I prepare my coffee that I will drink on the window sill where I see trees letting go of first leaves and an anticipating breeze telling me that soon this fading summer will make room for fall, washed-out pastels catching fire, skeleton silhouettes under a paper lantern moon.
when my own skeleton started to show I touched my bones with wonder, they're small like a bird's and can catch shadows where I haven't seen them before (don't worry mother, I am eating, it just seems like letting go is a process that my body is embracing, too).
I have taken time and space to build a sanctuary and people tell me I've become harder but I don't think it is that way. or maybe becoming hard just means going with your intuition and not being willing to pretend not seeing through people's words and actions, then that's fine. I'm not here to please anyone anymore, I'm sorry if that comes as a shock.
I didn't fully realize how much has changed untill you insisted on seeing me. there we were sitting and it was strangely familiar and strangely alien and I was between running away and giving in to the reflex of falling into your arms (I always was).
I did neither but I looked into your eyes for too long and they were telling so much more than what you allowed yourself to and I was taken back to days long ago when they would see me for the first times, with no foreshadow of what they would see later.
I don't know what went wrong. maybe it is you talking about freedom as if it is the opposite of love, maybe it is that we're both actively trying to find ourselves (we're fools if we think that's possible) and not willing to be distracted by a feeling that is known to cause wars and shake you to the core. it's all in the past now but time is a questionable concept and I feel the past inside my present as I'm standing at the stove, waiting for the milk to heat. I broke my own heart months ago and I would do it again anyday if that means being true to myself but I can't help thinking we just took a wrong turn somewhere down the road.
we were like a natural spectacle once and I can not unsee that.
for a moment I'm just tired of not being able to talk to a person that used to know a way through the maze of my insides , tired of still having to drink up the cup of disappointment that was handed to me, tired of being left to wonder about chapters unread.
but I am not willing to surpress myself any more in any way and talking to you now feels that way because there are things I can't talk to you about and things I don't dare asking you.
I'm not one to make compromises these days and I guess this is what came clear in that half-hearted hug in the end of the night. with us it's either all in or nothing at all.