Apr 30, 2017
i sing a sing of solitude on repeat in my head, i pride myself with knowing what i should and should not be showing.
— self-awareness: tip #3 (4.30.17) // n.j.txra
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i sing a sing of solitude on repeat in my head, i pride myself with knowing what i should and should not be showing.
— self-awareness: tip #3 (4.30.17) // n.j.txra
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the waiting game
Let me tell you a story about a girl named Grace. She had a ballerina body and an angelic face, Eyes that spoke volumes and lips that, quite frankly, Had girls writing letters and boys going unruly. She wanted love, as do most-- And she hides it well (at least that's what she boasts). But after years of scrambling in the dark, She met a man-- let's call him... Clark. He was a boy of gentle flame, embers of a bonfire; A fluent tongue, an expert eye, the youngest of an empire. He gave his heart freely, as if love is everyone's right-- Gliding off his calloused fingers like pigeons taking flight. Grace, now adept at catching several things-- From her mother's accusations to the way her pulse sings-- Told Clark that he, with his ocean loving and his seaglass heart, Won't find her Luna solitude a beautiful work of art. "So, don't bother," said she, as her heart begins to race Behind her chest, within her ribs, and beating out of pace. "I'm not ready for commitment, and I'm not looking for a fling. Don't offer me lewd suggestions or, God forbid, a promise ring." But, he insisted, "I'll wait. I'll wait until the sun sets. I'll stay hoping to be loved by you until Sol gets his rest. Don't think of the sunset here, in case you misunderstand, Nor there, nor two countries over, but in all of the land. It has to be simultaneous, not a second off the mark, If you can take me to that moment, to where light turns to dark, I will slip away silently, like a shadow in the night, And leave only kindness, a whisper, without a tantrum or a fight." "That's impossible," said she. "That's against the laws of science." He flashed a debonair grin, replied, "Tell that to nature, I've formed with her an alliance." "And Father Time?" She questioned, a growing smile on her lips. "He was my mentor," he joked. "Gave me a few tips." Her face went a pale crimson, a light scarlet, a dark blush-- She listened to the winds of the night, and the moon bidding hush, She thought of her years, how they've come and how they've gone, How her days flew past her, but finding Clark only took one. And she mulled it over, what could she possibly lose? She had a chest full of loving--of longing-- might as well put it to use. Grace looked and found honesty dancing with moonlight in his eyes, She thought, to let go, free falling, that must be nice. "Okay, I concede, you win in this battle of the wills. You can try to woo me, to court, or throw rocks at my windowsill. But, don't forget, my body is my own-- and my heart, the same; Don't push it into wanting to spell out your name." On that night, when Grace and Clark went their different ways, You can see, if the light hits right, the gentle smile on each's face. And there begun the waiting game of two lovers, both unaware That love isn't a thing you can hope to happen--it's already there.
hopeful
“I guess I won’t be the last one here.”
He writes me love letters with the callouses
Of his hands, his seed spilling ink onto flesh.
Plum and faint salmon have yet to swallow the sky and this short
Epoch of ours is already a dreamt eternity in his eyes. We were
Figurines in that moment—wood, sand, ice. I told him so, and hoped he
Understood that our frolics are only for the craters of the moon and not for the
Leisure of the sun. I was, after all, just a ghost left from lovers past.
“You’re not that naïve to ask.”
matrimony
there was an altar in the far distance with our footprints on its marble tiles and a cake with a topper miming our smiles, and my father and his mother wiping tears out of their eyes and a heavy weight on one ring finger of mine.
he held me in his arms under the glass chandelier showering us with yellow light and asked me how i knew how to dance so beautifully.
i told him, “my mom excelled at throwing things-- from a tantrum to a glass vase to her unpredictable mood swings-- and i guess with a woman like a comet living with you in your house, you learn far too young how to keep quiet. i won’t lie and say the ocean taught me grace or that the fading moon taught me beauty-- i just took a few hits to the face and then forced myself to make it something pretty.”
and he smiled. and kept quiet. and continued to sway me in the middle of the dance floor in the middle of the pavilion in the middle of the country in the middle of the world. and kept me close so i could hear his beating heart, and know that lying wasn’t his mastered art, when he spoke his words of love to me, and told me i was finally free
and that i could dance with the sun as my spotlight or in the middle of our bedroom in the apex of night-- and that he can’t promise not to snap or get mad or argue, "but you should know, i will always love you”
and that i shouldn’t rely on myself to keep on living, because “we have each other now, and our love to keep us breathing, and darling i tell you your mother may have kept you down, but you slayed those dragons and lost that frown, and i don’t care if the moon didn’t grant you beauty or the ocean, grace-- i know in my heart, and in my aching soul-- that bravery and courage wears your face.”
introduction to adolescence
Love stood beside each other, standing under desultory luminescence,
Lips rarely apart,
Eyes never apart,
Hearts almost a part of the other, beating to the cadence of the stars.
Lust sits across, gazing at the couple—
(Jealous?) Smirking, recalling, reminiscing,
Silken sheets on skin, sweat shining,
And mouths silently singing, composing hidden notes,
Except for those that seek its loveless touch.
Heartbreak whimpers, whispers, and youth soothes it;
Pulling laughter out of their own ribcage, saying,
“Darling, we are moonlight, don’t let darkness drag you down.”
Assurances fall on deaf ears, as
Tears fall on deaf hearts.
Wrapped in an ocean of denial in the middle of land,
Swinging and swimming, eyes blurry;
Refraining from accepting, from
Seeing reason.
“Idiots, open your eyes,”
Smoke says, standing outside, blowing rings out of clouds.
“Gravity never apologizes for pulling,
so don’t apologize for falling.
The night is young.
And so are we.”
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celestial
I was the rolling clouds and you were lunar tones peeking through me on days we shroud the moon with our embrace. We didn't sleep during nighttime, we were nighttime; beautiful and curious and contrasting.
We threw constellations on each other like snowballs; Cygnus on my forehead (swan beauty blooming), Orion spreading on the wide expanse of your back (hunting heartfelt wishes), Ursa Minor on my collarbones (dipping low to catch your kisses).
I hid Virgo in the nape of my neck, where I traced it with blushing cheeks and shaking fingertips, rapid heatbeats and bitten lips.
Gemini danced in the mazes of your palms, drawing closer to mine like magnetic poles we had no control over, twins burning in your hands like campfire flames until I satisfied it with the stories of my lonely days.
You smiled at me through the curtain of your lashes, and I felt Leo burning in my chest, whispering, "yes, lover. This is what pride feels like."
contrast
This man I fell for, he had a compass for a heart and everyone knew I wasn't one for electro gravity. This man I fell for, his hands were parachuting soldiers and my palms were one of the seven seas not really good for landing on. This man I fell for, he nursed candles on the roof of his mouth and my mom always told me I speak fast enough to birth a hurricane.
This man I longed for, he housed the sun in the brightness of his eyes and mine were desperate sunflowers seeking them out each time he turns. This man I longed for, he had oceans hidden in the corals of his ears and my voice was a heartbreaking whale song too loud, too raw, too real to be contained in echoes. This man I longed for, he taught Icarus how to climb the ladders of his ribcage and all I had dotted on my flesh were moon dust and lunar craters.
This man I breathed for, he let go of balloons in his laughter while I kept roseless thorns and heavy sighs resting on my diaphragm. This man I breathed for, he filled his pockets with freshwater pools for his goldfish hands to swim in and my fingers held the grace of the shark. This man I breathed for, he gave her kisses with the day as their audience and ours were well acquainted with the dark.
“i’m jealous of those that have found their people.”
— secrets i wouldn’t tell my mother (2.23.17) // n.j.txra