I ran until I couldn't anymore. I held his hand so I wouldn't trip and I never sought anything other than his fingers wrapped around mine. around me.
now I think about other fingers. smiles and teeth. in my dreams I see hooded eyes and make promises that cannot be kept. these people in my dreams always come and go. who would stay?
my progression has been warped by a lack of touch. my summer identity smothered by autumn leaves. I rake and rake but nothing changes. I keep crying.
I wonder if she would hold my eyes with her's. if her green would turn my skin mossy. it's presumptuous to think I could ever carry another. I'm not strong enough.
my bravery sank to the floor and washed through the cracks. I want so much that is out of my reach. could I reach it if I tried hard enough? I'm afraid of the fall from glory, even though I never have risen. I rose in private, in the longest summer of my life, in a boy's bedroom who I met through a friend.
I felt like leftovers. but it didn't matter when he whispered I love you into my mouth. in a dark room where our breath was louder than the thumping of the party outside. the first night I ever snuck out.
now I dream of a different face every night. maybe I am seeing into realities where I still have my bravery, my body, whatever may entice another into prolonged eye contact and late night conversations.
I feel like if anyone tried to know me, they would love me. I feel that way. like I'm too good maybe, for who I am. problem is I'm not good enough. and that's just a fact. because if I met their standards, things would be different, I would be different.
now I drown in my love. I choke it down so that it doesn't infect someone else. I am the perfect friend. nothing more, nothing less.
my inexperience makes me feel lesser. my experiences make me feel whole. maybe as I grow I can become more. I feel much more than I did two summers ago, and yet so much less, too. everyday I wake up with a different face. I've grown accustomed to the stranger I see in the mirror.
it's not fair. everyone steals things from me. I exist in their minds but they don't fucking acknowledge it. they take and take and never give. I take and take and never give. humans eat and eat and eat. diets of ideas, food for thought. what will happen when there is nothing left?
eventually there will be nothing left. but maybe, when everything is gone, my alarm clock will go off and I will have to get up again anyway.
