bugs and boys alike...
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"that is what is wrong w/ cold people. not that they have ice in their souls- we all have a bit of that- but they insist that their every word and deed mirror that ice... for them, it is all honesty before kindness, truth before art. love is art, not truth. it's like painting scenery." ~lorrie moore
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you blaze through me, then put out the fire faster than the embers cooled. I'm drained through a strainer leaving bits and chunks of myself like lost virginity to bake in the sun. everyone tells me to leave you, but i stay, and this is exactly why i didn't want to start something. i pulled back the curtains, catching a glimpse of your hidden trees, your dark forests. your green house is empty; the image is shattered.
i want to take all the lost charms back, burying them in the yard to eventually flourish into sand castles and dunes. you break me apart and then hastily rearrange me, leaving creases and stains on my body. you self destruct on purpose in order to push me away, because you've never been so close to something so truthful and so honest and so pure that you could see through it like a dainty glass, a prism reflecting our different selves, ourselves. the colors break you, catapulting you into this chaotic junction- bleeding veins, burning forests. we are unstable. i'll never deny that. but you bruise me; i'm injured by the blondes, forever traumatized by misleading blues. i want to be whole, not obliterated into nothingness.
so i stay. why do i stay? i will never know. attempting to achieve the impossible, a pre-lost bet, a void lottery ticket. we have all made mistakes, but your insults are unjustified. i just don't tell you; i don't want to hurt you. but i deserve better. we deserve better.
this will either make or break us. you forget: i am light, you are dark. the world doesn't hurt God. you do.
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