neither here nor there
Jun. 18th, 2017 05:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
redcheekdays posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
mygeeseourgeesei.
it’s both inconvenient and incredible that I only know how to write about you in motion. suspended somewhere between the chicago and buffalo airports, I can’t guess where I was as the blue ink smeared itself all over my right hand and the pounding in my skull became more than an annoyance. I think that’s fitting.
ii.
you mentioned once that you dreamed of traveling, taking a plane not going to buffalo or chicago but to a place I can’t pronounce. I think that’s fitting too. I suppose I’m really only able to write about you in motion because when I close my eyes you are never in one place. you’re blurred. driving your white car down that dark road, speeding until I could see myself dying and not caring one bit. nudging a book across a table with scarred palms. eyes that would dart from my cheek to the floor, from my hands to the door.
iii.
if we’re being honest and sincere like I’m trying to be, I’ve yet to discover where in this endlessly rotating cycle I have the means to love you. right here, I don’t. not in the catastrophic way I know that I could. but, at the same time, too many of my atoms have invested themselves into waiting for you than to give up on sunflowers and being more than that girl from the spring before everything changed.
iv.
granted, I’m also positive that there’s more than simply empty space between point a and point b, but neither of us are naive enough to dive into something so hopelessly uncharted. actually, maybe I am. maybe I shouldn’t be.
v.
all I really know is that every night, around 3:30am, I wake up with my palm pressed gently into the area connecting my neck to my shoulder blade. this, this is where we exist. this is where I try to find you.
it’s both inconvenient and incredible that I only know how to write about you in motion. suspended somewhere between the chicago and buffalo airports, I can’t guess where I was as the blue ink smeared itself all over my right hand and the pounding in my skull became more than an annoyance. I think that’s fitting.
ii.
you mentioned once that you dreamed of traveling, taking a plane not going to buffalo or chicago but to a place I can’t pronounce. I think that’s fitting too. I suppose I’m really only able to write about you in motion because when I close my eyes you are never in one place. you’re blurred. driving your white car down that dark road, speeding until I could see myself dying and not caring one bit. nudging a book across a table with scarred palms. eyes that would dart from my cheek to the floor, from my hands to the door.
iii.
if we’re being honest and sincere like I’m trying to be, I’ve yet to discover where in this endlessly rotating cycle I have the means to love you. right here, I don’t. not in the catastrophic way I know that I could. but, at the same time, too many of my atoms have invested themselves into waiting for you than to give up on sunflowers and being more than that girl from the spring before everything changed.
iv.
granted, I’m also positive that there’s more than simply empty space between point a and point b, but neither of us are naive enough to dive into something so hopelessly uncharted. actually, maybe I am. maybe I shouldn’t be.
v.
all I really know is that every night, around 3:30am, I wake up with my palm pressed gently into the area connecting my neck to my shoulder blade. this, this is where we exist. this is where I try to find you.
