It’s Been A Long Time, My Love.
I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye so often. There is no love that can keep me rested enough. The discontent grows and itches, it expands and I can read the stretchmarks like braille. Like the age of a tree trunk. Like if I sawed him in half, he would look like a timeline I could play with a record player. His grooves would run deep but his noise would play with a shallow sound. That’s what scares me the most, I think. That we can have felt and experienced so much, and exist, only to be too incompetent to comprehend ourselves fully. There is no way we can claim to love others any better than how we treat ourselves.
Most Intellects Do Not Believe In God, But They Fear Us Just The Same.
I divorced god and ended up with the house and the car. We didn’t get a prenup so we had to decide how to split everything down to the hair follicles he placed in my scalp. He decided he’d let me keep those too.
We never had kids and I wondered if there wasn’t always a molecule he placed in me that knew we wouldn’t be together long enough for it to happen. I will raise beautiful sons and daughters, they will just learn what it’s like to be answered to. Most importantly, they will know what their names sound like in the mouth of someone who loves them unconditionally.
I told him never to contact me again to try to gain some sort of control, I’m sure. I am free falling to a solid ground that he has placed under me, at least if I show anger I can pretend that ground is mine. I can make peace with the dirt and learn to love my impending doom.
Elements Are Born From Imagination.
When I turned three, I scorched my carpet with the anger in my bare hands because I saw my mother cry. If fire runs through my veins then gasoline is laced in the air. I had never seen something destroy so quickly before. I tried not to feel that much ever again.
When I turned fifteen, I thought I fell in love and accidentally winded him when I walked away because his impatience called me names I didn’t like. I didn’t know I had so much power in the mere shift of my body. He never called me again.
When I blew out twenty-one candles on my birthday, I froze the flames into icicles and made the room silent with fear. My family never brings it up, but I wish they wouldn’t talk to me like I was so different. I don’t think I’ll ever get that back again.
When I turned fifty-six I decided that I would become one with the dirt that feeds this earth one day. The calm in accepting that has never felt so freeing or so bold. The trees bend their trees to reach me whenever I walk past them. I hope they are not hard to befriend.
I am coffee: imported, brewed, smacked between the lips of his morning routine. Me. Woman. This skin.
I am cocoa: sweetened, lightened with milk and the marketization of a whiter name. Me. Woman. This name.
Heir to a throne that has been abandoned by war and infested with the enemies ideologies. Me. Woman. This amnesia.
I can’t remember who I am. I am still to busy coughing out who think I am and who I am supposed to be in this body that you are trying smoke me out of and then pretend to save me from.
You Are Only What You Think You Are Worth.
If you love someone who makes you feel lonely when they hold you - run. Pack your things, do not speak another word - go. You are loving a hollow body, an empty treasure chest, an abandoned house. I’m sorry the pain makes you feel good, I’m sorry. I’m sorry it hurts like you deserve it, I know what that’s like. But darling, you don’t deserve to be trapped into a life that only has you as a haunting. You don’t deserve to have someone feeding off your soul. If you feel weaker and weaker, it’s because the life is draining out of you. You will slowly become a beautiful porcelain casing, for the sheer purpose of display. You are worth thirty years of laughter, four thousand tears of joy and twenty-six octaves. Do not settle for anyone who does not show you that.
Lightening Doesn’t Ask Permission Before It Strikes.
My soul is exhausted. I can’t tell if that makes me numb or if it is disillusioned with a denial that everything is okay.
I would rather watch an execution than help a revolution erupt from my bare hands. I’d rather the right ones die than the ones who are responsible for bloodshed because we are to uniformed for that to matter. Don’t forget to wear your star today. Don’t forget to wear your crescent moon.
She told me once that she wanted her car to drive straight into the concrete. For that bus to hit her so she could feel something without being responsible for it. I told her that only when we let go of fate will we feel the universe - and that hits us hard enough to tremor our beings.
You are nature. Remember that. Remember that a hurricane releases more energy than all the world’s nuclear weapons combined. You will win this war if you wanted to.
Things Aliens Have Discovered.
They read often because they forget so fast,
They record the wrong histories and then make everyone believe it,
even their own.
The important ones speak in a language called fallacies,
They can cry over people they have never met,
But don’t know how to feel about the people they do.
They like pretending to be other things,
They have invisible rules that everyone follows,
They do not care about being the reason for their own demise.
I got 99 problems but a [sic] ain’t one.
It will rain and I will watch the way the candle undresses all day because it is mesmerizing the way something can die so beautifully.
The Ones Who Join Us In Life Aren’t Always Here To Stay. That Doesn’t Mean They Don’t Leave Marks That Stay Forever.
He told me I had too much anger,
I told him not all of us are born from fire.
He told me that not all flames had to burn so fiercely,
And if I could please consider dying out just a little.
Candles burn beautifully too, with a guidance,
He whispered gently.
But I am not a burning house with civilians screaming inside,
I am not malicious.
I am not the product of a gas station,
And car static; I am not an accident.
I am purpose, I am burning to heal,
Like a wildfire helps the earth breathe again.
So I told him he had too much breath,
And oxygen is what feeds licks of fire into flamethrowers.
And we could make it, I could hold his hand,
And if he could please consider dying out just a little bit too