CJ Kisch

I wrapped myself in plastic wrap, layer by layer, head to feet. I can still move. I can still see you and you can still see me. But it’s a little stuffy and it’s hard to breath. And it’s over my mouth and over my ears so I can still hear you and you can still hear me but it’s all kind of... muffled.

And the plastic is thick. So the there’s tear marks from the people who tried to get through to me. They had to make it hurt. But eventually they left because it takes effort to claw through all of that.

So when people pass by they smile and I still see it. But you can’t actually touch me and I can’t actually touch you and I’m not alone but I’ve never been so l o n e l y.

Trying to be cute while wasted will always be a fail.

You were jet black. Cold, distant. There was so much passion though. You broke things inside of me I didn’t know existed.

You were green. Alive. Awake. Full of wonder, awe, big dreams. You gave me a rush no drug ever could. I couldn’t keep up.

You were red. Full of love, full of pain. Erratic and loud and always flying. I could never tell if you were on drugs or if you were the drug. I guess I was a little afraid of heights.

You were blue. Calm, collected. A wave of gentleness. The smell of rain. Soft. I was scared of the calm.

You were yellow. Charismatic, bubbly. Full of amusement. I wasn’t enough. You said so yourself.

You are gold. Like sunlight. You’re stability, grounded, driven. I think you deserve better.