stone cold sober

You remain.

I have buried you so far in my darkness,
and prayed for your suffocation.

But still you breathe, still you beat,
A steady rhythm in the back of my mind,
a metronome of mistake tick-tick-ticking.

you remain, you are not remains.
you should be a skeleton, stark white and starved;
shoved to the back of my closet, all bones and death.

But still, you breathe, still you beat,
you are pounding down the doors,
screaming through my hallways.

you remain,

you remind,

you have become the darkness,
creeping in, crawling across my skin, caressing my heart.
You breathe, you burn, you beat (ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum).

you remain.

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.

the right kind of anchor

-the smell of his skin keeps her alive, in those small moments before the dawn breaks when she wants nothing more than to let the breath rattle from the depths of her soul until there is not even a whisper. He is there, in those moments, and his hand is brushing her waist, and his chest is pressed against her so tight that all she can do is breathe. Steady now, in and out. Steady now, follow the rhythm of his heart beat.

Open Letter to Former Lovers.

I keep racking my brain, trying to figure out the best way to rid myself of you. There have been countless words, unending tears, random boys and girls, and more heartbreak than I thought possible since I left your life.

History has always been a hard thing for me to walk away from. And although we were together for such a short time, you’ve been a part of me since before, before this beginning, before this life.

I always focus on the wrong thing when it comes to you. The wrong moment in time. As soon as I start thinking about the beginning, it’s already ending.

That’s the thing about history; it can deceive you. It’s so easy to get caught up in the way the past connects you. It’s so easy to become blind to the way the present is tearing you apart. I think I always knew how we were going to end, the quiet strangle of our demise. After all, how could it have ended any other way?

I was always going to walk away.

You were always going to be the better person.

What I didn’t predict or expect was just how hard I would fall for you, how deep the rabbit hole would go. I never expected to give you all of me. I have grown in that absence, grown hard, grown weary. I forgot how to love after you. You left a fissure so large I separated. You took something from me, you took my love and my trust.

I wonder, every day, if you ever loved me. Did I mean anything to you at all?

It doesn’t matter. I’ve been looking at this wrong the whole time. I don’t need to move on from you, I need to move forward from the girl that loved you. I need to let go of the pieces of myself that I let you infect. I need to cut myself down, until I can rebuild myself. I need to completely dismantle myself and start from scratch. I need to carve out the heart that learned your rhythm. But even knowing what I need to do, even with you worlds away and back to a better place, I don’t want to lose you completely. (I can’t lose you, because you never mine to lose. You were never mine).

I know that someday my logic will rule out over my emotion. I know that someday this fresh new scar will bloom into a new person, that this pain is just the healing itch.

I gave you all of me. And I want to thank you for taking me. I have no regrets.

I hope you’re really happy. Because I’m going to be.

-E