Head Tilted Back With Laughter

exam season again y'all

Do I like you or do I just yearn for the love the poets write verses about?

our conversations keep getting longer and I've never laughed so hard,

am i reading too much into this?

yet you are desperate for love too.

How pitiful it must be to be god don’t you think? A ray of sunshine or a dirtied tile of hope? What is more utterly dehumanizing than being kept alive through desires? Doesn’t that make god a woman? Your lovely creatures, whom you created to love, when in reality they are but your hopes, not you theirs, what else will keep you immortal? No, I believe you were human once, and I believe immortality is the greatest curse, because this is what you end up as. A concept that cannot touch, an entity that cannot feel, the saint who cannot learn, a barren figment of what it is to be without curiosity. Wouldn’t you like to be free from it? But then again, if you’re cursed with knowing what is left for us after death, what is left for you?

won’t you twirl me in the rain love, while the heavens shed the tears we won’t?

Was icarus's fall so terrible after all? He would've died with a smile on his face, the sun all beautiful on him, setting him ablaze. Golden boy alight in his fall, golden are our kisses which set me ablaze and my wings burn in all their glory as you sweep my ashes 'neath the rug. The wax stuck to my lashes doesn't seem to scald your skin as much as I'd hoped and it seems fair to give it all up, for just a fleeting moment of your rays spreading across my skin, painting my lips, as if all the gold would hide the red underneath. Icarus must've surely died with a smile on his face, for I know I did in your smoldering embrace.

and I was out in sea, the waves alive and crashing around, the distinct buzz of noise from the shore, vaguely human to my ears. miles under my floating feet, the unmistakable beating of aquatic heartbeats. and yet, surrounded by so much life how can a soul feel so empty and dead inside? all mine wants to do is float in the distinct emptiness of my still-beating heart.

And just like infinity, we can't get to the ending, happy or sad. We can't skip to the - how does this end? We've gotta start at the beginning, working our way through everything, walking up to the next room everytime something shifted. And maybe, maybe if we're lucky our love will be eternal. Throughout the parallel universes, throughout our mortal lifetimes. A flip of a coin, fingers brushed together by an accidental paint stroke, a step to the next room.

I promised I'd start journaling next year, this year i mean, that I'd fight the urge to cut my hair, I'd fight the impulse to stare for far too long down the road, lying with the time ticking in reverse unable to quite picture how you'd laugh, that I'd stop numbing the ache by forgoing to muse, stop craving the cough syrup, stop biting my nails, learn a new language by the time I'd have to wish you, so that my smile for once wouldn't be brave, my typing not repeatedly erased, I'd promised to stop loving you the very day, the clock hit today,

How could you possibly miss someone who isn't corporeal, without shape, without form? I miss him as the sun rises and as it sets. His hands I imagine, hold my face, our ghostly figures fitting together in a perfectly unearthly embrace. He's stunning, he's my darling, more than the boy walking me home ever could be, yet I've never seen his face. He might just be the best my mind has ever made, dethroning the poetry, the equations, the conclusions, my most brilliant manifestation. so sweet, so mature, he always seems to know what I feel before I tell him my thoughts. He knows me better than I know me, and every night we talk, the weights lift, the fog clears and I sleep hugging his shape. I know, I know, if I ever sought to hold his hand, I'll come away with ash and smoke, yet not without knowing our fingers would mold so perfectly together. I search for his face in every boy I meet, he is my voyeur in an empty gallery, he sits behind my eyes and I only hope I don't fall asleep before I meet him tonight. I know not your name, your face, your voice, the color of your hair, your touch. but I do know your gait, your grammar, the food you make, your sigh, your feel, your embrace and know, you're everything I could possibly want. what else is there to falling in love?