coldscars

rain has stopped but water keeps dropping in a single spot outside my bedroom window a steady rhythm tempting sleep I keep avoiding for no good reason except yearning always the yearning

I sit by the window and knit the light slowly dimming still enough to see you sit with me with a book and a cup of tea your mind is busy but your heart is here my feet on your lap your idle hand gently on me just before dark your eyes find mine and with a subtle smile you set the book aside

soft and comfy they are in their little bubble the world around can keep moving and it does always moving they're just two dots together slowly swaying amidst the chaos

the dark clouds follow me but won't give me rain to hide my tears I consider taking the longer route that narrow path deeper into the woods walk to the farthest point scream, then wonder how far will my lake carry my grief?

I don't want to perform this life I don't want to participate in the attempts to distract me from feeling I don't want to hold it together I don't want to hold myself together but no one else will no one else will

it feels wrong that I can leave my plate unsupervised on the table it feels wrong that the pet store is having a sale and I can't go pick a new toy it feels wrong that I can leave the house and not have a reason to hurry back it feels wrong that in the dark I try to see the shape of a sleeping dog and then remember

I burrow my hand into the thick fur on the back of your neck you relax and breathe a long sigh of relief we've come a long way since the days you let out a tiny growl when I tried to hug you and the days I cried exhausted from all your shenanigans when I picked you up as a puppy you had bite marks on your tiny head and I thought: "poor baby's been bullied must be the runt of the litter" only to see very soon you were the fiery one all along with the coolest star shape on your chest you were the…

I can't do this again sit here shattered met with nothing but cold the same pain but not shared not carried together even if I try and try and try and cry, finally how dare I make this about me

the moment where sadness shouldn't be present that hurt I can't share no one can carry it for me I lock the door and hold my breath you have taken another piece of me whistling while I gather myself

the nights are getting darker I try not to think about it the air feels like a shift away from summer already, again and I'm still here time is cruel, it won't stop not even for a moment it's a train refusing to wait that I gather the courage and jump aboard

the pine soap bursts in a bright white foam under bare feet disappearing prints on soaking wet cotton weave arms tender, knees sore a persistent horse fly as company I'm seven again helping the best I can the smell of pine soap sticking to skin even though the lake soon calls to me as it does and I answer as I do

1 a.m. falling asleep on one side of the bed my head full of silence I have to learn how to send my most vivid images through the distance instead

all this talk about feasts has me hungry and whatever I have at home won't be enough that one crucial chomp will stay missing

I sink my toes in sand and think of you collect a pebble think of you again gather my skirt and walk in the water still thinking of you I can't shake you like the dried sand between my toes nor would I want to

last night in my dream you kissed my foot the oddest occurrence yet in that moment the shockwave it sent would make any other act pale in comparison and even awake now my cheeks are flushed heartbeat elevated

I watch you in lively conversations with everyone else I watch you looking everywhere else but here I watch you not even register I am talking one of these days I will watch you realise I no longer ask if you're even listening

the first morning light when waking up is a delight first time in ages

I stay up late writing you stay up late reading we don't sleep the story goes on

I am a warm place the little shop of incense next to the fruit stand blueberry in my hair with a hint of herbs and earth raspberries and cream on the skin layered with pumpkin and spice on top a touch of amber sandalwood and warm vanilla hidden underneath notes even more mysterious not every nose can catch

happy and rotund we'd be, you say plump and pleased a naughtier sound, I respond unable to find words to acknowledge a future where we cook for each other

there's a particular sadness to witnessing life happen without you pictures of happy moments yourself not included because you wanted to believe you didn't need that connection that's just the way we are, you know we don't keep in touch but you could have you just didn't know

empty smiles empty words empty laughs empty head empty heart empty bed

hammer to the skull from the inside out try having a coherent thought words float away letter by letter all is silent except you whispering my name

would you greet me with a kiss no questions no hesitation sweep me off my feet instantly or maybe let the tension build until the undeniable sparks grow too intense to ignore or is it just a dream is it just a dream

I open the window just a little to let some light in terrified but tired of the dark

in my dreams we collide once almost violently then stick together in a calm, slow dance through existence and finally the pieces fit my hand at home in yours a constant tangle of limbs the fresh sheets no longer cool bliss nonetheless

thunder roars in the distance the trees wrap their branches closer to their trunks prepared knowing the pretty pink hue in the sky is not of innocence not made of softness and calm but a sign of destructive power in an anticipatory lull gathering strength gathering the fluff around to unleash

I tell you how my morning walk was that the air smelled exceptionally sweet and the old man from that one house was out walking his cat again I tell you how I can't decide which future scares me the most so I keep spinning, dizzy in the intersection of decisions I tell you about my dog trying to sit on the bottom shelf of my bookcase where I store the books I won't keep I tell you how tired I am of feeling like I'm running out of time still unable to move any piece in this endless puzzle I tell…

the more real you become the harder it is to write about you I don't want to get the details wrong they don't matter, really but why risk saying something that isn't true when I could say -

the fear of being without what I don't even have here, now is making me stay here, now if only there was a switch to turn off the wanting