September

Absence is meant to leave a wound. The pain of such does not signify that you weren't meant to part ways, it does not signify that you are inescapably tied to one another. Eternity within a relationship lasts as far as the minds in love can see when put together. Wounds are only a passage of time. Why, under any circumstances, smother a love that has already been exhausted?

I could sit and revel in this pain for an endless amount of time. I am dissecting it for absolutely every ounce of feel it holds, I am tearing through the displaced lacing pulled from me mercilessly and I am both understanding and raging within it to depths I would have never thought attainable. I am terrified of it yet it's something I cannot and would not take myself away from, not if it means a complete loss. I will sit with it. I will sleep beside it. I will walk atop it, but I refuse to seep beneath. I can manage to keep it alive through thought, as cruel and unyielding as they may thread together, they remain. Everything remains, even within the loss. Disastrous, I am. I am I am I am.

she sat and listened to strings because it sounds like mourning, like grief, like unconquerable sorrow pouring and pouring. a knife in the abdomen. she wore that baby blue dress, bird boned, and she'd sit in the windowsill nurturing knees to her chest and watch the way rain married itself upon the glass, watched how it grew a dazed smoke each time her breath crossed it. how strangely, how intimately she would live in moments like this. you don't touch her; she'd startle. she doesn't want to be moved. macabre, maiden to the night, wearing its glow like a lustful silk. this is the company she wants: weeping moon, pouting sky. it is not you.