it's hard to describe

this feeling i feel.
it's somewhere between elation and desperation.

i feel everything; the world courses through my veins,

dreams and nightmares spread under my skin
like an invisible bruise.

what is mine, what is yours? where are we? what is "us"?

i feel almost manic.

and yet everything is composed, tucked into these tailored trousers, this long-sleeved black shirt. the only hint of my madness catches your eye like the underfeathers of a bird: the thrilling hue of a turquoise shirt, worn close to the skin to absorb the brightness of my soul.

____________

my haven: my turquoise leather hatboxes, my vintage box with a drawing of a butterfly on top. my alabaster-white geisha lamp with the daring red shade, made even more exotic with a pink light bulb. my journals stacked to support the damned alarm clock. an envelope from the plume adorned with sketches of peacock feathers, a self-portrait, a letter from my boyfriend's sister. the shadow box with white birds taking flight off the slenderest branch, hanging over my narrow twin bed. this is where the tears are shed, the inspiration gleaned, the alarm cursed, the night passed in silence and in dreams. this is a corner of me, a space in my soul that looks the same no matter how the furniture is arranged.

____________

the words need to get out, and it hurts. it hurts to say them, and it hurts to hear them. unfortunately there's no escaping the pain unless you just don't talk about things. and so we claw at each other with our words, we claw at ourselves, and after some hours sit staring at the floor with nothing left. we are opponents who want the same thing --- how did this happen? no one is sure, and that's part of the hardship. we both want the same thing, but we're destroying each other in the process of fulfilling it. how did this happen? no one is sure.

and in our rawest state, finally we've chipped away at enough of the anger and the sadness and the misunderstanding and the exaggerated perceptions to remember that kindness exists, love covers a multitude of sins. after being on opposite sides, wounding each other, digging our fingernails into our palms, we unite. all the history and reason; the entire chain of events leading up to this moment; the ways we've been hurt by others in the past that make us retreat from each other; all the small things; the weight of remembering which hinders our moving forward; ---



a lightness of being prevails.
it is too much to bear, so,
be borne upon it instead.

i just want to say this:
it's going to be all right.