Tag Archives: losing

80. this once, its more than enough

bonne anniversaire!

i like the way it rings, reverbrating from the eardrums straight into the heart. it’s been a year.
and i don’t know how to feel, i just feel the need to thank you for the knowledge that someone in the world matters more than the world itself. je t’adore. and i’m not joking. sometimes, not too often, i catch myself pause in the middle of the sentence when i look at you because thoughts that flush into my head like tapwater into a blocked sink.

i’d say remember, but you do. every word i say. you’re magic, you hear me? maybe. telekenisis? unlikely. but know, if you do, that though you’re not here but somewhere else, my feeling never wanes. artificial flowers never wilt; real emotion never dies. sometimes it just recedes to the back of the mind. like magic.

you gave me the rosary beads from your first communion as a gift this morning. placed it along with your card on my porch. and i swear, i didn’t know what to do. it seemed like so much. a universe of you in my palm. 
and i couldn’t wait to ask you about the meaning, though i knew. and you knew that i do. it’s a game we play because neither of us likes losing.

it’s a symbol that i’m ready to learn about it with you. and i can’t be sure that’s exactly what you said, but that’s what i heard.

and i’m stuck for words, but i sit here clutching at metal and plastic made to look like glass in silence and i know wherever i go, you’ll follow.
sometimes emotion is enough to fill the silence. this once, its more than enough.


42. wronged love

and we can’t even fight properly.

have we lost that ability or did we never have it in the first place?
and our mean words are pebbles, small, insignificant; each hit a vague pain somewhere in the nether regions of the heart, but tell me, is our love not strong enough for boulders to be flying, for pain to be immense, almost insufferable? 

I want to
lie down somewhere and suffer for love until
it nearly kills me

i want it to take the whole of me. i want to have no mercy and recieve no mercy back.

and every time we fight, sparks fly but the fire never ignites.
and every time we fight, there is no anger, just sadness, scaring us into oblivion with the thoughts of losing each other. the notion of how life would be if we were apart, different people loving us, needing us, prepared to die for us; breaking hearts.

yesterday everyone found out about us.
i didn’t like that and we fought, fear eveloping us like misty green haze of jealousy.

and there was no anger, only wronged love.