poem: LOVE ;; ficlet: STORMS
check playlist at bottom of entry for appropriate listening ;;
---
the scene was nearly perfect:
you [alone] scratching at compact
disc labels and the back of your
head; you were almost invinsible.
i was preforated along the edges,
like the magazine subscription
cards [that] littered the floor
beneath your bed and shaky hands.
"infinity?" you asked, hesitant
of the answer, and i murmured a
slow "forever." content, we for-
got about social niceties and just
breathed.
---
The storm broke against the coast - violent, unforgiving. The sheets of grey rain pounded the frail windows and I, waking from a nightmare of death and envy, struggled to remember where I was. A bolt of lighting etched itself across the sky, a temporary reminder of the hurricane coming. The east coast never shone so brightly as it did in storm season, I remembered saying, but I just as quickly dismissed that thought. You had never agreed with my sentiments - the storm was a vile thing, worthy of being loathed and nothing more.
We never agreed on many things, but whether it was because we truly held different views or one of us just enjoyed being difficult. Maybe it was I who was difficult, maybe it was you - I never thought twice on the subject after we agreed to not mention it to each other again. Was it you or was it myself who constructed these barriers between us? I couldn't remember. Did you remember?
The hardwood floor was slick beneath my feet, and the doorknob cool to the touch. I pressed the tips of my fingers to the glass door and let out a sigh. I wished this was the only barrier between the world and I, a fragile glass door that could easily shatter if the correct amount of force was applied. This wish, among others, was futile and harsh sobs racked my body as I slid to the floor, hands pressed tightly to the door in a weak attempt at escape.
As always, my tears woke you from your slumber and you padded your way to me. Your hands reached and tore at my skin - what you thought was gentle; all I could think was stop. You paused, your stance belying the fact I knew you were offended by my flinches and whimpers. Words did not seem adequate to me, and you were the first to break the silence.
"Annie-" If you had known me better, you would have remembered that I detested that nickname much like I detested your voice. "Annie, come back to bed."
The words flowed off your tongue, cold and bitter, and I couldn't help but shiver. This was the barrier between us, I thought, you were the barrier the whole time. I may have been the cause, but I'd be damned if you blamed the rift on me. You were the one pushing us apart and though I loathed you, I loved you.
Neither of us spoke, we didn't have to - the storm held the conversation for us. If asked about this night, later on, I would smile and shake my head. I would claim I never loved you, even though we both knew that was untrue. You let out a resigned sigh and pushed the door open, the hinges screeching like they hadn't been used in years. That we could agree on, that was true.
Were you the one pushing down the barrier, closing our rift? I couldn't be sure, but I searched your eyes and searched and searched and searched. I never found anything, but as the rain clung to my skin and washed the grime from my soul, I looked back guiltily. Was I leaving you behind? You allowed a lazy smile to curl onto your face and the clouds cleared. As I stood there, soaked, you knew the irony like the back of your hand. It didn't matter, however. Soon we were hand in hand against the coast, face to face with the rest of the world and I knew - I knew - that even storms would never break us.
---
playlist ;;
'cosmopolitan' - nine black alps
'how to save a life' - the fray
'chasing cars' - snow patrol
'anna molly' - incubus
'ride the wings of pestilence' - from first to last
'work' - jars of clay
'morning yearning' - ben harper *
'and we all return to our roots' - the forecast
*listen while reading STORMS
---
I hope you enjoyed reading both of these. I can't say I enjoyed writing them, they were hard to put to paper and the pulled at the strings that connect my head to my heart to my soul. These hurt to write, but I am more than pleased with the outcome.
Have a happy holiday -
xoxo
elizabeth.
---
the scene was nearly perfect:
you [alone] scratching at compact
disc labels and the back of your
head; you were almost invinsible.
i was preforated along the edges,
like the magazine subscription
cards [that] littered the floor
beneath your bed and shaky hands.
"infinity?" you asked, hesitant
of the answer, and i murmured a
slow "forever." content, we for-
got about social niceties and just
breathed.
---
The storm broke against the coast - violent, unforgiving. The sheets of grey rain pounded the frail windows and I, waking from a nightmare of death and envy, struggled to remember where I was. A bolt of lighting etched itself across the sky, a temporary reminder of the hurricane coming. The east coast never shone so brightly as it did in storm season, I remembered saying, but I just as quickly dismissed that thought. You had never agreed with my sentiments - the storm was a vile thing, worthy of being loathed and nothing more.
We never agreed on many things, but whether it was because we truly held different views or one of us just enjoyed being difficult. Maybe it was I who was difficult, maybe it was you - I never thought twice on the subject after we agreed to not mention it to each other again. Was it you or was it myself who constructed these barriers between us? I couldn't remember. Did you remember?
The hardwood floor was slick beneath my feet, and the doorknob cool to the touch. I pressed the tips of my fingers to the glass door and let out a sigh. I wished this was the only barrier between the world and I, a fragile glass door that could easily shatter if the correct amount of force was applied. This wish, among others, was futile and harsh sobs racked my body as I slid to the floor, hands pressed tightly to the door in a weak attempt at escape.
As always, my tears woke you from your slumber and you padded your way to me. Your hands reached and tore at my skin - what you thought was gentle; all I could think was stop. You paused, your stance belying the fact I knew you were offended by my flinches and whimpers. Words did not seem adequate to me, and you were the first to break the silence.
"Annie-" If you had known me better, you would have remembered that I detested that nickname much like I detested your voice. "Annie, come back to bed."
The words flowed off your tongue, cold and bitter, and I couldn't help but shiver. This was the barrier between us, I thought, you were the barrier the whole time. I may have been the cause, but I'd be damned if you blamed the rift on me. You were the one pushing us apart and though I loathed you, I loved you.
Neither of us spoke, we didn't have to - the storm held the conversation for us. If asked about this night, later on, I would smile and shake my head. I would claim I never loved you, even though we both knew that was untrue. You let out a resigned sigh and pushed the door open, the hinges screeching like they hadn't been used in years. That we could agree on, that was true.
Were you the one pushing down the barrier, closing our rift? I couldn't be sure, but I searched your eyes and searched and searched and searched. I never found anything, but as the rain clung to my skin and washed the grime from my soul, I looked back guiltily. Was I leaving you behind? You allowed a lazy smile to curl onto your face and the clouds cleared. As I stood there, soaked, you knew the irony like the back of your hand. It didn't matter, however. Soon we were hand in hand against the coast, face to face with the rest of the world and I knew - I knew - that even storms would never break us.
---
playlist ;;
'cosmopolitan' - nine black alps
'how to save a life' - the fray
'chasing cars' - snow patrol
'anna molly' - incubus
'ride the wings of pestilence' - from first to last
'work' - jars of clay
'morning yearning' - ben harper *
'and we all return to our roots' - the forecast
*listen while reading STORMS
---
I hope you enjoyed reading both of these. I can't say I enjoyed writing them, they were hard to put to paper and the pulled at the strings that connect my head to my heart to my soul. These hurt to write, but I am more than pleased with the outcome.
Have a happy holiday -
xoxo
elizabeth.