Little things

Things change, love.

sliding and keys, hunting and fear, I'll not soon forget.  I put myself into a circle and I remember to think, remember to feel, to breathe.

I finally found the words and i realized why i discounted you.  It wasn't you, it was simply my perception of how things should be.  I have these ideas and these ideas stick and become truths.  They envelop me and take me by the hand and they pull me closer, whispering into my ear.  They are quite convincing, dark, enticing.

Something soft and comforting.  Something soft and true.

It's steadfast and unfaltering.  It doesn't see the boundaries because they are non-existent.  The lines blur to blood.  Where I thought I'd never go, I've since gone.

To the moon and back, I love you.

It's deep and fierce.  Strong, bold.  Chic and heady.  It's always been overpowering, all powerful.  It's always been a dreary rain, a sprinkle or a shower,  Perhaps simply the impending thunderstorm.  It's always been grey and beautiful.  It's always kept me awake and will always keep me away.  It overwhelms me and pulls me deep.  It presses a thousand elephants on my chest until I struggle for breath.  It's a small wire that catches a piece of flesh and wraps itself around, again and again, until it cuts through outer layers of skin, burning and itching and stinging until it finds a safe little nestling spot, bloodied and raw, then tightens again, once more. Something i want to dive into, gulp into my lungs, and scream out in rage.  It's a dark thing, the weaving and weaving.  Knitting together the threads, stitching and creating, seaming and sealing.  Lip tracing, veins pulling. 

You, you aren't this.  You aren't deep or fierce.  You aren't a starlit starling or a fire kindled.  

Remember where you came from, girl.  Remember who you are.  Those days when you were a little less envy.  Just be a sweet girl, dove, love.  Smoke and chills, beaten into a fog.  Be something beautiful.  Not you, not me, just an idea, possibility.  You just go, just let go.  All of the world's salt water taffy couldn't compare.  Tea in cups, you and me. 

I'd rather be dressed in black, so small, in the background.  That's just the way it goes.  I'd still try; I'd still take the blows and I'll take your heat and the bitterness and the warmth.  Or the cool, I'll take your cool fighting.

Just because I said I'd never be your Jesus, that i'd only be an escape, something ended up missing.  You'd never show me a sign.  Whatever happened to a promise?  Whatever happened to a thought, somewhere being thought, something that was brought back to me?