of foolish heroes

I’m always kissing you like it’s the last time / Always hesitating, stuttering, stumbling over my words / Trying to make the moment perfect / Thinking this time it has to be perfect / Because the thought of anything less is unbearable / How do I reconcile myself to the fact that I will never have this back / This moment where the light is hitting your face just right / Where your eyes are squeezed shut and I want to hold you for just a minute longer / Stay a little while / Stay just long enough to feel like I have made the most of this precious time / I have to know that I’ve loved you right / That I’ve tried / That I’ve been stubborn and unwilling to settle for lukewarm / That I felt the weight of our lives and tried to carry them anyway / Kept the heaviest memories in my pockets like stones / Promised myself to skip them over the water later / There has to be space for more 

nowadays, i dream of warmth. of fingertips against skin, arms around a waist, of a mouth against a neck. i dream of entwined hands. of feet pressed together, of leaning against a shoulder, of hair sticking to cheeks. nowadays, i feel like a dream. insubstantial. like if you tried to place a hand on my heart, you'd fall right through. it's getting colder and i can't tell when i'll wake. i smell smoke but i can't feel a thing. if i try hard enough, i can remember what it felt like, to carry more than embers in my fists.

tell me we’ll never get used to it / that we never take our entwined hands for granted again / that we're grateful for every embrace / every meeting that isn't through a phone screen / that we dance for hours the first time we can dance with each other / cry when we can blow out candles on a cake together / hold each other's faces and say i'm glad you exist / i'm glad i met you in this life / i'm glad i got to live through the good the bad the ugly with you / i hope we never stop being amazed by all this love / how despite everything, it survived

you say, “the world is ending,” and i laugh and say, "when is it not?” there’s still flowers blooming and people singing and your fingers resting on the small of my back. that pink dress you like, my legs pressed against yours, your smile against mine. you said you’ll love me till the end and i’m watching you prove it. we’re dancing in the ashes, leaving our hurt behind with the footprints. you spin me around and i watch our memories on your walls. if we disappear tonight, i want us to be remembered for how fiercely we loved, how stupidly optimistic we stood in the face of the apocalypse, how we kissed through the darkness and held on till dawn. i want the silver linings, something beautiful salvaged from this wreckage. tell them the world got ugly but we didn’t let it touch us. that we refused to take our rose-colored glasses off. tell them it wasn’t all bad. that we held something lovely in the palms of our hands, and it wasn’t heavy. not at all.

our story is not just one of transformation, of seasons passing. it's also a story of passion. of a love that has teeth. of a love that bites back. a story where you call me persephone, and i look you in the eye as i crack a pomegranate shell. where i feel each seed on the palm of my hand. feel the weight of my decision. where i hold it up to my lips and smile at the power i can taste. where i bite down into our future, and you can't look away from my reddened lips. this is a story of indulgence. where we sink into the world, where we stay intoxicated off wine and each other's presence. if they call this a sin, i will gladly be a sinner. if they call you a villain, i'll let them see my claws. my sharp teeth. how i've never been the damsel-in-distress. i've followed you into the darkness, and i'll laugh and kiss you through it.

today, you shimmy on the train while people shoot you looks from behind their magazines / you sway from side to side in your old shoes / accept that maybe you're not okay but you will be soon / realize that you are not ashamed to feel so much / that you're ready to let emotions flow out your cupped hands and paint the floor / leave a dripping, surreal mess / you want to lie down and make angels in it / you want to color this town with all the shades you have / spill outside the lines / forget about picture-perfect / everybody lives like they're being watched anyway / and you're tired of rehearsing for the show / you want to let yourself feel everything / with intensity that leaves you unsteady / but still laughing through it all

sometimes, love feels like a bloodletting. sometimes a slow murder, like take everything until i have nothing left, take my breath away, make me beg for it and forget to give it back. sometimes a quick slash of the throat. like go for the jugular. tear it out with your teeth as you go in for a kiss. make it feel like an act of intimacy. bring me to my knees. make a mess and walk away from it. like make your victim walk in voluntarily, accept the blindfold and cross their arms behind their back. let them feel butterfly kisses on the nape of their neck as you lean in to tie the rope. watch the sacrifice lie on the altar like it's a bed of roses. watch them reach to feel petals but come away with scarred fingers instead. like here take my heart and promise not to crush it. like let's play russian roulette and pray i can catch more than lies between my teeth. like dig my grave and still give me hope that you won't be the one to push me into it.

you once told me i appeared in your dreams amongst the most important people in your life. i asked you what i said and you said, "nothing." i was more disappointed than i should have been, but i guess it made sense. there were so many moments when you were curled up in my arms when i almost dared to tell you about my dreams. about how my churning thoughts left me feeling sea-sick and i tried to look for you to find stable ground, but you were too busy admiring the waves. you said i was fascinating. beautiful. even when i cried. so there were cracks all over me, more visible under a certain kind of light, but hey, it was good for your art, right? i was the perfect muse. didn't say a word. sat still and let you take me apart with yours. smiled when you asked me if i'd be okay. it was kindness, right? you wanted to peel away layers just to see what lay underneath. i tried to tell you that i already felt rubbed raw. like i was lying on the beach like a piece of glass. that i would cut you if you held me too tight. that i might catch your eye but ultimately felt worthless. but i said nothing. there is nothing left to say.

i'm saying goodbye to you, and i think about how this will be the last time i trace your fingers with mine, kiss the back of your neck, let my eyelashes graze your skin. i think it breaks my heart just a little how my hands will never again find themselves pushing your hair away from your eyes, how my chin will never again rest on your shoulder, how body will never again lean into yours instinctively. i don't know how to get used to reminding myself to stop reaching out for you.