I am hoping to stand naked before you again soon. I want you to know that I am full of bones and good intentions.
Because she looked like Audrey Hepburn and had a heart the size of the sun I knew I wouldn’t ever be good enough for her, but I tried anyway.
I am still trying.
The temperature is rising, the world is warming, my blood is rushing faster, my hands are impatient, and thanks to the season I am thirsty for love.
Send me ideas to write about and inspiration?
If you thought gravity was rough try to live under the weight of so many crushes. I will be the boy with the broken bones and roses waiting for a woman with the courage to love me back.
This is the only graveyard where we dig ourselves up
Remove our skeletons and go on about our way
Don’t worry I will still know all you people
That feel too much
You will bear stitched scars, over broken hearts
Trying to be well
No one wants to be broken
No one wants anyone to see their cracks
I am content to be one of the wounded
Bury myself the black of the earth
For someone who has fallen the same way as I
To fill this grave with me.
My head is full of dirty jokes and literary quotes and I’m hoping that’s enough for someone to love me. Do you think you could take me the way I am with holes in my hands, without a way to keep you here? Could you take me as I am laying on my back without a spine trying in vain to piece together new constellations. I am the dreamer being pulled in too many directions. I am coming apart at the seams. It seems I can’t last much longer.
I’d call you a crush but the weight of it might be too much for you. Sunk down into the earth, among the moles and snails isn’t where you belong. Or maybe it is, maybe you will set down roots to weather the winter so that when spring comes flowers bloom from your fingers. The bees will busy themselves trying to pollinate while being careful with their stingers. Maybe you are a vine destined to wind your way up oak trees only to pull them down so that they lay on their backs loving you while rotting away.
There comes a point where words are wasted if I tell you that you’re beautiful again. Go to the sea and when you come to where waves meet shore take a look at yourself in the wash and see what I see. If you can’t I will hide underwater and whisper it to you so that you think all this love is coming from yourself, where it should be. I am not enough. I am just a man, or a sack of flesh, or a bag of bones. I am something that won’t last. I just need you to believe everything I’ve told you, everything that will be here after I’m gone.
I knew she was a woman because of how aware she made me of my hands and how much I wanted to touch her but couldn’t until I had her permission. I knew she was a woman because she walked with both a rhythm and the wind. I knew she was a woman because she knocked me over without speaking to me and left my lying there my back on the concrete staring up at the sky waiting for it to be night so I could wish on a star to see her again. I knew she was a woman.