Everyday I Get Older And I Understand The World A Little Better. And Yet I Never Have Any More Control

Greedy are the trees

"Haven't you ever seen it?" She asked me.

"Gnarled roots pale as bone crawling their way through the underbrush. Pushing aside new green ferns and beds of decaying leaves. Each root peaking for long lengths from the damp dirt. Anchored maybe by the earth or maybe by thorny vines, sharp and thick with red-tipped spines. This is the work of the trees." She whispers this all to me in a conspiring way.

"You'll see them reaching with knothole fists towards the waters edge. Thirsty for what the spring has to offer; as if the ground isn't soft with it already." She pauses smile turned sharp and condescending in the way a mother's does when sharing stories of her child's mischief.

"Greedy things"

Colors under my skin

There's violet and lavender and lilac.

Like deep bruising, like sleepless night, like cold anemic skin.

It hurts somewhere between the cold defeat of blue and the hot anger of red.

But it's comforting too, like acceptance; acknowledgment; the first step to getting better.

And there's yellows too

Marigold and dandelion and polished bronze.

It's like warm sunshine, like soft flower petals, like sturdy statues.

It's encouraging; hotter and more pure than red but never as close as the color of life.

But it's intimidating too; like the mythical idea of being okay.

I thought I knew what I was getting myself into

I thought I could be good for both if us.

I thought the butterflies were anticipation

But now I feel like I'm using you to get over my own insecurities

I'm not good at the whole girlfriend thing

I'm scared to see you as mine

Maybe I just need some practice

Maybe I just need some time

If I mess this up it's not your fault

After all my problems are mine.

There are hands on my hips and I dread where they might go; cold and calloused and full of intent.

They inch up instead along my ribs; crawling and scraping against my skin.

Under my sternum they begin to dig; slicing deep with sharpened nails.

They stab and burrow deep in my chest; hands pressed in prayer barely brush my heart.

They snap my bones when they pull apart; prying me open to hungry eyes.

Yet still, I beat for their entertainment; exposed and bleeding and no longer me.

Here among the stars and brine

The souls sing and weep

Trying not in vain to lure a sailor from his sleep

They call it seduction, heavy and sweet

But is it a trap if they give you that for which your heart beats?

You loved me when we were both broken

But you got better and I didn't

Hurt like you

There's something about sea salt and brine and the way it sits behind your eyes.

Bright and blue and full of sorrow.

I know they only romanticize your pain; as if it's some great achievement.

They say they want to hurt like you, not out of ignorance.

Only because they don't want to hurt the way they already do.

The salt it stings and the foam dyes you blue.

But for them it's soft and soothes their burned to hurt the way you do.

I was never meant to have a body.

My tethered little pet.

So much responsibility to look after.

So much washing and clothing and tucking away.

I was never meant to rot so slowly.

From diseases, I will never know.

So much tending to my body needs.

So much aching and soothing and drugging away.

I was never meant to hold it's hand.

Like a mother holds a child.

So much guarding it needs.

So much hiding and cherishing and giving away.

I was never meant to have a body.

Comparing children is like comparing planets.

Being different doesn't mean one is better than the other.

Except when one is better than the other.

Don't you just hate it when you get the chance to talk. Like finally talk for the first time in forever. And you know it's been a while since you started but everyone else talks all the time so what if you go on for a while. But now people are changing the subject and the conversation is rolling naturally in another direction like conversations are supposed to do. But you weren't done and you can't move the conversation backwards so you just get quiet. Quiet like you always are. And you don't know how long it's gonna be this time before you can talk again.