People run from rain but
in bathtubs full of
On our first date, I told you I was flighty. Impatient. Easily bored.
I don’t paint my nails because I can never sit still long enough
for even one coat to dry. I don’t fold my laundry because I hate the routine. I would rather buy new cutlery than wash my old ones.
Maybe I’m lazy. Maybe I have no motivation. Maybe I’m just looking for somebody to grab my shoulders and give me a shake and explain what normal is and why I should do it. But sometimes I brush my teeth for seven minutes straight because it just feels right. Some nights
I put my pillow on the opposite end of the bed because I’m still hopeful that I’ll wake up differently if I sleep differently. I never do.
Sometimes I forget that I’m reading in the middle of flipping a page,
instead struck by the thought we would rather make paper than oxygen, would rather have one less life-source than one less novel. I wonder about priorities. I wonder about people who think it’s necessary to match their socks when they leave the house every morning as if that’s what determines their character. I wonder about people who carry around purses that contain nothing but gum. I wonder about people who spend all their hours at a desk and then return to their house to pass the night alone in a cold bed with a frozen dinner. I wonder if they think that money will make them happier than other humans. I don’t like kissing when I have lipstick on, because I’m afraid of leaving a stain on a cheek, as if I’m marking my territory somewhere I don’t belong, as if I’m trespassing on camera. I stay up for twenty hours a day and spend the other fours hours knowing that the longest a person can stay alive without sleep is ten days. I wonder if my nervous system has begun to break down, leaving me nervous and broken along with it. I don’t understand the pills the doctors prescribed me even though they told me I was just upset over being broken up with. I told them I wasn’t upset, I was morose. I was downtrodden. I was a leaky ship; still afloat but getting lower under the weight of the water every second. I didn’t want to sink. I wanted to sail. But they didn’t tell me that the happy little green and white pills would make me plateau. On our first date, I said I felt flat. Not the kind of flat of calm water on a windless day, but the kind of flat that you associate with deflated balloons. All out of air or out of breath or struggling to find any words left. I felt like the kind of flat that musicians hate. That I hate and I can’t play a single instrument. On our first date, I think I told you I would understand if you didn’t stay. Nobody did and I never blamed them. I was too busy wondering about people who believed in numbers and the healing power of yoga on 3 a.m mornings and tying their shoes without kneeling down to notice when they left. I am stuck inside of a world that I don’t quite understand, with people I never seem to connect with.
FIRST DATE CONVERSATION (K.P.K)
how i will love you: my hands are shaky so i cannot carry two things at once without risking one of them dropping. i will bring your hot cocoa all the way from the kitchen to the couch before i go back to get my own. you will say, “you’re missing it” but i will watch you blindly take a sip of Nesquik’s magic blend and this to me will be more comforting than all of the explosions of the terrible action movie we’ve dedicated the past half hour to.
how i will love you: with sirens in my teeth that sob about everything. you will ask why i clench my jaw when i sleep, i will tell you that the nightmares are back and they are hunting. i have the ashes of burned forest coursing through my bloodstream. there are days where you will kiss me and you will taste nothing but screams.
how i will love you: i will read aloud your horoscope before mentioning mine. i will only tell you the dreams where you are the main character or if imaginary you and i made out a lot and bought ice cream. i will make you sandwiches, but only if you ask nicely. i will offer you my coat even though it would never fit you and i’m only wearing one layer underneath. i will worry about you, because i worry about everything.
how i will love you: you will not hear from me on the worst nights, because sadness makes my words go silent. you will have to hunt for the evidence that i’m ready to die in fractured unsure sentences that are entirely devoid of light. you will know me for my tidal waves: that i pull back into my ocean entirely before i spill over and ruin everything. i cannot commit you to being my anchor. i will hide from you and think that this is how i save you.
how i will love you: one day i will tell you about where the scars are from and we will count them. there will be a lot more than you can see because not all of my scars are on the outside of me. and if after this you can still kiss me in all honesty, i will tie together universes to bring you whatever you want or need.
how i will love you: my hands will shake and sometimes i will come apart at the seams. you will probably occasionally wonder if the world will end before i stop talking. i will steal all of your comfy clothing. i will try to adopt more plants than you feel comfortable owning. i will occasionally demand silence while i pick a corner and read. i cannot promise i will be perfect or even close to the person that you need. i can only say that when i’m having cake, i will save you the last piece.how i will love you: entirely. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
You used to believe in this city of miracles,
but that was three heartbreaks ago.
it’s been sleeping with the windows open
hoping someone will hear
your heart breaking
from three doors down.
it’s been thinking too long about
cashiers who ask you how your day’s been and
tell you to stay safe.
it’s been setting the sky on fire
and dancing in the ash that follows.
it’s been poetry you can’t understand
and poetry that rips you apart in the wrong places.
staying up at night to talk to your oldest mistake,
when you swear you’re just praying
When you swear you’ve
moved beyond all of that.
I will not set fire to myself
to keep you warm.