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take heart, sweetheart, or i will take it from you.

Recent Entries

6/18/09 10:57 pm - again.

im holding my tongue and all of my pieces. keep quiet, keep it together.
we spent the morning trading lines, and it just made my chest open into a dull ache. no comfort in your quiet words, just razorblades that hang themselves off my wrists. just weights and boxes and polaroids, shoved between my ribs. i dont want to go to sleep alone anymore. the last time this happened, i had your back to put my face into. i had your hands. i had you. and now it's the second time around and im having to breathe all on my own. im so scared. i just wanna call you and tell you, im so scared. i dont want her to die. i dont want to know what happens without her. i dont want to see her hair fall out and her eyes go blank and her body get burnt again. i dont want to have this, this and a hard wall. nothing to bury myself in but the reality of this, and the bitterness of being lonely.
i've been holding myself together. barely, but holding myself together nonetheless. but now my houseguest is gone, i have no-one to pretend for. and it's here, well before midnight on a thursday, that i break down.
i dont want to have to be strong enough for this.
not again. 

6/16/09 11:41 pm - prisoners of war.

it has taken me under it's water.
it has clawed at my legs with it's wet fingers and pulled me under.
im just not sure where to draw breath.
my lungs are heavy; my ribcage, heavy.
im carrying the weight of this in my chest cavity.
for my sister, my father and most of all you.
september. was that the last time your skin cried for this?
the last time you were burnt, and buried in promises of no more.
im finding it hard to breathe right.
how have we gone from soldiers to prisoners of war?

6/16/09 01:09 am - blood & bones.

first with your hands, then with your mouth.
sleepless one a.m., with burning lungs and her body in my bed. i wish i knew how to measure reactions, then somehow i would know how to measure you. i wish i knew how to put my hands up against it, these walls and these tiny air pockets poking holes in my lungs. im turning my attention, turning my skirts. i dont want to think about you anymore, so i dont. i just dont. that makes me a bad daughter, but a bad daughter who is only human. only blood and bones. i cant be the stoic front in all of this, not again. i want something to take me crashingly by storm, something to kick my legs out from underneath me that isnt this, not this again. so instead i will dance with sergeants with hands big enough to cover the small of my back, the small of my heart that gets so cold in this city air. i will stay out just to watch the sun rise with strangers. i will lay myself on the line for you, or as much as this scarred old heart will allow. i will ask you, in my closed-off, hemming-and-hawing way, to ask me. i will cover myself with inks and burnt wood. all of this, enough to light fires. all of this, enough to take heart.
i just want to get so good at vanishing.

6/4/09 11:34 pm - black eyes.

so im getting drunk in my living room, watching myself reflected in the glass. i seem to get smaller, denser, darker. the more red wine i swallow, the more my hands start to shake, cradling thick glass stained like black eyes. i walked out of my noose today, walked out of my noose and into the open sky. i dont feel any different, like i thought maybe i should. like i was hoping maybe i would. im still the same sixteen year old stuck in riotous loops. drinking bitter wine and smoking all of my cigarettes on a wet balcony. watching my sister put her arms out, watching him put his heart right into her palm. sometimes there are still things that make me want to hear your voice, but most of the time it's just to hear you say my name when i tell you no more.

6/4/09 12:36 am - the yellow bird that i've been waiting for.

it was easier, and certainly safer, knowing that i was bent and beaten down.
but now there is a yellow bird between my lungs. a yellow bird, not a black cage.
i am not hoping for things, not quite yet. but, instead: there is the capacity to hope.

you're going to punish me for this, i know.

6/3/09 04:36 pm - skeleton fingers.

i spent my night breaking promises and sharing beers. meeting you in the streets and realising we're like mirrors, both in tight grey jeans, black hoods and messy fringes. shades instead of colours. your big black eyes looking down at me, you're smiling and something kicks me between my ribs. you cooked me dinner and we traded war stories over the frames of pulp fiction. i sort of liked the awkward, the catching of eyes. first kisses and uncertainty between your sheets. i dont want this to be just a champagne bottle broken against me to set my sails. for the first time in a long time im seeing only the face in front of me. instead of his face. and his body. laying across lovers and tapping his skeleton fingers on my chest. it's just you and it's just me in that wide black bed, my fingernails making marks on both our skins. bodies so close, there is no room for him to crawl in beside me and whisper, did you miss me? do you miss me still? im awake for most of the night, listening to the rain beat down your doors. im awake because i can't stop turning this over in my mind. i dont want this to be a one night only. i want to be able to kiss you on the street. and it's been so long,
so long since i've wanted anything but him.

6/1/09 04:31 pm - thursday.

i sit on my city balcony with my fingertips and eyes going numb with cold and i smoke and count my losses as gains. traffic makes me feel at home, like i've got company in the hours i spend alone in this building. come thursday, i will hold out my hopes on a string. come thursday, i will be a better woman than you know. come thursday, i'll know the difference between the photographs i inhabit and the body i call my own. time has given me a deadline and im shaking from the certainty of it all.

sometimes i get so scared, i turn into a lamp post.

5/31/09 08:08 pm - city girl.

i am not lost anymore.
not quite found, but certainly,
somewhere closer to the otherside.

5/22/09 08:09 pm - this old heart.

im drinking wine, the kind that stings and warms your throat and guts. im packing my life into boxes and keep finding photographs. photographs of the dead. dead love, dead friend, dead heart.
i tear the photographs of her and i in half. dead heart. i dont want any evidence of her fingerprints on me.
the other photographs, well.
dead friend, i will put you back on my shelves in the city.
and dead love. baby, you're going in my bottom drawer. right next this old heart.
i still miss you everyday.

5/21/09 12:06 am - tug-of-war.

midnights and love songs are making me heavy. midnights, love songs and stained fingertips.
i spent my day burying myself in boxes, and every time i came up for air there was something of us that i'd forgotten about.
my lips on your neck your hands steadying my waist. painted tshirts and mixed tapes and love letters.
every time i think about you it's like someone is pulling my chest in a tug-of-war. my heart wants to remember the good. and my head can only repeat the bad. we are grainy and blurred out in every dish my memory serves me.

i just can't get it straight you see and, oh well.
that distraction inside of me, oh well. 

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