A world of firsts. Where pianos play on the street, and the water crashes up to my knees. A world where my jeans cut off before my ankles, and I am no longer afraid. There is a world where the sun shines through my window and makes the books glisten. I have entered an alternate dimension where I never loved the sight of the ghastly moon. My skin was kissed by the sun, the most intimate form of connection to this earth. Drunk on two glasses of wine, walking along the edge of this world, where fear and freedom live. The water crashes up to my knees, and I look at where the sea and heaven meet. I am wearing my yellow dress, and I am where I am meant to be. I plant my toes in the sand, and grow my roots here. I am no longer lost. I have found myself.
As I walk down the street,
I am next to another soul.
I sway my arms, praying for his and mine to meet.
Maybe then, I will feel whole.
My hands are of a hard worker,
a woman who sowed her pain to strength.
Yet, when I sit still on a train, my heart races, even when I think of you and her.
Young woman with an old soul, just waiting for her rebirth.
I am walking down the street, looking for you.
My feet drag, and I am counting my breaths.
In, out. One, two. Three, four.
I still look for a missing piece of my soul.
In, out. Five, six. Seven, eight.
My heart continues to race, even when I look down at the concrete.
The lake was the color of red wine,
and the earth smells of rain.
My skin was tattooed with that smell.
When I walked through the door, you
kissed my skin, and told me you loved the smell
of rain, that you could never leave what you love.
I walked through the garden, an unfamiliar place
within this concrete jungle. I walked through the door,
you kissed my skin, and told me you could never get
used to the smell of flowers. I stood outside in the rain.
Last night, I saw you with her in the garden.
Surrounded by flowers, you kissed her skin.
You got used to the smell.
You never even liked the smell of rain.
With a beautiful mind, you became my theory of everything. The theory that discovered the marriage of time and space– that the world started off as a blackhole, so endless. You were endless. You sucked me in, and I became engulfed in the idea of you. I’ve written you into theory after theory, your mind became an experimental analysis for me to review. What a beautiful mind. The stars aligned, your mind was in the right place, and my theory was supported by where your hands were placed on my waist. I was defeated. I have failed as your scientist. I have proven the theory of everything. You are the theory of everything.
He is nothing like you.
There will be nobody compared to you,
and I’m afraid that will always hold me back from trying.
He is nothing like you.
Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe a different kind of soul is what’s best
He is nothing like you.
While you are trying to figure it all out by staring at what needs to be done,
he figures it out by getting it done.
He is nothing like you,
but when I lay next to him,
he feels just like you.
WHAT IS IT THAT YOU NEED?
WHAT ARE YOU SEARCHING FOR WHEN EVERYTHING YOU CRAVE,
YOU HAVE WITHIN YOURSELF.
YOU MUST NOT WANT FOR NOTHING, YOU HAVE IT ALL,
YOU ARE FULFILLED.
NO AMOUNT OF OUTSIDE LOVE CAN COMPARE
TO YOUR SELF LOVE.
TO LOVE YOURSELF MEANS SO MUCH MORE THAN
THE LOVE OF SOMEONE ELSE.
DO NOT FORGET THAT, YOUNG SOUL.
YOUR BODY IS YOUR HOME, HE IS ONLY A GUEST
COMING FOR A SHORT VISIT,
DO NOT LET HIM OVERSTAY HIS WELCOME.
THIS IS FOR YOU, SWEET CREATURE.
TO NEVER FORGET YOUR WORTH,
TO NEVER LET GO OF YOUR WARMTH.
LISTEN TO ME, MY LOVE
YOU ARE MADE OF VELVET LOVE AND THE STARS
THE TWINKLE IN YOUR EYES IS A SIGN OF LOVE,
A SIGN OF GROWTH,
NO MORE STRIFE.
YOU HAVE SEEN IT ALL, MY LOVE.
YOU HAVE SEEN WHAT IS NOT REAL, AND
WHAT MUST NOT BE SPOKEN OF.
LISTEN TO ME, CHILD OF THE STARS,
YOU ARE MADE OF MORE THAN THE RIB OF A MAN– YOU ARE MADE UP OF THE COSMOS
YOUR VOICE IS A SONG THAT OTHERS BEG TO LISTEN TO,
THE SONG THAT BECKONS SAILORS TO SHORE.
REMEMBER TO TREASURE WHO YOU ARE, CHILD OF THE COSMOS.
YOU WERE BORN OF EXPLOSIONS,
YOU WERE BORN TO BE ATOMIC
The night you left was the night I became a woman. You held me close, and told me how much you had loved me. With both of our shirts off, you pressed my chest closer to yours. This is how I wanted to remember each moment with you. I swear you could probably hear my heart beating. This was such a natural feeling for me. I planted kisses on your chest, neck, cheek… that grew into buds of roses. Your cheeks were always red. Even when you spoke. I believed that you were the greatest gift that God gave me in this awful, violent world. With his own hand, he gave me a piece of gold from heaven. You were gold to me. Empty promises, and false profession of love flowed from your tongue—a waterfall destined to drown me. Death. You spoke on false hope. You spoke while sitting on the highest throne in the kingdom of my soul, and you torched this holy temple. My body was a graveyard of forgotten memories, and I had to hold vigils and funerals for each forgotten soul. My body had collapsed. Although you became my worst nightmare, one that I do not need to sleep in order to experience, your mind still lures me in. Your intelligence reminds me of what I have yet to learn about the world. The way you looked at me was how young lovers looked at each other in the movies. I hope to never forget the time we spent together. Never forget how much I love you. Remember how much you mean to me, and how amazing I think you are. I hope one day I love somebody as much as I thought you loved me.
I can’t breathe. It feels like my heart is beating in my throat, as if I have swallowed a million tiny stones. My eyes are stinging, and I cannot breathe and I am blind. My hands are numb, and I can no longer feel your body. My knees cannot hold my body up anymore, and I fall to the ground, weak and without any more energy. My heart swells with the pain you caused, and it ruptures. You walk towards me with the words that killed me right in your hands, and you read them to me over my dead body like a priest giving me my last rights. You are preparing me for my next life with my God. You reach down, brush your fingers through my hair and say, “I still love you.” My eyes start to sting a little more. I am still dead, and I still love you.
There is nothing more in the world that makes me more aware of the wear on my mind that the moment of solitude enjoyed.
I was sitting in my class, and I was looking around at everybody around me. I saw how everybody was happy and socializing. They found joy in the social setting– discussing their common interests, their hobbies, everything that they could possibly talk about. I found myself happy knowing that I was sitting on my own in silence. I realized that my mind has been alone for so long that I have found joy in my own mental solitude.