we all came with shattered hearts: pieces rubbed red raw locked fingerprinted in american soil, worn language to fill the voids. we came to stretch and to break in the miniature for the sport of it, for the space between blossom and jagged edge.
TRUTH: ALL OUR HEARTS ARE BROKEN
and the shards lie in your father’s townhome. a docked boat. the tiled floor of your high school bathroom stall. the rooftop ninety-seven minutes after midnight. a cardboard jewelry box. an empty bottle. your sunbaked july hometown. the creak in your stairs.
(that’s why we learned to laugh kaleidoscopes.)
we gathered with music and dried saltwater in our lungs and pledged to embody structure (out with the dust). and i let my heart crack somewhere in this big beige storybook world, lost sharp realities in fantasyland. this song fills me to breaking, and they’ve seen me unwrapped: i bleed maroon. maroon and raw. maroon and stars. maroon and the moon and the forever sky and the thirst for soul and the ache, the ache, cycle thirteen and chapter closed.
(to leave my name at the tip of your tongue.)
a case of hearts, broken or otherwise. my case of stories, strands of hair in the wind, silver laughter, a map of your tongue, presence (or otherwise). a case of hearts.
remaining: thinnest fingers. eyes that know. racing mind. thirteen of the most beautiful ladies in progress. breath.
i pledge to live.Posted 10 months ago with 2 notes