He is...

"I feel invincible"

Like Lucy in the sky. That was the majority of my weekend, who I was anyway. There's something restless that will eat at me for days, and I was hoping it could disappear somewhere here, with him. I bet the walrus weights so much, but we'd love him anyway. You're only as high as you fall. I would bet my life on that. The way we tangle, and fit. The way a kiss is always a little more than just that, the cheesiness of it all. There is still this wall of something. Like strength almost, because after today I might need it.

Don't be naive, and don't forgive. Please don't let me learn that lesson again. I don't want to walk into disappointment, I don't want to know its meaning anymore. Let me forget what it feels like to be cut down by the one thing you trusted to keep you up. Don't be like me. I would love to keep you in bed all day, soaked in dreams and perspired knees. But I can't promise to ever know where to put you afterwards. You can be the hallelujah in my mattress, but outside of it I can barely fit into my own skin. I want you to feel like the king of every sense and blood vessel. Every nerve. I would make love to you until the pillows didn't shade the sun, until clocks learned to work. Baby, with time you will see how well I can break. But the scariest part is realizing how well I could break you. A task that will go forever undone. Just keep me in your blankets, away from your past.

"I love you, always. Time is nothing"

I almost find it sad, the way writers instinctually feel as though everyone likes being written about. I mean, that isn't my purpose of posting, just a mere case and point thing. You can't assume someone wants you to rip open your feelings about them on page, but you do it, because it's all you know how to do really. All I really know how to do is write, and not even significantly, or at least consistently well. 

Some days its hard to breath without it, others it's impossible to imagine ever having it at all. They all knew somehow, even when I didn't. They knew where my head was, my heart, I guess. I wonder if it's all that obvious anymore. I like to pretend that monumental perfection wouldn't exist anywhere beyond where it is now. What could have been always seems a lot better than what is. 

I wish I'd let myself be cut open again. I wish someone would try as hard. I wish I found happiness in the utterance of my name, comfort in the way someone could stay all night. I wish the granted I'd taken could come back to feed me, but once you bite that hand it isn't likely to return in your favor. I forget how to sleep now.

when you smile

I have found the core of ignorance, the best manageable way of pretending something never happened. There is a place you get in your life where it just isn't about you anymore, where shit actually matters and what you say and do is attached to strings. He will pull on them as hard as he can until you forget what'll happen to the other side if you bend at all his way. I cannot cut these strings. They are held with such unexpected graces that risking them with no option is painful itself. 

Why now? Why when there is so much to lose no matter where I turn. I don't want to hurt you anymore. Least of all do I want my happiness to be the cause. I wake up, terrified of my own skin, scared of how well my wall will choose to crack today. I'm weak in the strongest of ways. I need that trust again, the solemn instance where my life is set so concretely that being myself is all left to do. 

I bend backwards for all of you. I bend to fit wherever your smile is, because I don't know how to hurt anyone that may save me someday. No one ever broke it down like him, at least not where I was aware enough for it to scare me. I never knew what fragile meant. "You must risk being completely cut open", and the risk alone has led to my fear of such things. He admitted that he could, that he might, that he likely. 

Everyone needs everything in the way that it doesn't need them. It's science almost. The hope of want is unbearable. The want in skin and lips and nerves. Goddamn I'm nervous, so much lately. How do I react with your hands pressed into your eyes and your words hanging desperately in my silence. How do I know what to say to the one thing I'd never expected to hear, the one thing you knew could make me think. "I say that I don't think you're happy, because I hope you're not happy". That was the only warning, from then on you knew the questions would pour, you knew I'd have to hear it. 

My head is gone away from you, it forgot and it lost whatever it had. You're so good at making me believe you, the mind trick of how I feel about you. It isn't there, there is something else for me and it's great. It's really fucking great. Please don't take that away, please.