We lay here in the mist this morning, and there’s dew drops collecting on my skin, almost as if the sky had cried itself to sleep. Only the sounds of the crickets, and our lips meeting, penetrate the stillness in the air. The atmosphere seems to thicken with our love as the seconds tick by. The feeling of your skin underneath my fingertips invokes a calmness inside me, with you, all is well.
These moments last lifetimes, and then they’re gone.
I’m alone in this darkness, without a single star freckling the sky. The chirps and croaks from the night creatures only echo throughout my alone-ness now, shattering the “I’m okay” facade. My calmness is replaced with unrest and the atmosphere becomes thinner. The only skin under my fingertips is the skin stretched across my ribcage as I attempt to rip both lungs from my chest.
And the dew drops that rest in my hands are not the sky’s tears, but my own.
sometimes i wonder how the earth could stay so still while its spinning around on an invisible axis. i spin around and all my insides rise like yeast in an oven, a sickly burning up my throat and out onto the ground.
if you were here, you’d still this restlessness somehow.
but instead you’ve got me trying to pry my bones apart and tear you out from underneath my skin. i was wandering through the paint store, and i found a colour that was exactly the colour of you. i grabbed a fistful and walked out and sat in my car ripping them all into the tiniest shreds i could.
one of the shreds cut my finger, and i didn’t feel anything until it started to leak red over my skirt. it mixed with tears and i just sat there. fuck, i must’ve looked pathetic, bleeding and sobbing and covered in a pile of torn up paint samples.
It only takes that one instant for my mind to race to the memories, the blade on my skin, your searching fingertips. I start the engine. Maybe if I drive fast enough, I can leave behind my inexplicable fondness for you behind, and let those memories fly out the window.
But I know better. It never did matter how far apart we were, it only takes one late night and an impulse text message to destroy the not-so-peaceful stillness that settles between us in-between shouting matches. I’ve always hated your indifference to everything. Even as you read the messages filled with hate and anger and frustration, sent to you with tears in my eyes and blood leaking from my wrists, you can only manage to reply with an “Oh”.
I suppose it’s all there in black and white, in-between lines. Finally, I type my goodbye with shaking hands, my eyes burning from the LCD light, skin crawling away from the memories that flood my every thought. If you understood, if you knew what I have had to live through, and knew that it was because of you, I wonder how could you live with yourself? You’d find a way, you have for this long.
It became about you, not me. You needed to protection from the consequences, and like the fool you turned me into, I allowed you to have it. It’s not about me, it never was.
But god dammit, you stupid boy, don’t you comprehend the weight of what you’ve done? The effects of it are right in front of your eyes, a thigh gap, a ribcage…a broken body covered in battle scars. I find it rather appropriate that I have damaged shell to house my shattered soul.
And when your bones break
Rest yourself in my haven
We will go on
And when the world is stolen from your eyes
Grasp me in your darkness
We will go on
And when your ears forget my voice
Follow the sound of my footsteps
We will go on
And when you feel death swimming in your veins
Breathe to me the deepest confines of your heart
I will go on
