/from the vault | “exile”/
I lived my whole life trying to run away from my romantic self. Being a romantic kept me soft, which is not a suitable state to be in when your road is as rocky as the calluses on his hands.
But if I’m on my way out of the door, I will again be that sad little hopeless romantic. I will give myself the rare permission to romanticize this pain and to rage it all out. Such a ridiculous, embarrassing storyline, but there is no real way other than to think of us as a movie of a lifetime.
Sun goes up at 4 in the morning that late summer, clouds muddy with my melancholy, and your cigarette smoke blurs my logical sense. Weird ambiance in the background, meta and comical. I will again let myself be the truest, moodiest, most vulnerable, sad romantic girl ever.
When I said I hate you, I meant
When I laughed at your face, I meant
When I said I would be just fine, I meant
When I wept on your shoulder, I meant
When I made the worst jokes, I meant
When I stared at your skin for so long to learn its pattern and texture, I meant
When I touched your neck with my AC-dried lips, I meant
When I let you touch my face I almost burst into a violently painful cry, I meant
When you said you had never connected with anyone like this ever before, I just looked away, I meant
When you said you don’t think this is the end and I chuckled, I meant
When you went to the beach that one time, I meant
When you said you want to take care of me with all your given power and I tilted my head into yours and closed my eyes, I meant
When I saw your face after I dried your clothes and I went to heat up dinner, I meant
When I fell so hard I could barely bear the idea of having to leave but my whole life I have been a pro at leaving, I stayed and let my heart crumble into forever melted ice, I meant
When I cried until morning, this fall and last fall and all the other falls there are in the world, one long coma, I meant
When the lost poems still cut me deep to the bone, I meant
When I asked all the why questions and burned them into ashes and specks of dust, I meant
When I knew it was the end for my heart, yet the stars the moon and the sea were still the same colors, I meant
I am a romantic at heart, and with the worst timing ever, you accidentally hold a vast, endless, lush field of safety and love for me to unravel my knotted, overcomplicated, raged, and full-range emotional garbage and baggage in an unbelievably healthy and gorgeously built way so that I can somehow on my unthinkable path of forming a better, more compassionate relationship with all the hidden and unmet parts of my restrained self.
I am a romantic at heart, and the act of loving in patience and grace slowly derailed into sacrificial death, self-sabotage, self-depreciation, shouting and screaming into a void, the sound of my desperate weeping just became numb to my ear. All the hidden and unmet parts of my restrained self.
Jump straight off your mountain and bury me in that small dune at sea with the untouchable past and future.
Yorumlar