katmw8
My arms beat at the shapes of clothing
Ripping and tearing and darkening
Spraying false years on.
Songs and silences cannot convey all
But with the visual representations of your fears
Your hardships
And your hunger
The greyscale story tells itself
Is this the end
Of late nights together
Of silly faces and held hands
Of noses buried in shoulders
Of zombie flicks and first kisses
Of hair petting and hand rubbing
Of thumb stroking and footsie playing
Of you
And of me
And of us
You are the roof over my head
My shelter from my storm.
Beneath you, I find
Home.
The place of love and comfort.
I gaze up toward your expanses in the
Thought-filled moments before sleep takes over
Thanking you
For keeping me safe.
From the depths of the black ocean
You propel me
An accendio that brings me to burst
Into the air
Air crushing through the emptiness of my lungs.
I don't know which makes me feel
Higher.
The sudden oxygen or
Your boost.
We are paint and brush
Tree and leaf (or pines?)
Cut and blood
Heart and love
In love
The both of us reaching for each other.
When you reach your arms around me
To whisper in my ear
I will not object.
When you pick up my arm
And weave your fingers through mine
I will not object.
When you look at me from across the room
Unapologetic and adoring
I will not object.
Your attention is what I live for.
The wind blows,
My hands left empty,
Cold in the chilly breeze.
I watch as you walk away and I wish
That you would return
So that I could accept your offer.
Walking through the Square after the worst concert either of us had ever been to, I realized the importance of a companion who could turn something dreadful into one of the most enjoyable nights of your life.
Look how late it is
With our sun high in the sky
Shadows shrunken,
Small circles beneath our feet.
We laugh at the night
For thinking that it could darken
The light that we share.
If my life were a hall
Dark and creepy
Long and thin
Filled with the possibility of
Monsters and ghosts
With creaky doors opening to
Different eras of
Me
You
Would be the light
At the end
That I fumble toward.
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writing since 2010 · 49 entries · 49 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Kathryn showed up.
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the words Kathryn reaches for
wishlovehurtpainskinbladesickblackdarkmissedwordsescapebetteremptinessbloodcut