You do not deserve peace
When you took mine
to obtain it.
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Thursday, November 2, 2017
11-2
One two three.
Times are changing. Seasons turn turn turn.
The wheel came up. The hanged man. I look down at the cards and they're telling me if I slow down, wait, things could be different, but I don't want to give my past a chance to catch me. I don't want to get sucked back into that vortex, and I know I would. I would get crushed on that wheel over and over, and I'm tired of being the butterfly.
I'm the bee. I'm the bat. I'm the hawk. I'm the sky and the ground and the atmosphere and the water and the fucking trees.
I am not a delicate dainty thing to be found crushed with shimmering scale-dust around me.
I am not a doe-eyed unguided pretty thing to kick.
I am not a red-lipped distant thing to pour lies onto.
I am autonomous.
I am tired of telling you what I am not.
If you reached out a hand, I might hesitate, but I'm strong again. My molten walls are in place and hardening around me.
It's a hard lesson to learn who doesn't deserve them. He knocks quietly, chips gently, fingernails. I don't know how to drop them for such a quiet and reasonable request, not yet.
How unfair.
I wonder if he'll keep trying. It's an accidental test. I move away, I gather myself, and I try to reach out. I let my mind settle. I find myself in silence and re-evaluate. I reach back out. I pull back.
What a trial, to find me, to those who want to find me and are worthwhile. But if they're worthwhile, they'll make that effort. Isn't that how it works?
The ones who will stay are worth it. They'll see enough to stay. I'll try hard enough.
What will change when I'm gone? My life is swirling in upheaval, excitement, new opportunities, new spaces. Will he reach through the distance? Distance is my killer. I can't love someone distantly. Not anymore. I need warm arms and warm eyes to curl into.
Will it matter when my life is lain out before me, the way I want it? I have wanted this for so long, everything else pales in comparison. Warm arms seem tepid. Constraining.
I'm bursting forward to my future, the one I've wanted, the one I've dreamed of and fought for tooth and nail.
Arms may hold me back.
Times are changing. Seasons turn turn turn.
The wheel came up. The hanged man. I look down at the cards and they're telling me if I slow down, wait, things could be different, but I don't want to give my past a chance to catch me. I don't want to get sucked back into that vortex, and I know I would. I would get crushed on that wheel over and over, and I'm tired of being the butterfly.
I'm the bee. I'm the bat. I'm the hawk. I'm the sky and the ground and the atmosphere and the water and the fucking trees.
I am not a delicate dainty thing to be found crushed with shimmering scale-dust around me.
I am not a doe-eyed unguided pretty thing to kick.
I am not a red-lipped distant thing to pour lies onto.
I am autonomous.
I am tired of telling you what I am not.
If you reached out a hand, I might hesitate, but I'm strong again. My molten walls are in place and hardening around me.
It's a hard lesson to learn who doesn't deserve them. He knocks quietly, chips gently, fingernails. I don't know how to drop them for such a quiet and reasonable request, not yet.
How unfair.
I wonder if he'll keep trying. It's an accidental test. I move away, I gather myself, and I try to reach out. I let my mind settle. I find myself in silence and re-evaluate. I reach back out. I pull back.
What a trial, to find me, to those who want to find me and are worthwhile. But if they're worthwhile, they'll make that effort. Isn't that how it works?
The ones who will stay are worth it. They'll see enough to stay. I'll try hard enough.
What will change when I'm gone? My life is swirling in upheaval, excitement, new opportunities, new spaces. Will he reach through the distance? Distance is my killer. I can't love someone distantly. Not anymore. I need warm arms and warm eyes to curl into.
Will it matter when my life is lain out before me, the way I want it? I have wanted this for so long, everything else pales in comparison. Warm arms seem tepid. Constraining.
I'm bursting forward to my future, the one I've wanted, the one I've dreamed of and fought for tooth and nail.
Arms may hold me back.
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