Mar 2014
what made it all so magical was the snow fall. with squinted eyes, you could spot each individual flake, lackadaisically trailing its brothers and sisters to the ground. they all seemed to travel together regardless. an entire world of movement, and i loved the way simon shed his coat, smiling at the wind. savoring each chilled breath.
skinned knees and reddened cheeks. fingers curled up into sleeves to prevent the kiss of the wind, and ears blushed when met with snowflakes. in this way, the easy cries of the girls, the sound of bodies hitting the packed snow, it was romantic. how the adrenaline bound us together like a drunken pack of fools.
i started to feel the dissonance, the gnawing urge that was dragging me away from the wide pleasure of the snow and companionship. fingers fumbled for damp cigarettes and eyes turned to the sky, hoping to find the answers written in the milky patterns of the clouds.
i turn and turn and turn and turn away
from this ache.
aching to smother this pull with another, something that could possibly ground me to this moment.
i always feel like i'm floating. disconnected from the words and hands and laughter that encase me.
"i only smoke spirits because they're organic."
as if the acrid curl of harsh smoke in my lungs is any easier to swallow.
i turn and turn and turn and turn and eyes draw, mouths form the scarlet color that became my identity and i pray to god that they follow. i pray to every and any deity that their palms won't lose their hold on my slipping form.
my heart murmurs in waves:
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
it's not always your job to fix the things that you broke between your hands.
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
red. red. red. red.
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
i spent six days in that hospital and do you know who called me every single night?
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
six days, and only one person called every night.
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
every. single. night.
maybe i'll disappear.
skinned knees and reddened cheeks. fingers curled up into sleeves to prevent the kiss of the wind, and ears blushed when met with snowflakes. in this way, the easy cries of the girls, the sound of bodies hitting the packed snow, it was romantic. how the adrenaline bound us together like a drunken pack of fools.
i started to feel the dissonance, the gnawing urge that was dragging me away from the wide pleasure of the snow and companionship. fingers fumbled for damp cigarettes and eyes turned to the sky, hoping to find the answers written in the milky patterns of the clouds.
i turn and turn and turn and turn away
from this ache.
aching to smother this pull with another, something that could possibly ground me to this moment.
i always feel like i'm floating. disconnected from the words and hands and laughter that encase me.
"i only smoke spirits because they're organic."
as if the acrid curl of harsh smoke in my lungs is any easier to swallow.
i turn and turn and turn and turn and eyes draw, mouths form the scarlet color that became my identity and i pray to god that they follow. i pray to every and any deity that their palms won't lose their hold on my slipping form.
my heart murmurs in waves:
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
it's not always your job to fix the things that you broke between your hands.
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
red. red. red. red.
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
i spent six days in that hospital and do you know who called me every single night?
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
six days, and only one person called every night.
if i walk far enough, maybe i'll disappear.
every. single. night.
maybe i'll disappear.
january, 2014.
