lifebringer

my magic is quieter now–
gone are the times of wildly tangled sheets;
mornings filled with whispers of sticky skin
and bursting with an overwhelming recklessness.

my magic instead resides in sleepy awakenings,
tiny hands and toes prodding me into reality,
and a warmth spreading from the nose pressed to my hair.

my magic sparks with gentle kisses,
and precious giggles.

I am filled to the brim
with it every time I hear his words:
you’re beautiful, and I love you.
before he slips back to a half-concious state,
his hand a comforting pressure against my hip.

my magic still aches through my creaky bones,
but it is no longer from drunken 2am adventures,
hasty hands fumbling to own my body;
it’s from a natural agelessness, a wisdom of the world.

I overflow with life, my skin left with the scars of
the overwhelming responsibility of what it means
to be a mother; I overflow with love.

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The way two universes collide.

I want to keep kissing you.
I want to make love to the way my name sounds when it escapes your breath.
I want to fall in rhythm with your heartbeat.
I want to savor the sweet taste of forever and forget the way goodbye feels against my tongue.

I want your fingers entwined in mine, for better or worse.

snapshots of a life

Act 1; Scene 1:
-Everything is awash in hazel and warmth. He keeps staring at you. Your heart shatters, tumbles, crashes into his open palm. He’s smiling, brighter than the sun. He grasps your hand–you fall.

Act 1; Scene 2:
-Your emotions are storming outside, lightning cracking the sky into pieces. Your breath keeps catching in your throat–he’s so close, more electric than the fire raining from the clouds. And his eyes, oh God, his eyes.
And then, his lips are pressed sinfully against yours. For a moment you understand; if this isn’t the Kingdom, you don’t know what is.

Interlude:
-When you wake, forever is a bitter taste, turned to ash in your mouth. His words, scrawled so perfectly, do little to dull the snap against your ribcage; that first real sting of heartbreak.

You survive in his absence, but you’d never mistake it for living.

(Act 1; Scene 3 [aka. the scene we don’t talk about]:
-The morning, when he officially asks you—you think your heart might break from the way it’s growing. That month, where his promise weighs against your soul, it’s the easiest month of your life. All it takes is one boy with right shade of blueblue eyes to destroy every forward step you’d taken).

Act 2; Scene 1:
-You’ve never felt hatred quite like this moment. Something akin to fire is blazing beneath your skin and when you look at him, everything flares.
The first time he kisses you, it’s pity. The second, a drunk mistake. You vow the third will be different.
You fall in love with him two months before it happens.

Act 2; Scene 2:
-He’s staring at you. After a week of silence, he’s just staring at you. You feel like you’re choking, you feel like you’re dying. You press a hand to the life beginning to pulsate beneath your skin, and you almost hate him for being the better man.

Act 2; Scene 3:
-It’s a slow strangle for the next 3 years; fighting, fucking, falling apart. You end almost exactly where you began, full of too much hate and too much love to look him the face when you break his heart.


Interlude:
You fall in love with him because you’re broken; you let him reciprocate because he’s married and safe. You sabotage it because it’s always easier to control the outcome. (but, goddamn, if some part of you didn’t think, for one second, he would choose you).


Act 3; Scene 1:
-You multiply in your own loneliness; nothing times nothing, numbness becoming more numbness.

You wake one morning covered in scars, inked and purposefully inflicted. And when you look in the mirror, all you see is what was taken from you.

All you see is your third act, your last chance.

You wake up one morning, you look in the mirror–you’re already dead.