do you really?
yes i do.

i want so much to capture the harsh stillness of silence that can only be measured in heartbeats. all you can hear are the crescendos of your breathing and your heart beating out of your chest. i long to hold the way the sunlight bends through the curtains and dances its way across the hardwood floor. if i could, i would keep that look you get in your eyes in my pocket, you know, the look that makes my stomach drop and my heart beat fast. i want to paint my walls with the beauty and distress broken glass causes when it shatters across the floor. each fragment catching a ray of light or an unfortunate shade of red as you carefully tiptoe across your room, regretting the fact that you remained shoeless amidst the inanimate battlefield your broken bottle has created.

i wake up in a blind stare, rubbing my eyes without gaining focus. all i see is the blurry picture of sunlight bending its way in between the mismanaged blinds. the light is scattered across my floor like broken glass, piercing my feet with its coldness. i have goosebumps on my bare skin and i swear i can see my breath as i walk across the hardwood floor. i feel like i'm stranded inside of my head and all i want to do is be back where i was before. i long to be consistent and worthwhile. pry into my mind and try to understand me, i'm sick of trying to understand everyone and everything that doesn't make the least bit of sense and i'm tired of  everything being lackluster, including me. i am thoroughly uninteresting.

shortness of breath

i remember things like the way you don't sit up straight, the way light bends around your shadow, the face of the stranger that smiled when i walked by. i don't want to forget how it feels to have my skin exposed when the blanket doesn't cover my toes or the way it feels to turn over the pillow in the middle of the night. i want to capture all of these moments, as simple or enigmatic as they may be. i want to collect not only the memories, but feelings to which they're connected.

 i'm starting to believe that my dreams are mocking me. i wake up rolling my eyes. i can't move out of this position because my cat's purring in her sleep, cuddled up in the nook my bent legs have made. after ridding my eyes of their morning blur, i can place my focus on the little universe your freckles make on the skin of your shoulders, placing my fingers on the different constellations i find.

so let the sun shine in and i'll tell the time by the shadows in between your ribs and spine