Falling Out.

This feels like falling out of love. The steady decline of an empire of memories. The withering of two hearts that were once conjoined. The death of our desire. 

No more. No more. No more. 

We will be no more. 

No More

Though inches away

I have no desire to take,

Your hand in mine. 

Your eyes hold none

Of the joy they used to

When you looked at me. 

Your lips pressed to mine

Feels like duty and habit

Rather than fire and ice. 

Love Lost

Things fall to pieces between us. The love we've kindled for 18 months and 2 days has shattered and left behind voids and chasms where there once was light and happiness. My growing annoyance with you and your increasing indifference to me slid a crowbar between our entwined hearts and wrenched them free of each other, or perhaps they weren't as tightly bound as we both thought they were. I think maybe we felt only our increasing dependance on each other, the intense need to feel love and be loved, to know that we are not alone in the steps we take. That there is a faithful shadow that traces our movements and approves of our every decision. One who rewards us with the carnal touch and traced fingers down the spine. Who whispers "I want you always" as they take fragile pieces of your body and mind to mend them together so we might be whole again. With whom the sound of the bed frame banging the wall and flesh slapping flesh pours out a tune of love and lust that no words can recreate. Though these moments are the only thing holding us together anymore we still create them out of habit and hope. We both know we are dying, not our bodies but our souls. The part of us that governed our desires and wishes; the part that looked into the future and saw an apartment and a white dress perhaps has shriveled and is fast succumbing to the pressures of lost feelings and the suffocating fear of being trapped. We know now that arsenic flows through our veins and cyanide poisons our kisses turning something so sweet into something so bitter. The mere pressing of lips has become a chore and we derive no pleasure from their touch, only a sense of duty and resign. Shame! Shame on us that we keep perpetuating this lie, living like the times have never been better when really we cry at night and wish we could trust one another with our secrets once more. That the demons in our head and the burdens on our shoulders might be lightened because we have shared the load. But no more. We carry our own grievances like pack mules, we saddle ourselves with our worries and every day stoop a little lower from the weight we bear. But we bear it. Because we cannot love. We cannot love each other. We cannot love each other anymore. We failed ourselves and one another. Instead of love burning fires in our chests indifference settles like a blanket. 

Anger Abounds

Imagine it's a hot summer day, the air is glimmering. Everything's just perfect, and you're laying there, facing the sun. But suddenly, a heavy humidity lays itself over this beautiful day, making it hard to breath. It's getting more and more humid, until you can barely breath. Yet somehow, you're the only one noticing it. Gasping for air you watch them laughing untroubled. Joking light-heartedly, while you're struggling to stay alive. Depression, it's like drowning - except that you can see everyone around you breathing.

Losing weight

I am GOING to lose weight. I'm going to be a fragile porcelain doll with stick legs and twig arms. A single breath could break me. I WILL be under 100 lbs. 

Mountains

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.

The Starry Sky Cried

The starry sky cried

To see her lover the earth

Desecrated so

Oh Jesus Christ

A Bird in the Sea

A bird in the sea

Couldn't feel as out of place

As someone like me