paulyshoresghost

“I am in the middle of it: chaos and poetry; poetry and love and again, complete chaos. Pain, disorder, occasional clarity; and at the bottom of it all: only love; poetry. Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love.”

“We kissed because we were starving for it. We were so desperate with each other that every time we went out, at least one person would pull me to the side and ask if one of us was dying. The answer, of course, was always yes. We didn’t even know what to do with our hands. Sometimes, they’d wind up on my mouth, over your entire face, trailing up and down your spine, nails like rakes over angry red skin. It couldn’t have been pretty, and God, if you were watching, you’re a pervert, but I’m also sorry. We loved like we were trying to make up for lost time. Every touch an apology, an “I’m sorry I haven’t been with you everyday since elementary school.” There was no way it wouldn’t end badly, so we stayed away from fire, because we knew what it could do to beautiful things. We spent an hour everyday in separate parts of the apartment, relearning distance, trying to remember how to measure in feet and inches instead of eyelashes and arms. I could feel you in the kitchen. I could feel how tense your muscles were, how tightly your jaw was clenched. Every length of you was humming without me. I knew you like the back of your hand. Every vein, every freckle. That scar in-between your middle and ring finger from when you fell down during a game of kickball. It was all urgency. All fire-engine red. We saw the smoke coming from a mile away and kissed the treetops before they coughed and writhed under the flames. It was a beautiful forest. Too beautiful to stay. I will never forget the place that I loved you, even if it is raining ash. I hear some of the trees are still alive on the inside.”