solselenesoreia

1. a knife that splits open my rib cage

2. a concussion

3. enough whiskey to soak my liver

4. another unsent letter

5. an unexpected call

6. a foolish confession

7. to hold you in my arms

8. another chance

9. a bottle smashed against my head

10. to cry in your arms

11. to leave honey out for you without it having to be a glue trap

12. a car ride to your favourite spot

13. a playlist that doesn’t bleed your name

14. a song that doesn’t bleed my eyes

15. a declaration of independence

16. a declaration of peace

17. a ceasefire

18. amnesia

they say that someone else's presence in your mouth stays for about six minutes from the last time they kissed you, that bruises from teethed affection fade after two weeks, that the skin replaces itself every twenty-seven days, and that muscle memory can last a month or a decade or a lifetime.

there are some rules to leaving something, or someone. for starters, restrain from talking about it to everyone all the time, save it for your five best friends only. don't sulk around in public after the first month, after which, all sulking must be restricted to drunk nights, bed pillows, and the bathroom floor. do not agree on the whole being friends deal, especially if you were best friends, especially if you still love them. do not mistake instinctual care for a sign of mutuality, good people always care about others. and do not kiss the hand that lets yours go, do not make a fool of yourself in hopes of redemption.

always remember, whether you are the one that leaves or the one that is left, keep walking. let the distance grow before turning back around. let there be enough space in between for new flowers to breathe. a garden rebirths itself even if left forever alone. soil grows stronger roots in the after-events of death and decay. here, you may choose to frolic in the weeds in a few years, but its best advised to just sit and watch the bloom. remember to keep walking. do not overstay your in-between welcomes. leave politely and in peace.

the flight that i am leaving on has a weight limit to it. and here's is what i can carry with me.

a number. a passcode. about 98mb worth of storage in my phone. a single overpriced earring. thirteen seashells from your trip to the beach two years ago. a sunflower that never dies. a silver sliver on my wrist. my hands. my skin. my bones. a couple of tattooed kisses that are due to fade in twelve days. a lighter and some candles. a box full of bills unsettled. a few papers to write more shit on. a ghost. a bag full of anger and well wishes.

“I have a question for you”

“What’s up?”

“How many times do you think we can do this before we ruin us irreversibly and hate each other forever?”

“I have no clue.”

“…”

“…”

“I love whales.”

Fine.

I’ll do it. I’ll let you resent me.

I’ll put on henna in the centre of my palms so that you don’t have to hold my hand.

Fine. I’ll do it.

I’ll let you resent the scent of my hair and the sight of my smile and you’ll never have to hold my hands again.

Now just sit back down here with me and let’s finish this meal. It’s too much for just one person and it tastes delicious, so eat.

Fine. I’ll do it.

Just come back, sit down.

I know you resent the smell of henna, and so you resent my hands too because

I’ve put henna on the palm of my hands so you don’t have to hold them anymore.

Fine. You don’t resent me.

I know you don’t resent me.

I wish you would want to hold my hand.

On days when life knocks me down to new lows, I sit on the bathroom floor. I turn off all the lights, I open the window. I light a cigarette with a gifted lighter, I play my favourite song.

My first heartbreak got me onto cigarettes. My second heartbreak made me a smoker.

On the bathroom floor with just me and the breeze, I live through every three minute long song with my eyes shut close. The music and breeze and my cigarette and me, alone. Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. The only light being the golden glow at the tip of my lips. The only sight being your eyes right behind the screen of mine.

if you wanna break my cold COLD heart, just say, “I loved you, the way that you were.” and if you wanna tear. my. world. apart. say you’ll always. wonder.

you said some things that I can’t unabsorb. you turned me into an idea of sorts. you needed me but you needed drugs more and I couldn’t. watch it happen. I changed into GODDESSES. VILLIANS. AND FOOLS. CHANGED PLANS. AND LOVERS. AND OUTFITS. AND RULES. ALL TO OUTRUN MY DESERTION OF YOU AND YOU. JUST. WATCHED. IT.

IF THE GLINT IN MY EYE TRACED THE DEPTHS OF YOUR SIGHS DOWN THAT PASSAGE IN TIME. BACK TO THE MOMENT I CRASHED INTO YOU LIKE SO MANY WRECKS DO. TOO IMPALED BY MY YOUTH. to know what to do.

so if I sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet, will that make your memory fade from this SCARLET MAROON? like it never happened.

could it be enough to just float in your orbit? can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses? cooler in theory but not if you force. it. to. be. IT. JUST. DIDNT. HAPPEN.

if you wanna break my cold COLD heart, say you loved me. if you wanna tear. my world. APART. say you’ll always. wonder.

If I could fly to you tomorrow morning, I’d pretend to have sent you a parcel from somewhere, and bait you to come to the door. When you open the door I’d say something clever and funny, something laid-back to hide the fact that I flew a thousand miles over to you. I’d throw my arms around your neck and I imagine you’d hold me by my waist too. My nails would trace Five imissyous in your hair and hopefully your breath on my neck would do the same.

At noon I’d cook something nice for us and you can sit next to the stove, chatting away. We can sit side by side or at opposite ends and pretend to enjoy another mediocre attempt at gourmet. There wouldn’t be a need to talk, you already know. I hope. You wouldn’t ask me to make an excuse for my sudden apparition, and I’d pretend to be comfortable in your space from far away.

We can watch your favourite films and dissect every frame like great artists who just couldn’t be. With bellies full and weary eyes, we can sleep away the midday sun. I’ll try to match my breathing with yours, hold in and slow down my heartbeat. We can play pretend and fall to dreams while I stare at your face and at the spot I kept my hands on.

At dusk you can pour me something golden in mismatched college glassware and follow it with an empty clink. Eight sips in, I’ll light a cigarette with the lighter you gave me, and catch you furrowing a brow at it. You’d count out the cons of burning tobacco leaves, and then take a puff when I offer you one without resistance anyway. We can sit and chat away about mindless things till Seven, and I’d laugh at all your jokes.

All throughout, I’d like to think, you’d want to close the distance between us too. Two grazing knees under the table at lunch and a rested head on the shoulder sipping whiskey and ice.

In slurry words and lazy tongues, I’ll confess how much I have missed you all this while. And under the translucent influence you can bury your head in my chest and say you missed me too. I’ll rub your back and kiss your forehead, and you can plant your ear on my skin. Listen to the fan stir air thickened with loss, I’d have to give in and say,

I’m sorry for how things worked out. We deserved better. I’m sorry I pushed you too hard. I know you loved me. I know you loved me very much. I loved you too, I will always. You need to let go of our mistakes, yours and mine both. You shouldn’t punish yourself for things you didn’t do. You were always so nice to me. So nice and kind and loving. I’m sorry that I exhausted you. I’m sorry I kept you running. Things don’t need to be as black and white as you want them to be. It’s okay. You’re doing the best you can and I am so proud of you. You’re going to make it. You will have everything you want and desire, I will pray for it. You can put the walls down. It’s okay. I’m here. You don’t need to severe every thread you stitched to me, you don’t need to strike my name out in your books. Please don’t categorise and computerise the sound of my voice. Don’t recalculate my place and my value in your life. Most of all, don’t be indifferent to us, don’t push me away. I’m here now. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. I flew a thousand miles this morning for you. It’s okay. Nothing else matters right now. I’m here and there’s another to movie left to watch. I’m here until there’s another flight to catch. I’m here and I’m here and I’m here. For you.

I want to smash my head into the wall

I want to shatter the mirror I stare at 

I want to show up to your house 

And scream my heart out 

Hit your head with something heavy and pink

Instead

I will wash my face and moisturize it

I will bathe myself with boiling water, purify every inch 

I'll rub off all my layers,

Every part of me you ever touched 

And i will scrub you out of muscle memory 

I will put lotion on my skin and 

I will brush my hair gently

I will wear that sweater and keep myself warm 

I will paint my lips and smile bright

It'll hide the stains of your left over kisses

And then maybe

Maybe I will forget how bad it stings 

I will face all of my despair 

And I will not succumb to it

I will take all of my despair

And make something beautiful of it

Frankly speaking, this was a long time coming. You could just sit there and tell. Both your friends and mine would agree and perhaps would heave a sigh of relief. But what do I say? How do I grieve you?

For someone who never expressed how much they loved me, for someone who never said all three of those words together and without a nudge, what do I have to look back at? No letters, no prose, no words to affirm, no words to reassure. No tuxedos and no balloons in the trunk of your car for the someone who wasn’t the one.

But it’s never that easy is it? It would be merciless for me to claim that you never loved me. Almost as crude as your reluctance to express it. Because I know you and your effortless charm. I know you and your careful deception. I know you, and I always will.

There’s love in the first bite of everything eaten, which was always mine, from your fingers to my lips. There’s love in the hand on the wheel that drove alone because its companion was intertwined with mine. There’s love in the kisses blown from 1400 miles away reflecting off from glass screens and helplessly never reaching.

There’s love in your teeth forever engraved on the top of my right shoulder, and the left one. There’s love in my back arching itself for your arms to find the gap to fill in. There’s love in my hands holding your face in them for the last time, full of grief and longing.