#amarylliad

i have always wanted blue eyes. i wanted to be the mystery wrapped in girl that the books told me were heroes. i wanted to be desire. i wanted to be the ocean, to be the sky, to be drowned in and taken like the voices of sirens, tangled in blonde hair, lost at sea. brown eyes must do on the sly what blue eyes will burst out and sing, must skulk around and observe the world, clandestine. but brown eyes see dirt and see skin and see scars and brown eyes know the glint of glowing limbs and perhaps brown eyes are safer. they don’t get lost in the passing of the breeze. 

i’m sitting in bed. lying down. in between, collapsed between sheet and the pillow. it’s funny that i like sitting folded up, like those origami cranes that are so simple to make, tipping over unless propped up on two sides by fingers or by walls. i’m no contortionist. i just fit into small spaces better than most. sometimes it’s reassuring to feel something solid pressing concretely against skin, like the ‘pop’ of lips parting or the ‘smack’ of shampoo lid. losing myself is easy. evaporation in hot shower, blank wall in front of barre, the laze of 11:11 sun parting a wisp of ne'er-do-good hair… there is ‘losing,’ and there is ‘loss.’ the latter does not apply. too much to have, too much to not, and i sit in my corner with my sore-tired legs and fingers chewed to knots. i don’t want to detangle myself. i don’t want to flow easy. i don’t want to become the straight solution that shampoo scrapes flat like the nonmystery of my hair. there’s nothing here, if not for the tangles lying limp against the pillow.

i have forgotten how to be angry. or is it that the world has filled me up on tired? there's no room for fire in my heart. only echoes; barren, lulling me to sleep.

today i  learned under a sky of artificial stars that Venus is a horrible planet for life. too close to the sun, too cloudy, too thick, sheathed in layers upon layers of carbon dioxide and sulfuric acid that burns to the touch. its atmosphere takes in sun and cycles it around the planet, once, twice, around and around between the ground and the clouds, endless catch-throw of excess heat. the air on Venus is so heavy that it can crush you in half a heartbeat. it is always 900°, fahrenheit. no seasons. no days. just the endless spinning of molten core under boiling red-hot rock. today i learned that Venus cannot sustain life. that Venus is but a bed of molten rock wrapped in layers upon layers of insubstantial gas. no wonder it's named after love.

true, the sky is only so high and my finger tips could touch it if i tried but do i really want to set it aflame? it is blue, so very blue, like mountains steeped in the depths of your eyes and i wonder if this is how the ocean felt when selene told her she loved her, too

maybe i have never loved. maybe this pull i feel is mechanical reaction, instinct obligation pushing me towards affection. maybe love is not large and blossoming but compact black, ticking mysteriously in the corner until time stoops and picks it up. neglect is not lack, is abundance of. you are meant to give until you give from negative space. no wonder some relentlessly take. empty hands, empty minds, full of delicious hunger. is it still cannibalism if space is devouring vacuum?

amelia! my tumblr is @amarylliad