imaginary arms
the tick. tock. tick. tock. that i hear faintly from across the room, no longer matches the beating of the heart shaped organ that resides inside my concave chest. and i'm not sure if my flesh will close in around itself, and my ribs crack and pierce this heart for one last moment of pain. it all feels so distant. the emotions and the feelings. like the sound from the clock, if i breathe to loudly i almost cant hear. if i breathe at all i'm probably doing myself no favors.
and the world is all white. with slight swirls of green, where the burning orange has melted away even the coldest of things to reveal once again the color, that was actually hidden for a small while. and i appreciate it all the more now it comes back slightly. but still, the world, at least what i can see of it right now. is laced in a thin layer of white. making the darkness of this room stand out even more in my head. and when you reach out to touch the pure innocent color. it feel cold. like glass. and my hand spreads outwards, my fingers extending and i try to touch your face but i can only do it with words. the words between you and me and this screen.
& maybe i should draw a picture of the sun, and a rainbow and no clouds and tape it to the inside of my eyelids. so that way i can pretend that everything is perfect, and everything is fine. and maybe i can draw myself in the picture too. my hand holding yours. so when i sleep at night, or at least try to. i'll never sleep alone again.
you know that reflection in the mirror will never change if you dont.
my arms have that now familiar feeling within them again once more. i've learnt to recognise it now. that heavy feeling. like the bones have turned to lead. its the feeling that i get when i just want to reach out and hold someone so tightly that my shoulder blades ache. its would be nothing compared to the pain they feel when they're empty.
and the sky is so dark. but not black. blue. like the deepest part of a river, or a lake. where a princess would throw her magical ball and a frog would help her retrieve it. and she'd kiss his cheek. but be totally unsure about it. but feel the need, even though he is ugly. and then he'd turn into a handsome prince, and she'd swear it was the best thing she ever did. because after all she could never have loved the frog.
there's an empty bed behind me. just over my shoulder. if i turn my head slightly i can see it. decked in blue. that slab, where i lie awake at night and think of all the things i've never done and never had. and all the heartaches i've felt, and all of the boys that have never kissed me, and all of the girls that have never kissed me. and all of the 'i love you's' i've never heard. and the hands i've never held. and it actually is no longer a bed. its a tomb, a coffin. a place where i lay when things are over, or may as well be.
and its not warm. and it doesn't feel safe. but sometimes i lie there and i close my eyes so tight. and i can almost picture, almost feel, strong arms wrapped around my waist. and it turns back into a bed again, until i realise that the whole thing is imaginary. and there's no one there to hold me, and no one there for me to wake up next to. there's just a white wall. and a window.
& everything just seems so empty, and loveless and pointless.
and the world is all white. with slight swirls of green, where the burning orange has melted away even the coldest of things to reveal once again the color, that was actually hidden for a small while. and i appreciate it all the more now it comes back slightly. but still, the world, at least what i can see of it right now. is laced in a thin layer of white. making the darkness of this room stand out even more in my head. and when you reach out to touch the pure innocent color. it feel cold. like glass. and my hand spreads outwards, my fingers extending and i try to touch your face but i can only do it with words. the words between you and me and this screen.
& maybe i should draw a picture of the sun, and a rainbow and no clouds and tape it to the inside of my eyelids. so that way i can pretend that everything is perfect, and everything is fine. and maybe i can draw myself in the picture too. my hand holding yours. so when i sleep at night, or at least try to. i'll never sleep alone again.
you know that reflection in the mirror will never change if you dont.
my arms have that now familiar feeling within them again once more. i've learnt to recognise it now. that heavy feeling. like the bones have turned to lead. its the feeling that i get when i just want to reach out and hold someone so tightly that my shoulder blades ache. its would be nothing compared to the pain they feel when they're empty.
and the sky is so dark. but not black. blue. like the deepest part of a river, or a lake. where a princess would throw her magical ball and a frog would help her retrieve it. and she'd kiss his cheek. but be totally unsure about it. but feel the need, even though he is ugly. and then he'd turn into a handsome prince, and she'd swear it was the best thing she ever did. because after all she could never have loved the frog.
there's an empty bed behind me. just over my shoulder. if i turn my head slightly i can see it. decked in blue. that slab, where i lie awake at night and think of all the things i've never done and never had. and all the heartaches i've felt, and all of the boys that have never kissed me, and all of the girls that have never kissed me. and all of the 'i love you's' i've never heard. and the hands i've never held. and it actually is no longer a bed. its a tomb, a coffin. a place where i lay when things are over, or may as well be.
and its not warm. and it doesn't feel safe. but sometimes i lie there and i close my eyes so tight. and i can almost picture, almost feel, strong arms wrapped around my waist. and it turns back into a bed again, until i realise that the whole thing is imaginary. and there's no one there to hold me, and no one there for me to wake up next to. there's just a white wall. and a window.
& everything just seems so empty, and loveless and pointless.