Rapture / Galaxies



I want to be alone. Want to kill myself a million times over and wake up the next morning in the arms of a lover who never says no. Pour me a glass of wine. Roll me a smoke and hold me close as everything comes apart. Let me suckle your breast as you stroke me to the seventh step of heaven. Such a mess of contradictions, yet I’m entitled to do as I please. Your body still resonates despite the passage of time that has flowed, and even though I still hate you, I can’t help but keep you close. It’s all for you, and it always will be. When they put me on the slab and all those wasted days would have been wiped from existence,Β the magic we shared will continue to dance on the edges of yesterday. Destruction between the sheets, and romance in the words I write to reach you. There’s no easy way out when it comes to love. Those that seek it don’t know what love is. It’s not marriage, and it’s not a victory march. Love is a knife to the guts. It’s a declaration of hunger and rage. Let it consume you until the need for food and water fades from thought. Let it humiliate. Let it reduce. A thousand-day war since you left. A thousand days of catharsis in every word that flows like melting snow down the sidewalk. There’s no reason for the seasons, only random chances involving numbers and lost goodbyes. Breathe me in, and I’ll do my best to put you in a poem. There’s no meaning behind a smile. No science in the feelings that dance behind our eyes. It’s the stuff of wonder that floats like lost galaxies born in the hearts of dead universes. We came from rapture, and rapture is what we know whenever our lips meet despite the bullets we shoot. Violence in our touch. Something solemn in the silence that grows between us. A frozen lake. An embrace made out of dreams and intoxication. I’m not what you think. Not some monster or machine, I’m just a boy looking for blue skies, the kind that stretches forever in childhood afternoons so often taken for granted. Let me put you on a pedestal and everything will be just fine. Let me be who I want to be, and the rest will surely follow.

19 replies »

  1. We all are an hourglass of paradoxical sands, that constantly slip away, in search for acceptance, love and fulfillment.

    • That’s very kind of you to think so, thank you. I’m working on two books currently. One is titled ‘A Journal for Damned Lovers’ which will be out next summer. The other is a horror novel. It’s a labour of love and hate and is an ongoing project πŸ™‚

  2. This is so good it physically aches to read it. And yet I read it.

    I guess writing is a lot like the love you describe. Roses and knives. Devastating. Redeeming. Hungry.

    If this makes any sense. πŸ™‚

    Brilliantly done.

  3. Once again I’m tempted to gush and go on and on about how incredible your writing is and how I’m simply in love with the way your mind works but instead, I’m sitting here all like……..gulp…..dumbfounded and content to be! jeez…killing me softly for sure!

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