I need someone to write me.



I know that it seems mad, but I’ve written her into my memory a thousand different ways and I never got the stain she left on my heart just right. at least I’ll just know that she's better than all those mindless love driven ramblings. No, I need someone to write me so I can see what i meant to them.
HOW COME I DID THAT FOR HER? SHE NEVER DID THAT FOR ME..

it’s not that hard to do i think.

a sentence,
a word,
a breath.
GIVE ME ANYTHING that strikes you as me.
a sense of purpose so i can believe in my life again. ive been trying to write myself but the **** pencil  
keeps breaking and i'm shaking too much from those pills taunting me from my desk drawer.

WRITE ME NOW,      i beg.
it seems the trees are my only friend and even those are dying. i can but belting loved by myself isn't enough
and these demons are getting stronger

I want rainy morning naps in sweaters and blankets. I want clumsy kisses in the doorway. I want a warmth from my chest and a happiness that radiates love. I want fingertips on the ridge of my back. I want that feeling in my veins. I want sunset kisses and long drives. I want a balance of love. I want hugs that tumble to the floor and laughing streaks under the covers. i want lips on my neck. I want love in my veins. I need someone..

I fear:
-not being able to give
-being all of a sudden ordinary
-the hours when i’m not with her
-not being enough
-losing her
-the letting go part
-for when she discovers I’m nothing but a skeleton
-a lack of purpose
-exploiting my weaknesses
-the contradicting thoughts that occupy my head some nights
-abandonment
-being anything less than worthy of her love
-being a no one
-being too big for my body

Sometimes, I escape into a fake place of mind, where for some reason, I associate flying with freedom. but that;s for the birds because if they could speak, I think they’d scream, “Please Father! Let me rest on this earth!” “ Let me rip off my wings and rest like the people do!” and they’d try to let themselves plummet to the ground, but God would catch them with a breath of wind from his lungs, and their wings would catch onto it and they’d be frozen, floating and immaculate, gliding forever. Yet, i sit wishing that I could glide off this earth and take her with me so her feet would never have to touch this wretched dirt anymore.
sometimes, I escape into a fake place in my mind, where, for any reason, I associate flying with freedom. but when solace finds me and looks me in the face to give me my wings, I will scream and cry and gouge out my eyes. because I will not surrender my soul to a place that I am questioning and gives me starry mirror as an answer. to a place where birds are forever doomed to a life of being tired. Just let me escape into that fake place, where for every reason, flying is freedom and where the birds can rest, or please just let me drown.

eventually, we will find out that we did not take enough pictures to last those six months…
we will discover that exhausting those few that we had together will hurt a little more than not taking any.
when we've fought enough over words that could not be resolved over airwaves one hundred miles apart, and could have been stopped from rolling off your tongue by taking them into mine and when the comfort of passion can calm my nerves is when the pictures will mean something again.
the exhaustion of memories is driving us to meaningless pieces of earth dust and it's polluting our fire souls to the precipice of insanity.

If my brain bled visible colors in an outwardly tangible spectrum, they’d be dampened maroons and lifeless oranges. They’d drip like pools of broken glass built for thoughtless reflections and a trivial life question based on why my lungs want the oxygen so bad...

sitting in the backseat watching their love.
pure,
clean,
together.
I stared into the stars and they stared at the road or at each other.
the Lumineers CD,
I wanted to sing along but
I didn’t want to sever the thread of silence and comfort tying them together.
As I watched her lean and put her head on his shoulder and he put his hand on her arm
I realized I missed R so much more than what I thought.
I wanted what they have.
Presence.
what a gift… taken for granted most times I think.
I laughed a little to myself when we were on the freeway and knowing that I was
fifteen minutes from your house and my heart
knew that we couldn’t stop.
I stared at the infinity wishing it could be as little as the space
they had between them in the driver’s and the passenger's seat
so when her and I kissed into infinity we could be together.
Sunsets can only be so long when you’re alone and in love. I’m reminded
of that almost every night.
and then her letter came.
I cried and held it and read it like the treasure it is and imagined what it’d be like to be
next to her sleeping and our cat
meowing like crazy because she sure as hell is not going to feed it.