Jan 2015
to the messenger of Olympus:
do you tire of never being able to speak for yourself?
does it still sting every time you are told that what you want to say isn't important?
i know what it's like; I spent years with my mouth squeezed shut, hushed into perpetual silence and forced to live a life written by someone else
but i suppose we all have our own heavy burdens
and sometimes all we can do is find comfort in other things
so Hermes, love, tell me
how incredible is it to have the world balanced on your fingertips?
do you still get a thrill from jumping across oceans and stepping over islands as easily as cracks in the sidewalk?
god, how i wish that i could do the same, that i could walk 5351.82 miles as easily as walking down the street
for i have found my comfort too
a boy who tugs on my heartstrings and my vocal chords
and even though I never had trouble swallowing my words before,
with him, it's like they can't help but leap out of my chest
so Hermes, love, is there room in your bag for just one more letter? is there time for one more stop on your delivery route?
it will be the eve of New Year's Eve and the moon should be dancing on the Thames when you arrive
i hope that he is dancing too
and if you get a chance, just please tell him this:
i miss you
i know i say it too much and too often and it doesn't change the fact that you're not beside me
but i miss you
and i'll admit that i get panicked sometimes when it's hard to picture your face and I worry that I haven't memorized it well enough
there are moments when I have to force myself to remember how your eyes have a little bit of green in them, like fresh cut grass in the spring, or how your hair always sticks up a little in the back
some days I get scared that you will forget about me
other days I call myself foolish for worrying
worst are the days when I begin to wonder if maybe it would be for the best
after all, my mother always told that too much of a good thing could be dangerous
but it seems I am much too selfish to give up the best thing that's ever happened to me
so instead i'll just look to the stars
the same ones that have already shone above you eight hours ago
and i'll pray that you can hear me wherever you are
do you tire of never being able to speak for yourself?
does it still sting every time you are told that what you want to say isn't important?
i know what it's like; I spent years with my mouth squeezed shut, hushed into perpetual silence and forced to live a life written by someone else
but i suppose we all have our own heavy burdens
and sometimes all we can do is find comfort in other things
so Hermes, love, tell me
how incredible is it to have the world balanced on your fingertips?
do you still get a thrill from jumping across oceans and stepping over islands as easily as cracks in the sidewalk?
god, how i wish that i could do the same, that i could walk 5351.82 miles as easily as walking down the street
for i have found my comfort too
a boy who tugs on my heartstrings and my vocal chords
and even though I never had trouble swallowing my words before,
with him, it's like they can't help but leap out of my chest
so Hermes, love, is there room in your bag for just one more letter? is there time for one more stop on your delivery route?
it will be the eve of New Year's Eve and the moon should be dancing on the Thames when you arrive
i hope that he is dancing too
and if you get a chance, just please tell him this:
i miss you
i know i say it too much and too often and it doesn't change the fact that you're not beside me
but i miss you
and i'll admit that i get panicked sometimes when it's hard to picture your face and I worry that I haven't memorized it well enough
there are moments when I have to force myself to remember how your eyes have a little bit of green in them, like fresh cut grass in the spring, or how your hair always sticks up a little in the back
some days I get scared that you will forget about me
other days I call myself foolish for worrying
worst are the days when I begin to wonder if maybe it would be for the best
after all, my mother always told that too much of a good thing could be dangerous
but it seems I am much too selfish to give up the best thing that's ever happened to me
so instead i'll just look to the stars
the same ones that have already shone above you eight hours ago
and i'll pray that you can hear me wherever you are
