Prose

And

Seven

Your eyes are beautiful when they are focused on your hands. When you are carving lines into the clay for what seems like the hundredth time and you look up for a second, you are stunning. You radiate an almost freezing air and I've always loved the cold. I have always adored the way you look at me like I am the world you want to destroy. I have always loved the way you look at me like I have said something that absolutely captivates you and you will not look away until I look back. Your eyes are beautiful when they are on me.

Because you are a burning building and I stand in your rooms and I just want to tell you you are beautiful and full of a darkness and a light and a cold and a warmth and a hatred and a love and I should not have walked past your gates and unlocked your doors and ran through your hallways and I should not have stood in the center of a gasoline coated floor and lit the fire that is growing inside my chest every time I think of the word gone or what I want to do in my life after you and I cannot breathe smoke is filling my lungs and I cannot breathe and I cannot see and I cannot do anything except scream your name your name only just your name it is all I ever cared about but I cannot and I will not and I refuse to leave because you enchant the deepest parts of my mind and my legs are not moving and my mind is slowing down and you are a burning building that I can only call beautiful.

June 11, 2014 6:35pm