within and without
derelictmemory Jul 2015
I'm an architect, it's true.
I make homes out of people,
more often than I should.

All it takes is a breath of fresh air
and a hundred nights
and twice as many days.

It starts with hello, or hi,
whichever is preferred.
Laying the foundation, slowly.

Then the layers,
peeling off old memories
of faces from a past I can barely remember.

I'll ponder on the materials,
and I'll begin.


Sometimes it doesn't work out
because the brickwork was all wrong.
Sometimes it falls a part
because the cement isn't strong.
Sometimes it holds, at least for awhile,
before crumbling into dust.

When I saw you, I drew up plans in my head,
blueprints,
everything was fixed in my head.
Then I tried building you.

It was the hardest **** thing
I've ever done,
it kept crumbling half way up.

A loose brick here,
unsteadiness there...
It was doomed from the start.

But I kept trying anyway.

Because when I was tired,
you told me stories.
And when  I got hurt,
you cared for my wounds.
When I start to doubt,
you tell me it will be okay.

Come rain, come shine,
you stayed
and I built a home out of you.
I had a home because of you.

But the weather had its game face on,
and you tried to stay strong.

It started with small leaks,
just stray drops from the storm
then gaping holes in the roof...
The walls grew mould.

But I stayed.
And here I stay.

I make homes out of people,
more often than I should.
And for now, you'll be the last
one I try to fix even after
you've broken and left me for dead.

Maybe in a few months I'll try again.
I'll use someone else as inspiration.
And I'll make a home out of them,
just like I tried to with you.
derelictmemory Jul 2015
Your father told you that a boy of his stature will only see the way your eyes blink and not look at the galaxies within your irises.

Your mother has always said that your life has to be like the linens in the drawer; bought, used, washed, dried then used again.

Your Math teacher was adamant on equating your worth to a quadratic equation with only two variables; tears and blood.
But you told her that her equations were nothing compared to the way his hands held your face like you were as fragile as woven silk.

Your English teacher once recited a verse to you the way your high priest knelt by the flames but all you heard was a humdrum murmur.

But your art teacher... She could name every tone and shade yet she taught you to confine yourself to primary colours all through life.

Your best friend kept your feet on the ground while your worries flew over you but they couldn't understand the heaviness of that morose feeling in your chest.

Your lover stood by you until the only darkness he could see was his own and yours began to ebb away under the moonlight. He told you that being around you damaged his fragile frame of mind for he could no longer look you in the eye and tell you he loved the way yours were starting to sparkle.

And he was the last one.

He was the last bit of your heart rotting in the dusty corner of a forgotten picture frame in an abandoned hall of memories.
For when you looked at his picture one last time, you flung yourself into the air hoping the water would end things kinder than he.


The end.
  Jun 2015 derelictmemory
Artemis
“Do you think anyone ever really loves anyone else anymore?”

The water is crawling slowly up the shore. You can’t see the sun. He’s hiding behind the clouds again like he has been all week. The forecast had been sunny in the high eighties, and they were right. Partially at least. It wasn’t sunny, but the air was almost thick enough to see and the weight of it was enough to break your legs if you tried to walk for too long. She was sitting next to him. Dragging her finger across the surface of the sand creating these nonsensical shapes like a long lost language she barely remembered how to speak. He sat with his arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes lost somewhere over the ocean far away from the shore.

“You’re not even listening to me are you?”

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but he was used to that.

“I’m listening.”

“Well do you?”

“Do I think people ever fall in love anymore?”

“No, you’re not listening to me. I asked if you thought people ever really loved each other anymore.”

“How is that any different?”

“People fall in love all the time. I know that. But that isn’t really the same as loving someone else.”

“I’m not sure I can agree with that.”

“Think about it.”

She doesn’t carry on right away. She told him to think about it and that was exactly what she intended for him to do. A sun now sits above her absent minded art. It’s simple. Just a few lines emitting from a circle like a child would draw in first grade.

“We spend our entire lives falling in love. We hear all these ideas about what the world should be like, and how people should treat each other. And it all sounds nice, but everything is so impractical, and people are so quick to move on from things that don’t yield quick results. We never stick with anything no matter how nice it sounds. We fall in love with the idea that everyone should be treated equally. We love the idea of a world where people are treated more like people, and less like machines. So what do we do?”

“I don’t know. What do we do?”

“We sit behind screens and go through the motions like we’re making a difference. Sometimes I wonder who we think we’re fooling. You can sit on Facebook, Twitter, or Tumblr all day long and rant about how messed up the world is, but it’s all so pointless. We know we’re not really changing anything, and it’s not, like, something we feel deep down or anything like that. It’s so fake we know it on a surface level. But everyone else is doing the exact same thing, and everyone knows that everyone else is being fake.”

She stops talking for a moment. Taking a breath and rubbing out her first grade sun.

“We fall in love with the idea. But nothing happens and in a few months something else will be just as important as equality, and we’ll write and rant just as much about that. We fall in love in our heads every other hour, but no one sacrifices more than a few hours of their day and maybe some money. Until you sacrifice more than you would ever want to there’s no way for anyone to know that this ‘love’ we have has any substance.”

A crescent moon has replaced her sun. She turns to look at him.

“I don’t think it’s so different. I’m afraid because it seems like we fall in love with people like their ideas. You can go through all the motions and make everything look absolutely perfect. The guy can send her the sweetest good morning and good night texts everyday. He can buy her flowers, and hold her hand at the movies. He can pay for every meal, and hold open every door. All to the point where he actually convinces himself that he’s fallen in love with this girl. Unfortunately everyone is different and it’s just not that simple. They want to end up in different places. She wants kids. He doesn’t. He wants to focus on his career, and travel the world. She wants to settle down, and start a family. He has no time for her dreams, and she isn’t very tolerant of his. Neither one is willing to sacrifice anything for the other.  So everything falls apart because he was looking for someone to wake up to on the few days a week that he was home, and she was looking for someone who would actually be home. We fall in love with our ideas of people, and I’m just not sure anyone falls in love with another person anymore.”

“I think we could.”

“Yeah?”

She watches him as the tide tries to work up the courage to touch their feet.

“Maybe if we ever just looked up. Forwards for once, and not backwards. Maybe if we tried we could see what was coming. Maybe if we knew what was coming we would know who we would want to go through it all with. Like if you knew you were going to struggle to hold a job for the rest of your life. That would be hard right? So whose hand would you want to hold when you realize you don’t have the money to pay rent this month? Who would you give up the last slice of bread for when you can’t afford any more food for a few more days because payday isn’t until Friday? Because sometimes that’s what life is like, and it is in those moments that everything seems to fall apart. On the surface it seems terrible, to lose everything that we know, but the reality is that we lose everything we have that we don’t need.”

The clouds are moving overhead. You can’t make out their shapes because of the way they’re stacked together, but the way he stares up at them makes her think he see’s something in them she can’t.

“Sacrifice is a two-way street. It’s not only about who you want to be there with you when you feel like you’re getting dragged through hell. It’s who wants to be dragged through hell with you. Not only that, but who would be happy being burned alive as long as they get to hear you breathe. It doesn’t happen often, but yeah, I think it does happen from time to time.”

*~W.C.
derelictmemory Jun 2015
You let things fall through the cracks
Watch them slip away
Watch them float to the ocean floor

Words.
              Lost words.
                                    Last words.
                                                          ­Unsaid words.
Misplaced.

But gripping too tightly breaks things
Crushing memories
                                     Crippling silence
                            Dust.
Holding on for longer than necessary

No wind is strong enough
       No amount of time is still enough
             No conversation lasted for long enough


I love you.
                    Not said enough.
                                                    Stay.­

Unwired, untrusted
Unfinished, undone
Colour me foolish,
                                  colour me blind.
Colour me foolish,
                                  colour me blind.

Stories have been written about misfortune
Tales have been told about loss
But it didn't prepare me for this
No,
       it didn't prepare me for this

Being irrevocably in love
          and never knowing
                  never knowing

Too little; time
                  hours
                  days
             ­     words
                  memories.          Too late; time
                                                            ­    hours
                                                       ­         days
                                                   ­             words
                                              ­                  memories.


Are you even listening?
        Did you ever pay attention?

"I could never leave you...
  I'm so sorry..."
                                              "I love you..."

The end.
                The end.
                                 The end.
                                                  The end.
derelictmemory Jun 2015
I feel like I'm dying, from the inside out and i am constantly aware that it's happening but i can't feel it because it hurts too much.

Embers burn and they burn out. That's what the pain will feel like. The embers burning at their peak. But eventually, they burn out like candles blow out. And that's what moving on from you feels like.
It feels wrong and unfinished. It feels unnatural. Like a growth, a mass, a tumour. Like a halfway-paved walk or an unfinished sentence.

But my memories of you will never be chipped from my mind like slamming a ceramic mug onto the tabletop. You've ingrained yourself in every ****** movement I make and I don't know how to make it stop. Because I don't want to forget. I can't forget. I need you because you make me feel real. You make me feel like I matter. And that's the worst thing you could've ever done to me.

Because when you walked away, I lost a huge part of me. I lost a chunk of who I was, who I could be.

"How do you feel?"
"Does it matter? It doesn't change anything."

Because that vacant look in your eye was the last memory of you that I have. The distance.

"Whether it matters or not is not the point."
"I love you."

Because the first time I said it, would be the last time you'd hear it. It's been 10 days since then. And 28 since you stopped caring. It's been 3 years and 4 months since we first met. But a day has not gone by when my heart doesn't hurt because you're no longer here.

You said that you'd never leave me.
And you lied.
You said you cared about me.
And you lied.

You said I could always count on you.
And you lied.
You said you'd never let me go.
And you lied.

You said you loved me.
And you lied.
You said I could trust you.
And you lied.

But I believed you.
I believed in you.
I believed because of you.
I don't know what to believe anymore.

A stumbling hurricane into a newly made up home.
I set roots and you tore me out of the ground.
I held your hand, and you let go.
I shouldn't have let you hold me on the way home.
I shouldn't have let you touch me when my heart hurt.

But I did.
I did and you held me.
I did and you broke me.

You broke me.
I lost my best friend because he couldn't stay with me and not feel hurt by my presence.
derelictmemory Apr 2015
I feel *****. I can feel it still.
I can hear the echoes and taste the blood.
I hear myself say it
No
No
No
You told me not to lie,
You wanted me to lay
Not my heart just my body
I said it
You told me not to lie
A day and six hours
It's been a day and six hours
And I can still feel your hands and your lips
I tried to pull away
But I got caged
By myself
By you
I let it
I let it happen
I said no
Didn't you hear me
I can hear your voice
The phantom limbs
Please
No
No
No
Don't touch me
Please
"Don't lie, you like it."
I don't want it
Please
I'm sorry
No
No
No
I can't
It's a nightmare
And I flinch
I can't
Hold myself together
It didn't go as far as you would've liked
What if the movie didn't end
What if
What if it never ends
Please don't
Please
No
No
No
I said no
I swear I did
But I let it
I let it happen anyway
I'm sorry
He was stronger
I got scared
I let it happen
I LET IT HAPPEN
I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN
I SHOULD HAVE
I couldn't.
Please don't touch me

I want to sink
let me sink
A day and seven hours
Please
I don't want to feel it
I don't want to remember
Please
Please
Please

I can still hear his voice
Feel his touch
Smell him
I see it
Clear as day in my mind
The movie isn't ending
Please
It needs to end
I've had the first two lines of this in my drafts since January 9th and only now can I actually finish it.
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