dalenawin
Paper cranes, boats and planes.
Folding them in the grass, waiting for you to finish your homework.
Mulling over the task, stalling with every fiber of your being.
And that tinkling laughter when every crane, boat and plane flies at you.
Honest assumption about your spirituality leads to conclusions of insecurity.
The way your body moves so vivid and fluently, you would think Greek gods controlled it.
And my eyes can't help to be drawn to you, like a poison.
You are my poison.
Belief is a silly word, and I've always thought that ever 'since I was young.
And then I met you and belief became a skeptical word.
I couldn't believe someone like you could actually exist.
Someone so perfect for me, it was undeniably destiny.
And who am I to turn away from that?
Wonderland of questions to ask you.
Things to find out about you.
I don't know what to ask first.
Stuttering over our conversations; tripping on verbs and adjectives.
I don't know if you thought it was cute, like you said, or funny.
Ponder.
I hate when you make me do this.
Wait at the train station for you in the middle of winter to pick you up.
Especially after you see him.
I hate him.
More than I hate how cold my fingers are.
More than I hate how long you make me wait.
More than how time passes by so slow.
More than how many cigarettes I can smoke before you get here.
And when you lie to rest.
I won't be at your funeral.
I can't bear it.
I'd be having mine soon too.
Rising up from the sheets of my bed.
Realization that you are still sleeping.
Your gentle face.
Hands curled up against your chest.
Legs still wrapped around me.
Pushed up to the corner with no way out.
Walled up, boxed in.
Cavernous redundancies.
Did you mean to push me into a corner like this?
I don't understand if I did anything wrong or if you're just abusing my love for you.
Forgetting you, I can't seem to do it.
You're the air I breathe, the blood pumping through my arteries.
You kept me alive, almost like I was connected at a life line.
Now it's disconnected, and I'm left flailing.
I can't help but to forget.
I need to forget.
But, I don't want to.
Painted memories splash my mind, the wet paint seeps through.
Splatters and speckles cover the walls, the veins of life.
Memories of you, me. I don't know if I should start a new canvas.
Maybe I should paint over them, forget about it, destroyed work.
Not sure if I want to forget or to remember.
Not sure if I want to paint this over.
Beautiful landscaped memories.
Sometimes they should just be forgotten.
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writing since 2011 · 21 entries · 20 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Dalena showed up.
6longest streak
20days written
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the words Dalena reaches for
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