(no subject)
My room is filled with dying moths, my mouth is full of spluttering coughs, and my skin is a cracked, overexposed earth. My heart is a bruised nectarine that was squeezed carelessly by a child. Its sweetness odors the air and you know decay is near.
This year I learn love. I learn excitement, empathy, and the desire of my body. I learn stories and listening and speaking. I learn his face and voice and the desire of his body. I learn inspiration. I learn walking in a pair and paths to share. I make plans for us. I learn closeness. I learn duets and late nights. I sleep beside him. I barely sleep. I learn hope and the fear of my heart. I listen for the hope and fear of his heart. The hope and fear of his heart become mine.
This year I learn the arts of unrequited love. I learn unsleepable nights and fights upon fights with my own judgment; second, third, and fourth guesses. I yearn. I learn slights and oversights. I learn madness. Locura! Locura! I barter moments of mania for pangs upon pangs. I barter until I can barter no more. The market is empty, and I’ve lost my voice. I mutter to myself. I am sick. The canary in my throat is half-strangling and there is no gold in there. Now I swallow pills.
I learn the arts of unrequited love. I learn watching, waiting, the flickerless screen. I learn silence. I yearn. I watch, I wait, I make no plans. I learn disappointment. I learn afar. I barely sleep. I am sick. My head is thick. I compare myself to others. I compare others to him. I rehearse speeches. I abandon speeches. I learn how big my heart can be. I learn how small my heart can be.
Like physicians or physicists they say the only cure is time and space. I listen, nod seriously, eat vegetables, and lie upon couches. I try not to lie. I sleep by myself. I am beside myself. I barely sleep. On couches, in cafes, on phones, and in text, I loiter and tear. My friends become my analysts. I am sick, but I go to the doctor. I sing Spanish songs of damnation and thanks and embarrassment and shadows. I look, I read, I think. I make plans for myself. I sing, I draw, I write.
I look, I read, I think.
I sing, I draw, I write.
I speak.
I make plans for myself.
This year I learn love. I learn excitement, empathy, and the desire of my body. I learn stories and listening and speaking. I learn his face and voice and the desire of his body. I learn inspiration. I learn walking in a pair and paths to share. I make plans for us. I learn closeness. I learn duets and late nights. I sleep beside him. I barely sleep. I learn hope and the fear of my heart. I listen for the hope and fear of his heart. The hope and fear of his heart become mine.
This year I learn the arts of unrequited love. I learn unsleepable nights and fights upon fights with my own judgment; second, third, and fourth guesses. I yearn. I learn slights and oversights. I learn madness. Locura! Locura! I barter moments of mania for pangs upon pangs. I barter until I can barter no more. The market is empty, and I’ve lost my voice. I mutter to myself. I am sick. The canary in my throat is half-strangling and there is no gold in there. Now I swallow pills.
I learn the arts of unrequited love. I learn watching, waiting, the flickerless screen. I learn silence. I yearn. I watch, I wait, I make no plans. I learn disappointment. I learn afar. I barely sleep. I am sick. My head is thick. I compare myself to others. I compare others to him. I rehearse speeches. I abandon speeches. I learn how big my heart can be. I learn how small my heart can be.
Like physicians or physicists they say the only cure is time and space. I listen, nod seriously, eat vegetables, and lie upon couches. I try not to lie. I sleep by myself. I am beside myself. I barely sleep. On couches, in cafes, on phones, and in text, I loiter and tear. My friends become my analysts. I am sick, but I go to the doctor. I sing Spanish songs of damnation and thanks and embarrassment and shadows. I look, I read, I think. I make plans for myself. I sing, I draw, I write.
I look, I read, I think.
I sing, I draw, I write.
I speak.
I make plans for myself.