tiredcas
human. fear, anger, pride. envy, joy, defeat- how i felt about you. holding hands at a quarter after two (am), getting drunk on cheap wine, the chill of early morning air, listening to your heart beat, solid, through your shirt. human.
age five, glitter hair ties and books of my own;
age nine, a change in uniform, hair long enough to put into a braid;
age thirteen, getting acquainted with blood on my clothes, trying desperately to fit in;
age fifteen, noticing the stares, uncomfortable in my own skin;
age eighteen, striding into college lectures and collapsing in tears on my bathroom floor.
age twenty, rapidly approaching, hopes to grow to unashamed, confident, alive
when i was three, i watched a documentary on sharks, and for years after, i wouldnt let my father swim in the ocean. i doubt I remembered much about what i watched, only vicious jaws and unsuspecting swimmers, surfboards ripped in two,dead eyed underwater footage of seawater turning red.
i watched a documentary on alcoholism last week. know your enemy and all that. and i couldn't help but wonder at the mediocrity of the decent into hell. no flashing teeth, no torn limbs. only lapping waves, softly swallowing him as he gasps for air. soon, a blood-splattered bottle will make its way to shore.
his limbs, long.
eyes, dark.
brown hair, eyes skin, glowing
chin raised in a challenge. lips a twisted smirk.
stubble grazing stomach panes as his head slides downwards-
again.
you breathe life into everything you touch. daffodils sprout from the pavement, vines grow clinging to fire escape rails, drawling laughter from my reluctant lips. you hold my hand, and where we touch, i am excited, for once in my life, about my own future. and in turn, you look at me, suddenly serious, eyes dark, demeanour calm, a reflection of who i can sometimes be. and we stand, in sync, me brimming over with love, you at peace with the idea of us, just us, together
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