the week is nearly over. again.
and it feels like rain on skin in the heat of summer, raising goosebumps in spite of its warmth.
i never want anything to end.
not even nightmares.
i drag them out carefully, tossing and turning, roasting, like a pig, in my own cold sweat.
i had one every night this week. sometimes two. and i remember. i don’t keep tabs on my subconsiousness because it scares me. the brutality of the mind always scares me. and i dream of death. of death and failure.
y flores. flores para los muertos.
right now, my world is a house made of paper: cards with pretty scribbles on them, where blanche‘s words i lived in a house where dying old women remembered their dead men have more than substance; they have depth to go on and on, revolving in my head.
i’ve seen them from every angle. i swear.
what is it with death?
i’ve always said i have to die before the one i love. i couldn’t stand life otherwise. and i’ve made you promise you won’t die before me. i’ve made you promise me the unthinkable, the unpredictable, the unpromisable.
i did it just because sometimes i just need to know that you won’t die.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged again, always, ange, anything, because, before, blanche du bois, brutality, card, cards, carefully, cold, dead, death, did, die, drag, dream, dying, end, even, every, failure, feel, feels, flores, goosebumps, have, head, heat, house, is, it, just, keep, know, life, like, live, love, made, me, men, mind, more, my, nearly, need, never, night, nightmares, not, now, on, one, otherwise, out, over, own, paper, para, pig, promise, prose, rain, raise, remember, remembered, revolve, right, scare, scribbles, seen, skin, sometimes, spite, stand, subconsiousness, substance, summer, swear, sweat, tabs, the, their, them, they, this, to, toss, turn, two, unpredictable, unpromisable, unthinkable, want, warmth, week, what, where, women, won't, words, world, you
i don’t like things when they get too serious. then all the fun is gone and we are left with feelings that are solidified into blocks of ice no burning passion could ever melt. it’s like having too much of a good thing and trembling over it. we don’t need it and there’s no use to being scared of loneliness. it’s everpresent.
estamos todos solos.
and darling, i don’t want to hear the truth. just laying in your arms, in your pool of warmth, that is enough.
mi corazon, mi corazon
no me digas la verdad.
you say you are fragile. have you seen me falling to pieces like meteorite crashing into the earth’s atmosphere?
you are scared of my abundance. you fell in love with it remeber?
and you tell me not to change, no, you can do whatever you want. i trust you. i don’t doubt it or you but those words of yours replay in my mind and i realise: we’ve both been selfish.
selfish in sharing everything but not enough, in loving too much but sparsely, of showing feeling with ardour but without sparks. we’re guilty, amour. and i know it by the look in your eyes when i mention his name. S. snake in the long green grass.
english boy’s anonimity wavered i don’t care for that pursuit any more. it is dull to talk of him now, but S is good.
we see each other every day.
there is no puns or pokerfaces, just sordid fantasies of everyone involved.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged abundance, amour, anonimity, ardour, atmosphere, being, boy, care, change, corazon, crashing, darling, day, digas, don't, doubt, dull, each, earth's, english, enough, estamos, ever, everpresent, every, everyone, everything, eyes, falling, fantasies, feeling, feelings, fell, fragile, fun, gone, good, grass, green, guilty, having, hear, his, in love, into, involved, it, just, know, left, like, loneliness, long, look, loving, melt, mention, meteorite, mi, mind, more, much, name, need, no, not, of, other, over, passion, pieces, pokerfaces, puns, pursuit, realise, remember, replay, s, say, scared, see, seen, selfish, serious, sharing, showing, snake, solidifi, solos, sordid, sparks, sparsely, talk, there's, thing, things, those, todos, too, trembling, trust, truth, use, verdad, want, wavered, we, whatever, with, without, words, you, your, yours
half my life, i’m freefalling, the other half – looking back on the sights i’ve seen in those few moments before my parachute opened, before the maddening rush of adrenaline was curbed by my safety net, the soft fabric above me saving me.
you are that fabric – the fabric of my life spun by the yarn of your love, by the generosity of those hands turning the spindle.
all because you feel responsible for me. or maybe not.
in the end, my life’s my life: a merger of past faces, names, soft hands that once caressed my skin or longed to do so.
and you.
the thread of you’s the thread of me. and i want everyone you know to love me, unbearably, exquisitely so that you know the worth of love. so that you can count broken smiles knowing something inside them breaks for me.
an only child, i knew how to be painfully selfish. i learnt it well, my only teacher – solitude and parents’ love. but here i am, sister in tow, and still that only child rhetoric lives on in me. so once in a while, i feel in need of broken dreams of others to see my hope reflected in those pieces of looking-glass.
and if you can’t blame me who can blame me?
my friend once told me i was cruel to boys, to men, male counterparts. that i was cruel because my skattered gazes never solidified, my touch was soft but vapid, my hands gentle but uncaring. so what? i said it’s my revenge.
and so it is.
as sweet as lemon sorbet melting on my lips.
Posted in chapters of my life
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glittering soot on her eyelashes 
