i love you too much to let you go completely
inadequacy rings in the core of my bones
words stumble from the cliff of my tongue
into your annoyance
"A flower does not think of competing to the flower next to it. It just blooms."
from Zen Shin Talks (via thatkindofwoman)
I’ll gather the loose threads of our hearts with delicate fingers and with my heart laid upon needles and with my knees scraped and with my other hand clasped tight with yours, fingers interlacing
if I can
(but I can’t)
I know I love you when I start sleeping with your sweater against my chest, with my heart palpitating in sync with the waft of your smell, with my heart rested upon the comfort of your warmth
I know I love you
i’m still learning how to grapple with waves of jubilation/exhilaration/poignancy/trepidation while savoring each passing moment which slither through my hands like fistfuls of sand.
my sky is painted a constant grey with minimal hues of blue or streaks of pink or a palette of orange. and i feel as if i’m stuck in this state of neutrality until something sweeps me off my feet again. i dare not seek the similarity between neutrality and contentment because i’m afraid of being fooled (by myself) into thinking that they are the same. they’re similar yet different, not the same. there must be more to life than this constant state of neutrality. i’ll never be compelled to write or feel in this perpetual state of nothingness. only when i’m stranded on isolated islands of extreme emotions will my pen do its
magic work. i want to write again.
i’ll write about oceans and seas and those blue pits of nothingness but i won’t. they scare me with their engulfing waves and their vastness. can you imagine sinking with your feet never gracing the seabed? can you imagine clinging onto a flimsy piece of wood with nothing but blue in sight? i yearn to see the oceans in the eyes of a poet - yale blue with speckles of sunlight with the occasional sightings of iridescent jellyfishes and the comforting squawks of seagulls. but i can’t. i see the oceans as blue pits of uncertainty. as blue monsters with waves as tentacles, engulfing everything in sight. sometimes, i’ll dream of drowning and
sinking sinking sinking
but what scares me isn’t the act of drowning. what scares me is that i may sink and never stop. my feet will never grace the seabed and there’ll be nothing in sight to cling on to even as i wrestle with the waters.
i don’t know whats with the sudden influx of words but. yes.
A writer for the new york times interviewed a series of people who had survived jumping off the golden gate bridge. Every person she interviewed admitted that about two thirds of the way down, they realized that every seemingly meaningless problem that caused them to jump was fixable.
Every single one.
this gave me chills.
Reblogging this again because it matters.