depression Blog and Journals

You cut the strings that held my dreams hanging from the ceiling, and you laughed as they flutter to the floor around my feet. tiny, hopeless butterflies, whose wings have been ripped and torn. my hands will catch them. i will keep them safe away like a kiss in the corner of a mouth. and you will keep your goodnight light on where ever you go. you say that you have been keeping secrets, like printed paper bills behind the thickest concrete walls you’d ever see. But you must be unaware of the fact, that my head is a hammer and my heart is a bolt. dig me in deep. i want love in all the wrong places, from all the wrong faces. It will only take one hit and i will have you back on my team. you are restless, and i am patient...or maybe it is the other way around. flip the reversal and serenade the pitcher. things will come around, i make my own stories. I got a mouth full of pills i was suppose to swallow and a handful of dreams you were suppose to only borrow now I’ve figured it out, the difference between sobriety and I. It is similar to the way you speak, quietly insincere and mildly oppressing. it seems, more and more, that I am quickly loosing my mind at the slowest of speeds. i am the underdog, time to place your bets against me. You were the first face i ever saw clearly. To me you were infinite in yourself. You were clever, handsome, and most importantly, gloriously, gloriously, infamous. I was simply a child in your eyes, or at least that is how you seemed to think of me. I was clumsy, foolish, and ignorant. A mess of a girl with bad and troublesome ideas. That was the summer i grew into my skin and grew out of my mind. I loved every disorganized and chaotic moment of it. You came to me with a sideways kind of smile and undeniable green eyes that continually ran circles around my head. Your mouth, always rolling out softly spoken insults and backwards compliments, used to write letters across my skin. lately, you have not been sending as many as you formerly promised. I miss you from above. i miss you from below. I miss how you used to care about what i wanted, craved, and needed. I want to take you back into the forest where you carved our initials into the soft bark of a birch tree. Back to when you wanted me, craved me, and needed me. I want you to pull me back to you and hold me. [put your black people lips to use, ha] i am now saying this. i will not repeat it. i refuse to let you be captured by any other girl. you belong with me. i was made to fit you. lust only gets you so far, and we have so many things to learn, so many questions that we have left to find. Im loosing myself in order to win you over, but i will sing you every song i know, every song i have ever heard, if it would get you to stay. Backs built arches made from kisses placed on hips and necks. You felt the heat and the deliberate slowness of my words. and that was all it took. i do not understand why it takes so very long to convince you to do things, that once you are in the middle of, you do not want to stop. sometimes i don’t believe the things you say. sometimes i believe that you are trying to convince yourself more then me. it is frustrating, to say the least. i believe that contradiction is your best friend. On occasion, i feel it is your only friend. you claim to be a poet, someone thickly engrossed in vivacity, nature, and impulse, but i have yet to witness any of these things come forth from your veins. see, you are a needle, dipped in ink. you have tattooed yourself into my skin. it was done unprofessionally, so there are chances it might not last for the rest of my life, and i will have to get another to cover up the scar it might leave, but that is okay. Right now, i believe it is the most beautiful idea to ever have imprinted in my skin. you said, "I'll be leaving someday, then what will you say? Can you delay my heart enough to keep me from claiming a window seat next to a stranger, one hundred feet above the ground? I need someone i can love. You are seventeen, so young. And in a couple of years I'll want a family, and where will you be?" but the question is really, where will you be? you are an earthquake that swims in my chest. don’t sleep.