Orange Heartbeats

The sun beats faster when we’re young. The mist cloaks us like an old friend and you feel alive in this way your mother always told you to feel.

Greetings to winter are murmured through frost-bitten fingers. The music you made in the frozen alleyway when you thought nobody was watching fills the air and makes it come alive in the same rhythm of the sun’s heartbeat.

Remember when you were 5? You watched as your father drank warm champagne and your mother watched on in the same way the moon watches the Earth spin wildly on its axis. You look at me the same way sometimes. I know the distance is large and frightening. And I know that sometimes you teeter at the edge, almost begging your body to find that one inch of bravery to let you fall into the dark.

Everything feels like a moment I need to catch. I pick the stars between my fingers sometimes and keep them in your pocket for safekeeping. I give you iced lemonade in mason jars sometimes and you give me a look that I can’t seem to catch. Or give to you to safe-keep.

The sun skips a beat, but you’re still so goddamn alive.
I’m just scared you’re leaving me behind in your wake.

Of Strings and Such

I vaguely wonder what’s wrong with me sometimes, and whether I’m broken by choice or by default. Maybe we’ve never actually had enough time to hold onto our strings – and our lives that have been so closely bound together by dreams and beliefs can unravel in the speed of light when someone forgets to hold them tightly enough.

Things start to feel strange after a while. Like you’re so used to them that they don’t seem real anymore.

The world is my chalkboard, I know that. I’m trying not to be afraid. I’m scribbling away and waiting. It’s all going to be okay someday, that’s what we have to believe anyway.

Hold on and hope. Breathe on and believe. Live on and love. Repeat.

Winter Blue, Summer Red

You are winter blue and summer red and you need to make me believe. Make me open my eyes and dream out loud. You said you liked how the sky split itself into half, unleashed its polar opposite colors and left the moon hanging in the midst. Take this as a mission from your favorite lump of rock watching down at us from above. Believers. Make some.

The world would gladly accept some ironic charity, are you ready to give it? There is more to living than thinking. There is more to believing than ignoring. Stop choosing. Stop planning. Love me on a whim, not because I’ll cash in one day in your near violet future. Stop being afraid of death whispering to you through crackled radio, of grasping your hand amidst our next thunderstorm.

Loosen up, goddammit. You’re on a mission after all. I’m counting down from The Big Dipper. The stars are your workers. The moon is your judge. Hurry up now, get to work.

Regret

You know, I think we’re all here for a reason. Sometimes we get entangled in our lives, but I know, I’m sure of it – we’re all here for a reason. Maybe it’s to show off our clumsy handwriting in the sky, or just kick back in the passenger seat on a road engraved with stars and pretend we’re infinite.

We have to be here for a reason, right? I know we can all go on for days and weeks and months just looking up and wishing we were somewhere else. But I’m tired of pretending, of whispering to the misty air, of closing my eyes when I should be opening them as much as I can.

Things are ending, I can see it. They say it hits you fast, like a car crash. It doesn’t, it’s actually quite like dawn in its certainty and inevitability. Most of us just refuse to believe it. And only some of us embrace it.

And when the final star has fallen to the light, all of us are drowned in regret. We toast it, and we drink to it, and we slowly give ourselves over to it. Regret. Our hero, our villain. Our savior, our enemy.

Are we only here to be the puppets of regret? Sometimes I stand up against it but my knees tremble with fatigue. Maybe we should be united, or maybe we should just be alone. The world is thoroughly mapped, but our lives can still be ours to plot.

All we have to do is stop pretending.

Summer Bliss

It was the way the light was catching your dusty skin that made you feel like an autumn blossom. Things feel airtight and close but sometimes I love you like a hovering dream unable to let go of your eyelids. You make the leaves sing with summer bliss. You make the trees breathe with life. But sometimes you scare me with the lives I can only envy.

Will you leave me here when the rain sets in? Will you run after the thunderstorm? I love you and only you but you are too wild in your dreams to learn how to love just one thing. You always smell like regret and potential. So you must leave. All the time. To follow the stars you clumsily shake hands with. To learn the coastlines of your life and set out to make them less rugged.

But I will remember.

I will always remember how we danced in the moonlight with our lives entwined. I will always remember how we promised to touch the horizon one day together. I will always remember how you leaned over from the front seat and whispered how it was all going to be over someday. And how you were the only one scared. I’m scared of a lot of things. But I want things to end. So we can stop twirling in the starlight and start breathing in it instead. I will always remember you.

But it’s time for you to leave, again.

The Space Between II

This time of year always makes me remember. Remember the way our hands danced across the little keys to type up love letters for lost souls. The way we’d be star struck in winter and love struck in spring. Sometimes I think we’re all a bit more than we can be. All that energy can’t be lost, maybe it’s just in things or people or places. Maybe it’s in that blanket your mother wrapped you around when you were 5 and scared. Maybe it’s in that highway you drove down when you were 16 and reckless. Maybe it’s in that glass of scotch you drank when you were 50 and hopeless. Maybe we’re all going to find it someday.

There was a time when I ruffled my hands through your hair and you smiled as the daylight sang to you. We were shiny and new, and still fixed at the seams. Our whispers weren’t so cracked and our knees weren’t so creaky. Perhaps the longer we live, the harder we will fall. But I’m not scared, and you tell me not to be. We’ve still got that energy. Maybe it’ll hover over our grave or rest with our ashes.

We keep watching as beginnings dance around us and endings beckon us, when maybe we should just be focusing on the in between. It’s like those goddamn stars, all over again. How everyone never notices that beautiful space in between them, no matter how beautifully it envelops us and accepts us. I’m tired of wondering where the rest of me is. Because I know it’s somewhere, and perhaps that’s all that matters.

Maybe I should light a candle in the space in between.

http://notabangbutawhimper.wordpress.com/2010/06/03/the-space-between/

Usage

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I Haven’t Forgotten

Forget is a strange word.

Hello. Hi. How do you do? I’ve been swamped with work.
To be honest – that’s just an excuse I use rather frequently.

Finals are coming up, it was around this time last year that I was writing page after page of these strange words all mixed up together. And I guess it’s rather scary, to think a whole year has passed ever since I started all of this. I feel like I should be doing much more than I already am, I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m not as confidant and self assured as I seem, I’m scared. Of the future and of time going too fast. I take a lot of breaks from here because I don’t want to get too caught up in here. I don’t want to be caught up anywhere, if I’m honest.

This doesn’t make a lot of sense.

I’ve been listening to Mogwai the whole day now, and writing a final which I have to submit tomorrow. I feel like sometimes I don’t have time to breathe. I find myself stopping and staring out of the window a lot, thinking how nice it would be if outside was inside and inside was nowhere. If my life was all pretty photos, lovely weather and writing while drinking warm Coke in the middle of my garden.

It’s nice to dream sometimes, it’s healthy isn’t it? To escape?

This post isn’t actually going anywhere, for anyone searching for some nice words that they can perhaps relate to. I’ve been looking for anything I can relate to, and I still haven’t found it. It’s like I’m playing Hide and Seek and I’m searching for everything.

I just wanted this post to say thank you, actually. Thank you for every site hit, every comment, every like on any social networking site. Thank you for every anonymous question, for coming up to me with that brave look of discovery. Thank you  if you found me from the very beginning, or stumbled upon me right now. Thank you if I still talk to you everyday, thank you for the days I did. Thank you all.

This isn’t a goodbye, but it sure as hell feels as one.

I love you all. I’ll be back, maybe sooner than you know it.

Speck of Stardust

The world is kind of beautiful, maybe you should stop running away from it. You are quite the speck of stardust, and I am just a firefly sometimes – trapped in your mason jar of hope. There is an everyday pitter patter of love outside the glass, and I lean my hands against it trying to feel the electric raindrops.

Teach me how to fly back to your stars. They are so clumsy in their unconditional love. So confused yet self-assured. How strange is it to envy something glowing in the sky, a million miles away?

Teach me how to dance in these beautiful words you have collected. Words to say, words to believe in. Words to breathe, words to live in.

Teach me how to love the cracks in our souls and the light pouring out of it. And how maybe we always will feel like there isn’t enough time. So we end up looking forward, instead of back. And we forget.

We’re only human. We’re such fragile beings. We laugh, we cry and we love far too easily.

We’re only human, after all.

Sing It Out

Maybe I figured if I closed my eyes the whole year would pass by in words.
I always figure the wrong things out.
I once thought I was in love. I think I was, actually.
Sleepy eyed and half in love, with strangers and lost love letters.
But can I just tell you something?
You are a sunny day and I want to curl up inside you, lie my head on your collarbone which has collected so many things and just let the world pass me by.
Sing it out to me.
Please.
Remind me that I’m real, that I’m tangible. That I’m not trapped between the Milky Way, unable to speak or hear. I know the air thickens around us sometimes, and I know it gets hard to breathe. But trust me. It gets better. Believe me.
And while you’re at it, instill some belief in me.

We’re all broken in a million different places at once.  But it is our cracks that unite us. And it is the unity that will fix us. Believe me. I know.

I hope.

I’ve had writer’s block for a while now. And this is me getting back at it. It’s not very well written, I know. It’s confused, pretty much reflecting the state of my mind right now. But this is me trying. Go a little easy on me, please.