217 my bones are paper and yours glass

i'm sick with guilt whenever my posts are dreary, i think about the people who read this and say it gives them hope or makes them smile and feel like i'm letting them down. i'm not responsible for anyone else's emotions blahblahblah but i always feel like i am.

i wrote this a long time ago, i've been debating whether or not to post it but heeeeey why not


Your collarbones are anchors keeping me here, grounded, and they are wings lifting me into light and sky and words floating around our heads. Fingers wrapped around our hearts. Our feet move with quiet deliberation to the sounds put forth by the black box across the room, and you can see the notes floating, the colors and lights are brighter with our eyes closed so we keep them that way. And we sway and we sway and the sun is jealous of my eyes for the shine in them, my knees are bruised but my cheeks glow and my heart is filled with your smiles and the ocean. Still with angels pressing my eyelids down soft, I can see the crinkles in the corner of your eyes when you laugh and the way dimples are tiny waves in the surface of the peaceful water that is your skin. Freckles like spots of the finest dirt you've ever seen or little chocolate spots on soft caramel and vanilla. My bones are paper and yours glass. I rip apart at the seams, heartwrenching and quiet and crying, and you shatter, violent and sudden and loud like someone yelling at you to get out of the way. Ribbons unravel from around my heart every time you kiss my lips or breathe on my neck but your heart stays hidden and tucked away like some treasure you're protecting from the world. All the gold coins and strings of pearl shining and luring in the girls and their lusting eyes, but you give them a glimpse and shut it back up, swallow the key. They'll never know what's at the bottom of that treasure chest but here I am leaning into you and our hearts are beating together and for a second even with my eyes closed I can see it in you, see the key and one day you'll press it into my palm and we'll both stare for a moment and then I'll open you up. Your eyes will be wide and your breath might be shallow and your hands might shake but you'll give up the hold you've had on your heart for so long and let it beat like it is supposed to, wild and free. All good things are wild and free, you told me once. And even though you disguised it expertly, I could feel the ache in your soul when you said it.

Someday ache will be gone and we'll dance and we'll sit in streets at midnight and watch the velvet in the sky with our fingers tangled together like the laces on your favorite sneakers. The wind will set fire to our cheeks and we'll dive headfirst and reckless into cool waters and watch our legs grow miles long under the surface. You'll rest on your side with your head propped on your hand as I read quietly; when I stumble over words you won't laugh. I'll watch you play your guitar and marvel at your hands; the way they move so softly across the strings like air or like clouds. Like your kisses and your fingertips.


Comments

Anonymous said…
you're human. that's why people love you. they see you have ups, you have downs, and you keep living. that's the important part.

and your writing blows mine out of the water, so i'm jealous. your metaphors are beautiful, to put it simply.
flowers said…
there is no one else quite like you





also, smile
http://www.flickr.com/photos/glc315/2109054408/

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