pools of life fall around my waist and creep down my legs until they are puddles i dive into full force. i heal myself with wading in its mystique and if i could survive with filling my lungs in this, you would know my next move.
i could inhale your fear and exhale beauty onto your skin, seeping into your pores.
nerve endings within my fingers take in too much and i become numb. the knives that carved your arm are the same ones that consequently carve into my soul. if i could make you feel happiness again, would you let it happen?
i question the dark but nonetheless, i let it fall over me, let it encompass me. i soak up the secrets that only the willing can find.
i curled up at the edge of your bed praying for sleep. i cried out into silence and was answered with such. you turn your back and face someone else, something better. blankets now hold barriers within, and i place my hand on the mattress as if a familiar shape will be found. im greeted by just dense cloth, and sometimes, i suffocate in open fields.
i want to feel your arms grasping my lower waist again, moving up and around my back and grasping my shoulders just tight enough to make me feel complete.
i've always been the miss-er. nostalgia gives me a beating far larger than any pair of fists could. the one thing that keeps me going is a future that will turn into more fodder for my memory. it's a vicious cycle, but an enticing one at that. i think i'll take my chances having the present filled with uneasiness in a knowledge that soon enough, i'll be whole again. like i have so many times before. even for just a moment. my pieces break and mend with the fall and rise of the tides. the processes of them breaking and mending time and time again are the most exciting and moments that i would never erase for anything. no matter how desperate or content i may be.
my toes in the sand, the skin up to my ankles damp and cold from the peaceful waves. the sunset is long gone, but the complete darkness ahead is almost comforting. i want to bathe a new life in the ocean, but timidness keeps me at bay.
i look up at the sky and imagine letters spelt out in the stars. the words are incoherent, but i try to make sense of it anyway. i spin around and the dots become beams of light, and right before i fall to the ground laughing in its most innocent form, i breathe in real deep. i almost choke on the purity, but exhale the past and once again, i am new.