#expressive writing

*from my book Reliquary of the Soul — link in my profile.*

i watched his smile drift through the room like moonlight spilling through half-opened window, the last flicker of day refusing to end in the restless wind tonight, the space between heartbeats until it felt like not just the kind of feeling that knocked the air from your lungs—not the kind that steals the weight of breath from your body forgot to breathe it back in like a string pulled too tight, curling up in between sunken hollow, somewhere at the back of your throat too quiet to outcry at a push. it's clearly not the kind of pain to bear the weight of something deep down your chest, let alone a kind of pain at all.

but it felt like the kind that crept in slowly by the way he pulled me into his heartbeat threading in every quiet moment we share, and the space between his breath—our breaths, the surface of our skins touching, the air, the room, the quiet surrouding poured into me like the last light of dusk tonight, curled up along the seam of our breaths where words would only fray at the edges.

and the edges, they were folded into this paper, unfolding themselves with the thoughts of you in the most innocent way possible. because desire was never meant to be compared to the source from which all sweetness first learned its name, and i refused to define you as something to be tasted, let alone an aftertaste, a leftover of sweetness. the sweetness itself, it begs to be consumed—a hunger that seeks to devour, to be finished, in a fleeting moment that bring things to a close as quickly as it came.

so, it's not that i don't want you entirely, but what i want is, to want you in a way that doesn't steal from you. in the most innocent way possible.

i love you.

You can make me cry

You can rip out my heart

You can tear it all apart

But I will stand tall

I will not fall

I have learned my lesson

So there is my god damn confession

That sweet little girl is gone

Along with her sweet song

Now she is shattered

•••

I kept convincing myself that you cared. & not because I needed you to, but because I was scared to face what it would mean if you didn’t. What wounds it would touch, what pain it would resurface, what false conclusions it would have me drawing about myself… It was never about you, it was about what you represented.

•••

The cruelest part was how you would pull me back in when you knew you weren’t going to stay. Kept me guessing instead of telling me you didn’t care. Said maybe someday when you knew that day would never come. The cruelest part was how you held my heart captive, and broke it, not just once, but as many times as you could manage— a million little times.

•••

Soft and malleable,

Warmth seeping through it as hands interlock in beautiful embrace,

Finally feeling as though returning to a home long awaited for,

The feeling of a thousand little fireworks cascading through the skin,

Gently kissing each and every cell within ones body,

The rush of electricity intertwined with the breath of intimacy,

The feeling more beautiful than a summer shower of rain,

More delicate than a freshly bloomed rose,

More serine than any symphony to be played.

- Obsession.

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