#5000letters

YOU WERE MY SUN, BUT IT’S DARK NOW

Cato's Bridge circa 1960. Jupiter Florida

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A list of things to remember: Every person you meet is not going to love you, they may not even like you. Migratory birds always find their way back home. Even at its darkest, the sky is never entirely black. Reading a book from your childhood will make you the happiest. Collecting beautiful things might make them more beautiful. Collecting beautiful things might take away their light (fireflies, pieces of the moon, daisies, stardust.) Each vein you trace will somehow find its way back to your heart. Butterflies weigh as little as two rose petals. The moonflower opens in mid to late afternoon and blooms right through the night. When the sun rises in the morning, the moonflower dies and another is born that exact time the next afternoon. You are your own zenith. “You cannot save people, you can only love them.” - Anais Nin. No one is ever, ever entirely alone. [5000letters]

I tell my friends you don’t cross my mind anymore, been there, done that, and when they ask if we’ve spoken recently I tell them I deleted your number. or was it that you deleted mine? I think about being held. I’ll close my eyes and wish it was your fingers entwined with mine instead of a tall stranger. I think we must be outside because I feel cold. or maybe it’s the storm brewing inside of me and the rain is almost ready to drown us all. I’m lost in my own heart, I don’t know the way out. you find somebody good and you want to hold on. shift and adjust, cross your legs, stretch out your arms, heads on shoulders and lust in eyes. absent-mindedly tracing your name on every surface, not unlike you tracing it into my mouth, like a branding, I belong(ed) to you. asking myself how long it’s been since I lifted my fingers after writing a word and it didn’t burn. if you were wondering about the definition of shame, it looks a bit like this: a lover that can’t leave you alone, a lover that offers you warmth from wasted hours, and whispers of absolutely nothing. could have and would have and should have. this specific shade of shame demands an audience when it walks in, and here we are, every one of my selves. 

told you that she loved you as she slipped her fingers between your legs and tried to make you see god. 

her angelic tongue traced over the bruises her sharp teeth had left on the column of your throat and you swore it was almost holy.

and the ironic thing was she left you for a boy who had no beliefs, renounced god, turned his back on everything you loved, and held her too tightly.