Sunday, 25 November 2012

Winter winds.

Isn't it so that time disturbs most everything?

More than anything, I fear putting myself within your grasp because time has a terrible habit of sweeping me away before anyone else can.

And yet it seems that love unused burns the strongest and the longest.
Self-portrait
I think, if you took me back to that night, when you brushed my forehead with your lips with whispered words for only my hearing, forcing things to change, I think, I would have answered you differently. But who can know?

Time keeps ticking forward and this story is buried in the past.

S. 

Sunday, 18 November 2012

Breakable.

I am not gentle with the heart - 
I do not want to hold one. 
I do not long, like others, to share mine - 
To find someone to trade with. 

I want, still, to wander free. 
I do not want to claim an aching pulse, or be responsible for steady beatings -
Because who can run with so precious and delicate a thing?
I want only to roam; whole and alone.
Your heart would be too heavy a thing to carry,
When I leave. Again. 
And my own heart, yes. It would be missed, still in your grasp,
When we go our separate ways. (We will)

You see, a heart is a difficult thing to give and then take back.
It does not move cleanly, from chest to palm to chest. 
It gets damaged in the process. Torn.
And they all say that it's worth it. But it's not.

I am not gentle with your heart.
Because I cannot hold it.
Though, desperately, I wish I could,
Choose it, instead of fear. 

S.

Thursday, 15 November 2012

Wednesday, 14 November 2012

Grasp.

"I think she was afraid to love sometimes. I think it scared her. She was the type to like things that are concrete, like the ocean. Something you could point to and know what it was. I think that's why she always struggled with God. And I think that’s why she struggled with love. She couldn't touch it. She couldn't hold on to it and make sure it never changed."
"Sometimes it's those things you can't touch that you need to hold on to the most."
Carrie Ryan

Sunday, 11 November 2012

Broken radio.

You found me wandering, alone, dead of night; seriously considering crashing on a bench on the side of the road. Not for any grand reason, only because no place felt right, so a wrong one would do just fine, thank you.

But it wasn't fine for you, because you came for me. Scooped me up from the pavement with a quick laugh to cover over worried eyes. I was an inconvenience. But still, you didn't seem to mind. 
We drove to the next town. And when that wasn't enough, we drove through two towns more. We drove past the house I didn't want to be in, and you didn't stop. You didn't even ask. Maybe you could tell from the way my body went rigid and my breath held, but you knew that it wasn't yet time. We kept going. Another town, another box-full of half secrets. Letting the car saturate with all the words unsaid. 

And I have more to thank you for than a long nighttime drive. I owe more to you than gas money. 
You know more of me than I'm used to, but I could get used to you. 

S. 

Thursday, 8 November 2012

Subtleties.

I didn't want to kiss you goodbye,
that was the trouble,
I wanted to kiss you goodnight.
Abandon
Ernest Hemingway

Saturday, 3 November 2012

Cold Coffee.

He leaned in and kissed her ear before leaving. Stirring her awake with his I love you's. 
She couldn't help but think, if he really loved her, he would let her sleep. 
S. 
{Photo via: We Heart It}