When I touch your skin
I’m reaching for what’s underneath, I’m reaching for Saturday mornings and breakfast in bed and dancing in our underwear, I’m reaching for a hand that will hold mine when I start to drown, the one that will steal the last bite of pancakes off my plate, the one that will untangle my hair; and
When I kiss your scars
I’m kissing the boy who spent every day of 6th grade eating lunch alone, and the one who had to spill vodka from half-empty bottles down the drain every night before bed long before he was old enough to drink, I’m kissing him, the one who found solace in The Smiths and foreign movies, the one who fought but sometimes still lost, sometimes still cut the skin I’m kissing;
When I whisper in your ear
That I love you - over and over again, it is not merely love I am trying to convey, I’m trying to teach your ears that they can hear softness too, that they can hear good, I am trying to teach them to listen to the world, the parts that want to give love, that want to tell you how special you are - listen, the stars are whispering your name, the wind is their messenger, listen - I love you, I love you, I love you; and
When I dig my nails into your flesh
I am begging you to stay, I’m telling you a story of a girl who spent half her life waiting - in hospital rooms and at airports and hotel lobbies, in front of schools in foreign cities, I am begging you to stay, to be the first person to ever be there, to just stay;
I want to tell you,
But instead I whisper I love you, as I hold on to your flesh and I hope, beyond all reason that your skin will understand."
happened. You just stopped. There were
no more phone calls in the middle of the
night when you couldn’t sleep, no more
texts that read, “I miss you.” The only time
you said I was beautiful, was when I asked
if I was. It’s not that I needed your validation,
I just missed hearing it. When you answered
the phone your voice sounded dull, the excuses
were, “I’m tired.” “I don’t feel well.” I never
knew the right words to say until after the
conversation ended, my talking just felt like
crunching leaves under your feet. You’d walk
over me subconsciously, I felt like I was the
gum on the bottom of your shoe. You’d get
rid of me faster than you’d let me stay.
I always held on a little too tight, a little too
long, I guess I was just waiting for the favor
to be returned. But your arms became
cemented to your sides, like walls around
your soul. I became the vines growing up
the bricks, trying to be tall enough to get a
peek of what’s behind them. I never was
tall enough, I never was good enough.
Soon enough the I love you’s just slipped
your mind, you forgot. I stopped noticing
how long it took you to reply, it became
our new normal. The nights we went without
talking, the mornings that went without the
good, the days we talked for five minutes, it
was all normal. You stopped. So, I’ll stop.
Or at least, I’ll try.."
“How are you only seventeen?” They said,
“how are you so young but have all this
going on in your head?”
I don’t know,
I really don’t. I can’t explain
to you why I think death is the answer to
my problem, I can’t tell you why I think
soul mates exists because when I met
him it made me believe in something,
and fuck, isn’t that better than nothing?
I can’t speak about the scars on my thighs
because each one of them, according to
you were caused by lies, the lies that I told
myself, that I was too ugly, too fat, too dumb.
I still don’t see them as lies, because god
damn you don’t see myself through my eyes.
I won’t open up to you about how he ripped a
piece of my being away from me that night,
and no, I won’t open up about how every
evening there’s a fight. I will maybe tell you
about my mother, and how she thinks I am
crazy, and strange. I could never tell you face
to face about my suicide attempt, and how
I had it arranged. I won’t talk to you about
anything, nothing, not even over a phone
call. You’ll have to read my writing,
because trust me, it explains it all.
why I saw shipwrecks in her smile. She was the type
of girl that slipped out of your fingers like sand,
especially when you tried to hold on too tight, she
didn’t like being too close. She’d crash into men like
the waves crashed into rocks, she thought she would
find herself in them but she never did. I told her she
already had something. I told her that the emotions
she held inside her were gifts to be written and given,
but instead she swallowed pills that took them away.
She asked me if I believed in heaven and I said yes,
and followed it with a don’t go without me. She shook
away the smile on her face and said one day she’d meet
me between the sea and the sun, I didn’t understand
what the hell she meant so I just said okay. It wasn’t
until the next day I called her in the morning and got no
answer, no answer, no answer.
The last time I caught a glimpse of her was when I set
her ashes free, between the sun and the sea. Where
she wanted to be."
Two months into our relationship you once asked me how much I loved you and I just said “From here”. You didn’t get it and you got mad and thought I was playing around.
Breaking up after almost two years together, I sent you a message 6 months later saying “To Here”.
You still didn’t get it.
this hit me hard