Greek gods and slutty promise
I stalked the night and I was once again afraid of who I was becoming. I felt so alone. So inept. I could almost taste the freedom that reconnecting to the outside world would bring. I was ready to stop being so alone. Ready to stop feeling so torn about by empty promises. I was tired tonight, so I drank iced coffee at midnight. I waited for the time of the night in which you feel like speaking. Where the night goes still and the light flees. I waited because even though I’m tired, your words light up my night. Flashes of text across my phone and I am elated. I know that this isn’t easy for you. I know that you are scared and I’m nervous too. I know that we are afraid of colliding and causing more damage. You had a dream that you fell from the sky, you flew. When I fell you let me hit the pavement. I felt like Hades, guarding dead promises. You were Persephone. Strong willed and sharp angles. I felt like I was tricking you everyday to keep you with me. You had already eaten the seeds, did you know that they would keep us tied together. Were you hoping to appease me? I called into the dark shadows. You might be meek, you may be mild. But I can see you holding back a hellhound, who's wild. The rage that you could unleash would devour us both. What you couldn't see was I too held a hound of my own. Gnawing at the air and spitting the venom I had filled it with. Would they clash or fight side by side? I stalked the night and I once again was afraid of who I was becoming.
Here You Go.
If only I knew how to write a love poem about flaws. About the grandeur of envy and the flight of haphazard plans going nowhere. A real human experience, made of openness and tenderness. A connection between two people, whose only goals were to make beautiful art and create their own world together. She was a solar eclipse, blocking the sunlight when she needed the time away. Facing away from the world. Her own broken parts, long since fixed. Held together by duct tape and rubber bands. She looked in the mirror some days and couldn’t remember what she looked like before the pain, the anguish. Letting go of the anger of the past. Making way for the good that had to come next, from all the rubbish that they had been through alone. Littering the streets with regrets, triumph in all her glory. She was the world to me, I had always written before about her peaks, unable to find the faults. I saw the cracks in her surface clear as day. I saw the times she cried out in pain and I wanted to hold her in the night. Wanted to share her pain.