smoking the stars (My Guru)

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In the distance she heard a cry, it masked its own contradicting whisper.

She ran to where the matches lay.

Picking them up, she came.

With her match, she lit me up like a cigarette, allowing me to burden her with my toxic smoke.

Like a superhero, she comes right when she’s needed, fixing everything, never allowing herself to be fixed in return.

She bore my scars like she knew where they came from.

She was my bullet in a gun, she was my aim when I had non, the ground was shaky underneath, but she held it still.

Yea,

I’m thinking, getting her back was one of my greatest wins.

We lay entwined, listening to the dawn’s chorus.

When she’s with me, this reality is surreal.

She stroked my fingers and smiled.

That smile.

The one that told me everything her words couldn’t.

I could wait forever in her smile.

“Look up.” She whispered.

I did.

I looked up.

Her soul had written us in the stars. It happened long before this old world was born. We happened long before this old world ruined us.

And I couldn’t breathe.

She turned and said, “Are you alright?”

I must be fine, because my heart’s still beating.

I had no unspoken words to covert or hide from her anymore, I had no mask, no sad eyes smile she didn’t seem to see.

Us being here was never an accident, she had all of me through and through.

“I spilled my secrets to the moon, and she gave me you.” I told her.

Breathless I smiled at the moon, but she too couldn’t speak in happiness.

Because, looking up that night, every star in the universe became my story.

She would wait a lifetime for me, at least that’s what the dark told me.

And I knew that as much as I knew, I had already waited through all of my lifetimes for her.

Once upon a reality, my grip came loose and I let her slip away.

Once upon a dream we wandered hand in hand, slipping back into each other’s souls making peace with our mistakes.

For a thousand hours, would she silently read our story to me. Using the sky for the words she couldn’t say.

Until her throat could fight no more and she would grow as silent as the night.

The rumble of her voice, would coax me to sleep.

To dream again, finding a peace I seek in me, in dreams I had, full of thoughts of her.

So I slept, teasing her with silent breaths.

I slept; reminding her our best was yet to come.

And she,

She had no choice but to wait, awake.

I know I said it once before but it bears repeating, I think getting her back was one of my life’s greatest wins.

a simple irrational story.

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I want to tell you a story
Of the day
I wrote you into my existence,
I want to watch your face as I recite words of true beauty
A collaboration of sentences, that can only be described as you,
Magnificently,
Breathtakingly
You.
My descriptions will somehow always come short,
My words, will never be enough,
Just try this with me.
Shut your eyes,
I promise you’ll see more clearly if you do.
Because maybe when I tell you,
How you added something interesting to who I was,
Who I am..
How you made me believable,
How you turned me into the truth,
How you gave me something to fight for,
How for the first time,
I stayed ..
Maybe if you knew,
How with these humble words,
I let go of all my aches,
so you’d burden me with your own.
I’ll consume the sun and moon just to glow for you
Just to be on my way to mending your broken shell,
To making you whole again.
Just listen to our story,
Maybe you’ll see as clear as me,
It began with a request met halfway,
And just like that, I wrote you into my existence.
Placed you where you fit,
Along the folds of my body,
Right at the palm of my hand,
Grasping you to the infinite phenomenon that is us.
Tide to my existence you’ll stay. For as long as I breathe,
I exist.
And as long as I exist,
I am yours.

stickers

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When you ate fruit in my bed you took off the stickers and placed them on my wall next to you. I never touched them. Someone picked them off from the paint today. I had just been in a car accident and screamed at them in a panic to stop. They said the stickers could peel the paint, off of the wall, that it looked tacky, and continued scraping. My head hurts from the impact; did I mention it was a hit and run? All too similar, you asked if I was all right and then you left in such a hurry, I never even had a chance to breathe.

I wrote once that getting to know you was like finding the pieces of myself I lost, what was it about you that was so familiar? It felt less like I was getting to know you and more like I was remembering who you are, maybe its just the migraine but I still see now how every smile, every hand movement and every whisper only brought me to the conclusion that I have known you before, that I have loved you before, in another time, a different place, maybe some other existence. I was grateful that you understood me, the way my mind worked. It was just too easy being with you, like it was walking down the street today, knowing that you’ll fill in the gaps when I couldn’t explain something, not even to myself, you spoke to my mind and my heart reacted, kind of like a collision of separate worlds, you were my best best friend, the soul mate people took time to write poetry about, and I had that, for a second I had that, for one second, I no longer had anything to wish for. You gave me everything I ever wanted, I hate that you did that, but you did. The apartment was filled with you and I couldn’t seem to think of a single thing I craved then, I seemingly had it all, except I wanted more, I don’t want everyone else to be you, I just want you in my life, I wanted to be loved by you long before I ever knew a you existed among these Adams and Eves. This might seem out of the blue, but you never know when a hit a run can get you, my body’s bruised and I cant help but think for a second it hit me and my head started to spin and my body temperature ran high and I felt like a million roller coasters ran through me, but for a second, right before you put each sticker on my wall, you were the family I never had, you were everything that I am, only now I get to write a love story the way it was meant to be written, a tragedy. As I lay on your side of what used to be my safety, I think, maybe, I don’t like hit and runs so much.