I fell
I shattered I broke . . . and now I'm paralyzed fractured scattered weak unable to collect myself . scared that some pieces are lost, that some will continue to break, and that some just won't fit anymore.
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sparkling eyes
glittery laughs happy hearts she thinks it's love she knows it's love she hopes it's love his height his laugh his eyes his voice him she tells herself this has to be it there can't be anyone past him if it feels right, then it is right she imagines calling him baby having him there next to her always he's all she ever wanted but . . . she's not all he ever wanted so all the "meant to be's" trickle down m a e ' s o t b n e t losing meaning losing touch she's heard of heartbreak but now she feels it it's a screaming pain incessant obsessive posessive excessive . . . temporary it'll start to fade she can only hold on to imagination for so long and when she lets go, she'll see that it was never meant to be if he never felt it . so she'll move on because the sooner she moves on, the sooner she'll find the one The earnest asks "Now that you've won, do you feel fulfilled?"
There is no hesitation in my "no." Swiveling in this anesthetic comfort. My fingers run through my hair, my fingers type, my fingers sway, my mind melts. And the only sensation left is the chill of a fading mint.
I remember when I was 9 and on the school bus and everyone was looking out the window because there was an airplane.
And being old enough to be skeptical but young enough to leak through the walls we built, for a split second we thought the airplane was suspended in air with no direction to go. Took only a moment for us to realize that it was because the airplane was headed north and we were headed south, kind of cancelling each other's movements in the other's perspective. And amongst the chaos of memories that evade my recollection, this one I can't forget. And it bothers me because I don't remember why I find comfort in a bowl of melting vanilla ice cream, I don't remember why I hate licking envelopes, I don't remember how I got the scar above my eye, I don't even remember the last time I cried, but I remember when I was 9 and on the school bus and everyone was looking out the window because there was an airplane. (narrator grows older) |
"I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are."
-Alice Kingsley Archives
September 2020
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