I spent all night with you even though there is not much to show for it yet. Pulling myself out of boxes instead of packing.
There is a lot I want to explain about how I got here. How my toes on the brink led to my full body centered and on display. How understanding myself helped me understand you. The threads are bare beneath my shadow. They need a little more time to regenerate.
Your mix has me floating in pools, sun burnt and glistening. I almost picked some of the same songs, which made me smile. As I listened I sucked on salted chocolate and I took breaks to watch pieces of secretary. It is beautiful how honesty begets acceptance, creating a glowing ground for love. You know about luminescence, tell me what tools to bring. A typewriter or a fist full of red sharpies?
I’m feeling inquisitive and afraid to explode without permission. Because, one shard is all it used to take to turn you away.
smooth is boring. A rusty nail takes longer to push through and scrapes away everything that is weak and going to fall off anyway. Sounds like a heavenly clash of flaws. Streams unified and flowing to come.
I’m getting tired of the whim of weather. A few days ago I was barefoot on pavement wearing a red checkered skirt, flaunting my haircut, thriving on the attention of the skeevy little ballers that pass our building. Now I need boots to take a walk, but I already packed them.
It is hard to think when your feet are cold.
I am in draft today. Scattered. Flicking my tongue without tasting. Searching for a wave to catch. Impatient for the rain to trigger the muted scenes in my head to a fucking color I can paint with. I crave a leathery thud of breakdown so I am forced to reorganize my insides. I crave a loss of control.
The healing, even though it has only just begun, has left me bare, reconstructing, unbearably clean. A tree picked of her bark, rightly with no ability to produce glue.
Don’t worry about me if I sound a little crazy. I get sad sometimes for no reason at all.
I’m not sure what happens now either. There is a newness, a tantalizing playfulness without undertow. The power of you, once swept aside, is pooling in at my sides. Rising through me like high tide. I’m soaking at the mouth of a river, and your lips give me hope.
I want you to put me in position in the worst way.
Yes, I do have that touch, but I am done crashing through doors. Instead I will rest on my knees at the edge of entrance, devoted, mind continuously spinning. To pass the time I will tend to the flowers at my feet and lick the dirt off of my skin. When you open the door, you’ll have something pure and fertile to pet.
We talked about you in the car tonight and it gave me butterflies, because this new relationship I might have with you is also a new relationship with her. We agreed you play a brave character and gave you a new name. Michigan. Not sexy, but factual and indifferent to the past.
I used to need you to rearrange history, and that’s probably an understatement. To right wrongs of both our doing. To move above pace. To apologize for my parted ego. Now I just need you to believe what you’re dreaming. To enjoy the movement. How the rain just drops, slipping in coves, covering rock.
These nights tend to dissolve, usually rusting right down to the bone. Snuffed out when one of us has confessed that which cannot face the light. But this time is already different for me. I don’t feel like I am limping back into a forest again to lost. I can freely admit the ride I want to mount.
I like the dirty taste in my mouth from crawling on this floor. I need you, because I want more.