I Thought I Knew What I Was Getting Myself Into

What I wouldnt give to feel the static in my limbs again.

For as much as it makes me jump and twitch at least I can move.

For as distracting as my restlessness is at least I am not still.

Not frozen by the empty space between my skin and my bones.

Left hollow by the absence of motivation; Of want for anything.

There are hands on my hips and I dread where they might go; cold and calloused and full of intent.

They inch up instead along my ribs; crawling and scraping against my skin.

Under my sternum they begin to dig; slicing deep with sharpened nails.

They stab and burrow deep in my chest; hands pressed in prayer barely brush my heart.

They snap my bones when they pull apart; prying me open to hungry eyes.

Yet still, I beat for their entertainment; exposed and bleeding and no longer me.

I was wrong. The clouds are moving. Only slower than me.

They've cleared the other side of the trees now.

And when I can breathe again, so will I.

It's sun down now. The early stages of it, where the sky is still full of light and color. The clouds are thick an mountinous. And completely still in the sky.

The big lumbering breaths are blushed pink around the edges. Deep scores of grey over every curve and crevice. Dense and almost palpable.

It looks like a painted back drop.

And I have no where else to look.

Here among the stars and brine

The souls sing and weep

Trying not in vain to lure a sailor from his sleep

They call it seduction, heavy and sweet

But is it a trap if they give you that for which your heart beats?

I spent so much time trying to tell you how much you look like the sky.

I was wrong, the sky looks like you.

I think too much about the stars

There's a sparkle in your eyes that twinkles so brightly I want to compare it to the stars in the sky, to nova's and galaxies far away. But these worn words have lost their strength in repetition. Instead, I will search for the words that cause that shine. I will do anything to keep you looking at me that way.

Sometimes when two people are broken in the same way their jagged edges fit together

Hurt like you

There's something about sea salt and brine and the way it sits behind your eyes.

Bright and blue and full of sorrow.

I know they only romanticize your pain; as if it's some great achievement.

They say they want to hurt like you, not out of ignorance.

Only because they don't want to hurt the way they already do.

The salt it stings and the foam dyes you blue.

But for them it's soft and soothes their burned to hurt the way you do.

It's sun down now. The early stages of it, where the sky is still full of light and color. The clouds are thick an mountinous. And completely still in the sky.

The big lumbering breaths are blushed pink around the edges. Deep scores of grey over every curve and crevice. Dense and almost palpable.

It looks like a painted back drop.

And I have no where else to look.