jesswaveshello
Wrapped up among blankets,
grey morning,
feet and elbows hanging off the bed
we outgrew.
Limbs entwined,
body parts,
souls.
Delightful incantations falling from your lips to the soft ground, whirling in clouded green energy, the mist, swirling above and encompassing your frame, twisting your image, turning your body to stardust so that I may carry it in my locket wherever I may go.
Everyone I've met is a part of my collection of my self. Everyone refracts, breaks down, and splinters, melts together to form me. Everything author and lover and teacher, every musician and person on the street, their parts have collected and helped me to build my own.
What is creativity, when the artistic drive outweighs the artistic ability? What is creativity when you're screaming into the mirror, because the things in your head are trapped, can't find any clear route to the pencil in your hand, the mouse under your sweating palm. How do you prove that you've got the mind, when there's no paper proof? How do you get where you need to be?
It's been manifesting in my core for some time now. Urgent, uncurbed desire. Lust dripping from my lips. Willpower slowly draining until I'm feeding off of this one drive, my personal manifesto, my word of God, coming from the pit on my stomach and into my mouth.
Intentionally causing all this pain was never part of the plan. The plan was picnics in parks, and baking together, watching films well past dark. That's never all there is though, it is so hard to have happiness without the dark, too. Intentionally or unintentionally, we've darkened each other inside.
Willfully wishing, fully wishing, the brightest of days for you. Willfully wishing means plucking petals and looking for stars and shaking magic eight balls until my hands between to tremble. Willfully wishing only the brightest skies, lover. Because that's what you need, and that what I need.
Steady and unsteady, constant ebb and flow of our tumultuous relationship. We've always been that way; as friends, at first, and then as a couple, and now as lovers. We've both felt the days of dependence verging on insanity, and days of mutual leaning, steadying ourselves on each other as we leap forward, whatever that may present us with.
And in that instant every did change. And it didn't matter if it was cliche, because you said you wanted to end it. And even through hours of snot and hyperventilating, to debilitating together beyond recognition, we decided not to end it, it still happened. For one instant. It was over. And that doesn't undo.
High aloft clouds and above freshly planted fruit trees. A bright red balloon, carrying a present. I hurriedly dig through pockets, through weeks on discarded mail, in search of the trusted golden slingshot. Pulling back in hand, I release, shooting down the once graceful balloon, and it falls into the dirt. I quickly steal my prize.
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