Thoughts in Writing

I want you to sit me down and scream at me. tell me that what I did was wrong and that it hurt. I want you to shake me senseless…until I get it. until I allow myself to let someone in… romantically…spiritually…emotionally. 

No one as close to perfection as you deserves what I did to you. I loved the way you looked at me; the way you made me feel; how you treated me. I wish that I was in love with you…

I have cared about you for so many years, and now that I am back all I can do is continue to care…more and more…and it honestly hurts soo bad. pay back? maybe…
but you are not even forcing this payback on me…

I hate myself for how I went about things. In some ways I hate you, for not telling me that I was wrong and that we…us…we were worth fighting for…we were worth getting over that hurdle.

Every time I am near you I want to sit in a corner and cry, but, in unison, you crack me up and make me fall under your charm. How do you do it… unconsciously.  

this is all word vomit…but man I mean every bit of it. 

MM…I am so sorry. please yell at me. please be mad at me. it hurts more that you do not show those emotions towards me. 

Being alone, for three day, in my room with a pack of cigarettes, music, and some incense right now sounds like magic.

I am laying in the air, drifting downwards. 

I ask that you do not catch me, for if you do, I may never break away. 

You may feel the heaviness of my limp body,

or recognize the slow and steady breath that maintains the serenity. 

when the gravity arrives, you may try to set me down gently; 

however it will only feel as if I slipped off the third-story window pane. 

I do not know how the bruises and scratches will heal, 

but the risk is already in motion…

i wish i could just say how i feel all the time and not worry about what kind of reaction or judgement back. because knowing that i expressed how i feel with out a care in the world would make life so much easier. 

i hold so much inside.

My life is drifting away from what is was gravitating towards. 

It is moving towards the light, the truth. 

I am focusing now on not what I was becoming, 

but the purest form of me. 

I am backing away from what is deathly for me, 

and gliding towards bliss. 

All this being said, I still miss you, 

and I still wish the best for you. 

He stands there 

his hand is stretched out

and she curls up in the round surface. 

As he turns his hand palm face down, 

she clings to his fingers, 

fighting to remain close. 

She falls to the ground and he walks away.

Violently chasing after him, 

her lungs collapsing and her breath getting lost even more with every sprint, 

she starts to weep. 

Her body is damp with salty moistness. 

He is guarded and no one ever knows what he actually wants or thinks;

all she wants is him…

Maybe I have just been building up the content in my thoughts this whole time…

Maybe it really has never been anything…

Maybe the words were ultimately shallow…

Maybe the blushed glances at me were full of lies and deceptions.. 

Maybe the shared smiles were only authentic from one side…

Maybe every touch had too much of a purpose…

Maybe every confession really wasn’t true at all…

Maybe everything has always been a game to you…

If so, you are winning hands down.

My smiles, my tears, my secrets, my kisses, my words, my everything has always been real.

You are the skin and the veins, 

the bold pain and the concern.

You are the antidote on a gloomy day

and the lingering smell of the cigarette. 

You are the sweet feeling of the rain

and the serene nerves suddenly in shock.

However, you are not the narrator of the story. 

the embers on the floor,

or the consistency of inconsistency. 

And you are certainly not the passing trend. 

There is just no way you are the passing trend. 

It is possible that you are the writing under the surface, 

maybe even the imperfections on the weathered skin, 

but you are not even close 

to being the shadow of ambiance at dusk. 

And a quick look in the mirror will show

that you are neither the innocence in the corner 

nor the calm projected in its stare. 

It might interest you to know, 

speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world, 

that I am the sound of fingertips sliding across the smooth steel. 

I also happen to be the fragile soul, 

the eager girl drifting down the slide, 

and the result of the years on a troubled path. 

I am also the awaited moment of clarity

and the antiqued man’s cheerful eyes. 

But don’t worry, I am not the skin and the veins. 

You are still the skin and the veins. 

You will always be the skin and the veins, 

not to mention the bold pain and—somehow—the concern. 

Written by Alyssa Browne and Tesia Tang

Inspired by Litany by Billy Collins

Have you ever thought about fading away

together

into the abyss?

Melting into each other’s arms

under the deep blue sky

as the stars wink at us

recognizing our love.

You and me…me and you. 

Odd but could it be?