a letter of honesty:
written from the heart, she has nothing to say to you. snow lions whisked her away in the blizzard of catastrophe your hurricane sent on her- erupting lava from every pore in her metaphysical corpse.
she'd like me to tell you, though, that she's watching you, every move. not in the sad, sadistic way, she says, but more of the guardian angel way. she wants you to know that.
she wants you to know that she's happier now, with penguins to write love letters to and teacups made of real china, the kind you could never afford. (you always said that love alone was enough.) i remember mother telling me that love alone would never feed four children- but this isnt about me.
she wants you to know that she watches your fingers type lies of "i dont knows" and "im fines" to people who dont really give a shit- she says to excuse her french.
she'd also like to say congratulations, and sorry, because she knows she cant tell you what she's happy for you about. she admits to discombobulation, too. but she knows it'll make you happier, even if it makes her sadder.
she wants you to never take off the bracelet, because the birds up there send telegraphic messages through silver and love- and yours is never ending.
shes telling me to tell you that she's tired, but she's going to keep trying, even though it hurts. ive told her its okay to let go, its okay to fly, but she'd much rather keep both feet on the ground. i cant blame her.
she's asking now if youll ever be okay- tears arent see- through up there, they leave stains and scars on everyone.
now she's talking about all the colours- im sorry, i shouldnt have told you that. she wouldnt have wanted it. she's slipping away to somewhere much more quiet, where the world moves 29 seconds slower and seconds are counted in 80s.
she's sad now, it makes me sad to watch her. she's trying to choke through something, but i cant be sure of what it is. oh, i got it. she's asking if you love her.
she's asking, if you love her, and i told her you said yes, even though you can tell her soon- you're already waiting.
a letter of honesty:
she has everything to say to you.
its a repetitive cycle of yes' and no's
and my brain is in overload and all i need is
sixteen hours of sleep straight- minus the vodka and minus the cigarettes.
your face is my stimulus and your voice is my guide.
fuck the cycle.
its you, and me.