The world is all bending and breaking from me
Lost Notes To Someones Self:
Why do I keep returning to this? This horrible car wreck. This moment in time, frozen forever. A gravestone. A mile marker. Something I will never get past. A constant reminder kept around so as to always remember: "I fucked up". I want to feel your hands. Strange, I want to touch your skin and feel home again. So many things we should have talked about. In a lifetime I could not find the courage to carve out the words trapped in my lungs. Choking on the most simple of statements. A beautiful love.
Cold winter day. Mid February. Awoke. Sound of an alarm echoing throughout the house. Late for work. No, just won't go in today. Last night wanting so badly to sleep in the snow. Now hiding inside from the blustery air. The gas station is out of smokes. The good kind, anyway. Settling for grandma's brand. 100's. The long burn. Waiting on something. Someone. To break this ungraceful silence. How the music barely fills the space, making the silence seem more impregnable. Saturnity that falls over this apartment, only suffocates the sound of my own breath. My heartbeat drowning in this whiteout, blurring all words. Time now when everything seems so distant from my fingertips. The world pulling away. And I in turn pushing with all my might. So as to not be found out. So as not to incite curiousity in strangers. To keep questions to a bare minimum. The smile. The laugh. The movements staged so perfectly.
Why do I keep returning to this? This horrible car wreck. This moment in time, frozen forever. A gravestone. A mile marker. Something I will never get past. A constant reminder kept around so as to always remember: "I fucked up". I want to feel your hands. Strange, I want to touch your skin and feel home again. So many things we should have talked about. In a lifetime I could not find the courage to carve out the words trapped in my lungs. Choking on the most simple of statements. A beautiful love.
Cold winter day. Mid February. Awoke. Sound of an alarm echoing throughout the house. Late for work. No, just won't go in today. Last night wanting so badly to sleep in the snow. Now hiding inside from the blustery air. The gas station is out of smokes. The good kind, anyway. Settling for grandma's brand. 100's. The long burn. Waiting on something. Someone. To break this ungraceful silence. How the music barely fills the space, making the silence seem more impregnable. Saturnity that falls over this apartment, only suffocates the sound of my own breath. My heartbeat drowning in this whiteout, blurring all words. Time now when everything seems so distant from my fingertips. The world pulling away. And I in turn pushing with all my might. So as to not be found out. So as not to incite curiousity in strangers. To keep questions to a bare minimum. The smile. The laugh. The movements staged so perfectly.