Home > Uncategorized > Enough


Tell me our love story. Only, don’t use any words – just your mouth. Don’t you know that I’m tired of reading between the lines, finding fault in every unsaid syllable, blaming myself for all the consonants that aren’t quite right? Everything is nothing, until it isn’t. Nothing is everything, until something changes. I don’t care if it comes without warning, as long as it comes. Change. Something to hold on to. Even if it blows the world apart.

I lied when I said this was all I wanted. You must’ve known, must’ve understood. You always could feel the current of my heart. I never meant for either of us to drown in it, but here we are – waist-deep in chaos, trying to pretend that things are fine just the way they are.

It is what it is, and we are what we are. Only, we are more than we’ve ever dared and much less than we could be. I’ve stayed quiet for far too long. Minded all the manners I could tolerate. Walked a line so fine it often felt like razor wire. But that’s not what we were born for. Kisses aren’t circus tricks, and we are not here to entertain. Damn the crowds and all the crows – let the world have its fun. I have never been one of the maddening mob.

But I want to hear you say it. It isn’t too much to ask. The truth may be difficult and far-fetched, but every mirror in my heart shows you. I can do nothing to change the reflection, but I’ve always been brave enough to look, dead on. I’m tired of the way love sometimes feels like an apology, as if it needs to beg forgiveness for its own existence. We are not beggars. This is no last supper. This is no abandoned town made of ghosts. We are not memory. We are curved steel and a prayer made of passion – but I deserve to count the rosary of your bones without a backward glance. Without feeling the fire of your pulse pulling down the forest in your head, thoughts rising like too much black smoke. Darling, we are not made for destruction. But to truly build a new world, we need untied wrists and undone knots.

Begin by telling me our love story. Go on. Every inch of me is listening.

Categories: Uncategorized Tags: , ,
  1. August 4, 2015 at 8:43 pm

    Reblogged this on Existentialists R Us and commented:

  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: