Aug 2014
Almost seventy million people are enabled in some way to speak in sign. Nearly half of the entire human race, while speaking, uses hand motions to fulfill the full meaning of the point they are trying to get across. My whole life, I have never known where to put my hands. My whole life, I've been told I need to open my mouth and speak but it was always after the fight when my pen hit the paper that I could find the words to say. It's always taken me until it was too late to come up with a solution to mend what's been broken.
We hadn't spoken in nearly three weeks but, when she called to tell me about the run in she had with you, I knew you shed tears and it made me cry too. We hadn't spoken in nearly three weeks but, I hear the shakiness in your voice. How? Because I hear it I'm my own. I answered the phone a day ago and over my breath, you spoke and over your voice, I listened. It wasn't until after you'd hung up that I told you if ever we should say goodbye, it will only be with words because words are something you can say and I can write but, together, there is an "us" in everything we see. Making it clear to each other that this is goodbye would mean nothing when the whole world is one to the other.
It'll be years before we realize that we are all universes within ourselves. And that the sky above us, the ground below us, those are the walls that imprison us, only allowing our embers to shine for a matter of hours. But it's kind of beautiful, isn't it? The way that our stars seem to be the brightest objects in the world when all the rest of the earth goes black, when the sun is shut out for the night. We are all walking solar panels. Years before I realize that you are a universe and I should have appreciated how lucky I was to have landed you.
It'll be years and we will still have hands, whether they are chained behind your back, it'll be years and we will still have thoughts and some will still go unsaid. It's beautiful and it's blue, the way we all carry this soul clenching hope that things will eventually get better in order to be so scared of missing them so much.
For years, I had been meaning to ask if you'd look back on me fondly even though my lines were never straight, even though my image was never a reflection and my complexion is plain. Would you still look up to me even though I am a mess? A mess made from a head of hair that ends up in handfuls in the bathroom garbage because age, that's what it does to you. A mess made from love because loving yourself a little less because you're loving someone else a lot more, does a wonder. A mess made from the **** your mother never told you or something your father said right before he left but, the truth is, each heart is just a trash can and our hands pull everything we love, hate, yearn for or cry over, in for a kiss. A kiss that eventually opens up, swallowing down spoonfuls of feelings that were wonderful when felt, not choked on.
It's simple you see, we are all something simple. We are all made from a mess, a mess that only one other can clean, a mess that one just as lost, just as found, just as ***** as you; A mess that only "The" one, can add to.
It had been years now, from the day I dove off the edge of the earth with nothing but the end to catch me. And for years to come, I will be in love with the idea that I will be falling for a lifetime.
-S. Mia
August 18,2014
We hadn't spoken in nearly three weeks but, when she called to tell me about the run in she had with you, I knew you shed tears and it made me cry too. We hadn't spoken in nearly three weeks but, I hear the shakiness in your voice. How? Because I hear it I'm my own. I answered the phone a day ago and over my breath, you spoke and over your voice, I listened. It wasn't until after you'd hung up that I told you if ever we should say goodbye, it will only be with words because words are something you can say and I can write but, together, there is an "us" in everything we see. Making it clear to each other that this is goodbye would mean nothing when the whole world is one to the other.
It'll be years before we realize that we are all universes within ourselves. And that the sky above us, the ground below us, those are the walls that imprison us, only allowing our embers to shine for a matter of hours. But it's kind of beautiful, isn't it? The way that our stars seem to be the brightest objects in the world when all the rest of the earth goes black, when the sun is shut out for the night. We are all walking solar panels. Years before I realize that you are a universe and I should have appreciated how lucky I was to have landed you.
It'll be years and we will still have hands, whether they are chained behind your back, it'll be years and we will still have thoughts and some will still go unsaid. It's beautiful and it's blue, the way we all carry this soul clenching hope that things will eventually get better in order to be so scared of missing them so much.
For years, I had been meaning to ask if you'd look back on me fondly even though my lines were never straight, even though my image was never a reflection and my complexion is plain. Would you still look up to me even though I am a mess? A mess made from a head of hair that ends up in handfuls in the bathroom garbage because age, that's what it does to you. A mess made from love because loving yourself a little less because you're loving someone else a lot more, does a wonder. A mess made from the **** your mother never told you or something your father said right before he left but, the truth is, each heart is just a trash can and our hands pull everything we love, hate, yearn for or cry over, in for a kiss. A kiss that eventually opens up, swallowing down spoonfuls of feelings that were wonderful when felt, not choked on.
It's simple you see, we are all something simple. We are all made from a mess, a mess that only one other can clean, a mess that one just as lost, just as found, just as ***** as you; A mess that only "The" one, can add to.
It had been years now, from the day I dove off the edge of the earth with nothing but the end to catch me. And for years to come, I will be in love with the idea that I will be falling for a lifetime.
-S. Mia
August 18,2014
