Sunday, August 31

Find my words like a trail of breadcrumbs.

A hundred times I'd seen you before, and I never loved you in either of them. Just closed my eyes for fifteen seconds reliving entire lifetimes where we loved and abandoned each other. Oh how we often love the things that are broken or leaving. You always said that you fell in love with me as if I had everything else that you needed. Shuffling lives for months, having starved for consistency, I still wouldn't want to stay here for more than a moment. I lingered around the lobby of the hotel where we had our first date but you tasted better than anything on the menu. We walked along the beach where the waves crashed on our feet and you held me close to your chest. I will try to keep that picture of you as a memory, for you were vulnerable and willing to be loved and I was a girl that you'll barely survive, and wish you hadn't. Your kiss claimed ownership and I'm not the one who easily gives away. For a split second I saw hope in you, but that was just fire from the burning ruins of your past. From mine I'd build a castle for you. We could build forts in the sand and write our names together until the waves washed it away; then we'd write them again. I've never known anything of consistency; sometimes a single drop of rain and sometimes a hurricane. I'd either love you violently or not love you at all. I need you to lie next to me so you can remember what rain's supposed to sound like again. Your words were like wildfire and I was a forest waiting to be consumed. My kisses don't always claim ownership, but relax baby, you were meant to be mine. The wait has ended; the spark has died. I cant find the motivation to love you. Maybe you're hiding it from me. Every new memory of you erases the picture I'd already drawn and I was never good at sketching again and again. You found me in the dark corners of a night club; that one girl who would make you want to be infinitely better than you were. I have nothing heroic to say to you. Some days I'm flowing like the river of hope. Some days I am barely breathing. I have always lived like this; torn between staying lost & wanting to be found. It's just the way of things. You were no better. Switching sides between just existing and trying to just exist like your fancy theories. You're not numb, you're feeling everything else. 


One day you'll find my words, like a trail of breadcrumbs.

You'll be longing and lost.
Come find me.
We'll make love again.