his knuckles are bruised and swollen and his hands shudder slightly as i brush my fingers across them. i feel the pain radiating off of him as intensely as the sun on my neck, and it leaves me with a weight in my chest i can’t seem to shake. i can’t look at his eyes when i whisper

“why do you do this to yourself?” i know, i know, i know,

“every time i am harsh with myself,” he says, turning his hands over to grasp mine, “i remember to touch you more gently.”

“i’m sorry,” she screams, tears running down her face black and glitter-gold, mixing and sticking in her lipstick. “i didn’t know! you didn’t warn me, didn’t tell me how this was going to go down. this is on you, i swear to god, all of this is you.”

she begins speaking and the words flow smoothly. the language is seductively soft, like a snake's hiss before it sinks in its teeth. the fear in their eyes is justified but i am too familiar with death to fear it. death is an old master.

she’s new.

“i am tired of dreaming about you,” i try desperately to sound indifferent, but my eyes are watering and he knows he knows he knows--

he smirks, closing the gap between us with only a step. “i am the only thing you will ever dream about,” he murmurs.

“why are you so afraid?”

one hundred fleeting thoughts run through my head and i can’t seem to hold onto any of them because none of them compare to how much i want to kiss him in this moment.

it was a grey wednesday morning, and i was sitting at my desk, too tired to stand but too rattled to fall back asleep.
the wavering morning light slips through the blinds and thin stripes of sunshine run along the carpet. how strange, i remember thinking, that this is beautiful to me.
looking back, i know why it was beautiful. sunlight, even through blinds, is bright. and it’s warm.
then, i didn’t know warmth was a commodity, or that i should have been savoring the light; holding onto its rays; devouring its heat.

back then, i didn’t know a lot of things.

“i don’t understand you, esi. you claim to be unaffected by trifles of love, but i see the way you look at a sunrise. how can you love one dearly yet abandon its twin entirely? romance is the sister of the sun.”

“what good does it do me to believe in something i can never achieve? i know myself and the intricacies of my inner being. i am not the sort of girl who falls in love.”

"esmeralda."

“it certainly slides off the tongue, doesn’t it,” i say. her eyes are the darkest shade of blue i’ve ever seen. remarkable.

“no,” she says, chin up. “but neither do i.”

“i kissed you because i wanted to kiss you,” she says. “isn’t that enough?”

no! i can’t bring myself to honesty. looking her in the eyes is like dancing with fire. dangerous. “i kissed you because i want to be with you,” i offer, looking away.

she tenses. it’s the most affected i have ever seen her.

“why would you intentionally allow someone to wield power over you? you step perfectly in place for them to checkmate you.”

“yes,” i say with a smile. “that’s the point.”

she scowls. “losing?”

“giving enough of yourself to another person that you have something to lose.”

“truthfully, i'm not sure I ever loved him,” she says. i can see the glint of tears in her eyes, but it isn’t sadness as much as it is shame. she looks away. “but god, i loved the way he looked at me.”

“people used to describe me as innocent,” she said, gazing unaffectedly at her reflection. “i always thought that was bad. i tried to convince them otherwise.” she paused, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “these days i’d do anything for people to look at me like that.”

“she sees the world in shades of red,” he muses. i’m not sure what he means, but i see the fascination in his eyes when he looks at her. or was it desire?

i open my mouth impulsively. “do you love her?”

he laughs softly and turns to look at me. “do you always ask questions to which you already know the answer?” there is a curiosity in his eyes when he looks at me, not in a she’s mysterious and lovely type of way, but rather in a she is nothing if not strange and unpredictable. i could wish it were the former, but i am more than content to simply keep him on his toes.

i look back at audessa, in all her bewildering beauty and rose tones, and for the first time feel no envy. “i wonder how intimate one must be with pain,” i murmur, “to wear it so beautifully.”

his smile falters ever so slightly as he glances back at audessa. “very intimate indeed.”

i’m looking around and realizing slowly that i am boring. for all my pride and perfectionistic tendencies, my life became everything except the things i truly wanted. i have the safety, the reputation, the social circle—but where is my art? i've spent so long becoming someone, i forgot everything i wanted to create. after all, it's only the things outside of ourselves that outlive us.

a sort of desperation rises from the pit in my stomach and my hand darts out to catch her as she turns. “liza, i--”

“no!” she yanks away. “you can’t just come back here like this.” she looks to the side, looking at anything but me. “i can’t handle this, nick,” she whispers. “i can’t handle you.” her eyes are shining when they finally meet mine. “you and i, we’re too much. i can’t think about anything when i’m with you, and you,” she trails off and takes another step towards the door. “you never think at all.”

“i am very, very alone,” she said. there was an air of desperation in the words--despair. when i looked in her eyes i saw hopelessness. “art is not a companion, or a friend. at best, it is a feeling. more often, it’s a drug.” she began to turn away.

i knew if she left now, with that, it would stay with her forever. “which part? making it, or feeling it?” she didn’t stop, and i started to walk after her.

“does it matter? you can be an addict or a dealer, but either way you’re a slave.” she let the door close behind her. I stopped walking. enslaved by art. it was romantic, really. in the fatalistic, melodramatic way all artists were.

maybe we are slaves to our art. but aren’t we all enslaved by something?

the blond boy throws his head back laughing, and for a few seconds, i can’t breathe. sheer happiness radiates from his entire body as he laughs--he doesn’t just smile, or chuckle, or scoff, like the other boys do. this was a full-on belly-laugh, the kind that either says i am warm and my joy is rich or my life cannot contain this energy in my veins. i do not know him, but i feel his energy. i hear his laugh.

eliza. truly the most harmless girl i’ve ever met, yet for some reason i’m scared of her. i think it’s her innocence. it isn’t crafted, like félise with her silk and flowers. it’s real, realer than any character or trait i’ve ever worn and somehow that gives her power. i’m afraid of her because i know that my most authentic self never emanated that power, i know i was hopeless and helpless until i put on feelings and faces that were foreign to me. i found my confidence in the dream i became, the illusion that replaced my name.

but eliza, she wore her own skin with a vibrancy i could never compete with, a subtlety i’ve never known. her words fall heavy on my ears, and when she speaks i'm transported to a church pew back home, shame crawling up the back of my neck as a red-faced pastor tells me i’m decrepit, derelict, and condemned. hers was a beauty that outshone all others. i felt insecure even in her presence.

nikolai. oh, nikolai. have you ever looked at someone and had this strange feeling they were burning themselves to the ground? not literally, obviously, but there was just this look in his eyes, some mixture of deadness and passion so white hot I knew it was scalding him. a bad boy fantasy gone wrong--he had all the danger but none of the romantic tendencies or weaknesses. of course, he dallied in the occasional love affair, but only when he knew it would fuel his self-destruction. he was dangerous in that way--he intentionally and enthusiastically perpetuated his own disasters. more dangerous, though, was his tendency to allow his shrapnel to exceed the intended target.

her eyes! sometimes they compare eyes to pools and oceans but her eyes were warm, calm, the serenity of a house cat sprawled in the sun and a sparkle so joyful i felt sure one minute in her life would rival the most powerful day in mine. she shone like selenite and left warmth behind where others left shadows.
spring and summer defined her equally well.

pierre laughs softly--so softly it sounds more like a sigh, or as if he is beginning to cry. she looks at him from the corner of her eye. there is something in him she cannot exactly place, something strange, or sad. maybe it’s his eyes? his eyes are dark blue, darker and bluer than any ocean knows how to be, and while they aren’t necessarily sad, there is an unmistakable solemnity to them.

old. they’re old eyes.                                                                              .

“look, i’m not saying this to sound cool, or edgy, or to put you off, but i guess i’ve just always been a bit of...” she trails off and looks down, then shrugs. “a loner. and not like a ‘lone wolf’ kind of thing, i just feel like i have a hard time connecting with people, or that maybe people have a hard time connecting with me.” esmeralda half-smiles and looks up into his eyes. “but i’m sure you don't have the slightest idea what that’s like, do you?”

the dark-eyed girl, audessa, laughs. her laugh sounds like red velvet or crystal champagne glasses and it’s magnetic. even nikolai seems enraptured by her, and he is never impressed with anyone. envy rises in my throat.

he steps closer now, and i can feel his breath on my neck. maddening. “what are you trying to do,” i whirl on him, fingernails digging into my palms and my heartbeat pounding in my head. “drive me insane?”

esi tilted her head, smiling this strange, did-you-actually-just-ask-me-that smile. she leaned forward across the table and whispered, “why would i ever want to fall in love?”

esi moves her hands towards the candle again, and i hold my breath as the flame flickers, turning from a warm glow to a bright light to almost nothing, a mere spark dancing and flickering on the black wick. incredible. i look around, from eliza to dessa to desmond, and all i see is fear in their eyes---the deep, vacuous fear you see in the eyes of someone staring a tsunami in its face.

the ants in my veins dont bite me anymore
was it something i did? are they dead?

or is there just less to feed on?

i asked you to share yourself and
you told me there wasn't
time
or trust
and i said if we don't make it,
there never will be

someone once told you that your bitterness was like dark chocolate,
a delicacy, something unusual and rich and exquisite.
i'm here to tell you that even the bitterest of chocolate is sweet
compared to you.

i guess problem-solving becomes a skill when
you need it to survive. i wish i could learn
something i could use to thrive.

is this rage my sword?
are those eyes her arrows?

                                                  is humanity an armory or an army?

when blood rains from the heavens
is it our reward
or our reckoning?

above all,

                                               is this sword for me? should i fall on it?

and the Stars. looking down at this
boiling pit
smile softly,
wickedly,
murmuring to each other
do they know we see them? do they see us?

and the Earth, groaning
as she turns,
mutters
*do they see each other?

i still care for you.
in a small, true way
this piece of me
is always you.

i am sitting and pressing green paint in misshapen swollen dots on my nail beds and thinking what if i mess this up? i am notoriously bad at fingernail painting and i ruin it and i am also afraid i will ruin myself by loving you.

yes, yes i hear you like a train. my head is all railroads and oceans, but i hear you puffing and whistling he does not love you, he would not love you, he loves her. long hair hazel eye i am not her i cannot be that girl i do not want to be his girl

but i want him to want me
oceans
trains

i think we all have that one person we know
could have changed us

i know i do. i know every time i see your picture i think that could have been mine and i know when you see me you see a missed opportunity but there's no going back now and sometimes doors only open once. and it's not that i want that life, i didn't want it when i lived it, didn't want the place or the people or the rules but i always wanted you.

i think if i kissed you just once maybe i wouldn't regret everything else. maybe then it would be worth it.

i know you think of me sometimes.
please think of me sometime.

maybe the key was not something i had to look for,
but something that found me.

manic!depressionmanicdepression manic.
shhhhh her mind sleeps slowly and breathes
she doesn't think her fingers need time to bleed her breath
bleeds she
takes a breath and beats time back into his box.
he rattles.
no no that's me , that is me again. rattling.
ribs are useless. maybe i have three lungs and no heart. i feel only breaths and no beating,
only the beating of time in his box and
he screams. no
no that is me.

i never understood people who liked those who weren't good for them.

then i met you.

a different sort of nerves
run up and down my spine
this is new, this is taking
breath and spitting out
a lie, chewing on the
tacky bits of life yet
still forgetting you
will die;
because death falls
through the walls
and takes us even
if we cry,
if we lie;
death is deaf to
tacky pleas and
pulls our breath out of
the lungs
beneath our spines.

every place i turn i see
my own sadness staring
back at me, i know
you say you're there
behind the glass
but seeing past my reflection
feels like an impossible task.
the floor is so inviting,
i know they say
isolation is harming
but i crave it; if i could escape
the company of my own sadness
i think the mirrors
might finally break.
i know you think it's you
i'm running from but i'm just
trying to find a room where
i don't have to look up.
yes, i haven't looked you
in the eyes in a while.
sadness is a curtain
i don't know
how to
draw.

she asks the keyboard tenderly, each key
a little closer to the person
she wants to be
but farther every time she
asks for them.
how to be someone without
trying to become them first,
how to exist with someone
but not for them, how to know
when you have crossed the
line between being and
wannabeing
yeah i guess
that's
part of me
now.

fling words into the keyboard and try not to cry

why would i bother trying to make my words appease you? we are two equal wholes of this and i still look for you to complete me.

i am a small girl and many think i am harmless. i am disarming. i am smiles and laughter and the way your eyes look when you feel understood. i am the light in your irises.

i am a small girl and many think i am harmless. i am charming. i am small touches on your cheekbones and feeling your fingers interlacing through mine. i am the warmth of a lie.

i am a small girl and many think i am harmless. i am alarming. i am your heartbeat when it falters in your chest. i am regret. i am the shaking of your voice and your hands when the anger inside you coats your lips and tongue in red.

i am harming. i am salt in a wound that i created, the only cure that keeps disease aggravated, shards of glass in the water that keeps you alive.

you thought i was harmless. i lied.

we tell
each other
"you belong to yourself"
like that is
something
to be proud of.

i am glad
to say i do not
belong
to me. i am flimsy,
ever-changing,
and insignificant.

i am proud
to say i do not
belong to you.
you are illusory,
holding a pretense
of stability
you could never defend.

i belong
to nothing
but Someone, and
i see you in flowers
and sunsets
and love.

you tell me
"i belong to you
and you to me"
like we are
something
to be proud of.

you ask too many questions
as if i know my mind
i don't know anything but the way
your name rests
on my tongue.

one more time, she whispers,
she whispers violently, tremulously, like an addict whispers
to the fingernail marks in her skin, like persephone whispers to pomegranate seeds, like sin, and her whispers collect on dollar bills in the wind, and the money flies home but she's still sitting in that bin,

wondering if Hades ever regretted his win

WOOP it is all the same with u isn't it, my aquatic lover? would you please! take a moment to keep the drain in place. what EXACTLY did you think would happen when you told all the fish they were insignificant
now the waterlilies spit bile and the dolphins scream

baby, you wanted FREEDOM

                                                     these tsunamis didnt need your pity