we were never meant to be. you take your coffee black and i remember your hands wrapped around a cup when you broke that news. my fingers were frozen vines twined around my own iced vanilla, crushing that stupid plastic, wanting to reach out and ask you what the hell i even meant to you.
remember when you clutched me on our last day together? i held you as you cried, all our near-kisses rushed back to my lips and i wanted to love all your pain away. i wondered how such a strong woman—the one that put her face close to mine and dared me to push her away—could leave tearstains on my sweater.
you were getting over your last love and i wanted to replace her. i wanted to show you my wisteria touch, let you know that i’d always be there. some part of me was convinced you loved me—i chased that potential for an entire summer, no matter the fact that i’d never share an art class with you again. there’d be no second chance for me to kiss you when you pinned me up against the wall.
you left me in the lamplight outside of that cafe. there were tearstains on my sweater, but as you walked away i realized they were my own.
happiness never really sticks for me-- I assume it is like the snow in my hometown, melting into the grass as soon as it hits the ground and disappearing without a trace by the next morning.
see, now writing feels like manual labor, sharp pen-strokes flowing into indecipherable lines, smooth as the ocean waves and the milky clouds.
i beg some unforgiving god for an ounce of my so-called dignity back; please, dear god, what did i do and how can i ever repay this invisible debt it seems i owe?
the same old static courses through my body, replacing the adrenaline i felt when i kissed her, it flows through my veins thick like honey. my hands shake, is this a foreign substance?
that dewdrop smile of yours seems to light up my entire existence. you know i tend towards being cloudy grey but somehow the way you touch me is the outer banks' night sky-- clear and world changing. i remember watching it for the first time, the way i lost my breath, and somehow your eyes give me that same deep-cutting feeling.
our love is an abyss of emotion. you sliced right into my soul and healed it gently, it only took a few words.
law of conservation of pain: my suffering cannot be created nor destroyed. it comes from a monster inside of me that wasn’t always mine, but throughout the years i’ve accumulated it from all the the little things—the minor frustrations, the small fights. those unresolved emotions stuck around, balled up into my chest and combined with the next struggle. pain doesnt disappear into thin air when you say it out loud or you write it down, it’s merely transferred. it doesn’t come from nowhere either, there’s a reason, a reason you want to forget exists. you want to say it’s a random pang in your heart or a just-because panic attack, but it’ll always be for a reason—you don’t want to admit it, and neither do i. but guess what, it’s not a theory, it’s a law, and that means that our pain will always abide by it. i won’t know why. but it will. perhaps someday i’ll find out. science is an ever-changing art.
keep writing, i can’t wait to read more
