Lost in Crazy..

How sinister it is for a memory to linger on skin like the very dark end of a very long tunnel, like an alcohol rub against an open wound, like my back pressed against hot asphalt. Like your hands never reaching for mine. And my heart walking out on yours. Like all my memories, bundled, hidden and trickling out the barrel of your shouting tongue. Burn me in my blood, waste it away. For every drop will grow a blossom. Evergreen, ever-reminding of what the little kids needed to feed/feel to be.

Your lips, my skin, the high and me thinking that this boy was made for us to meet. Isolated moments in time should stay there. In a place of nostalgia and maybe regret. Isolate that moment and put it in my hand. Curl it up. Forget it. Deny its existence, for personal growth requires matter and that was a void.

It is in the spaces between how far removed we feel we've become from everything that made us people, everything that made us real.      Enough time, enough disappointments and you'll become the one going beyond compromise for compromise.  What value is skin touched empty? What weight is flesh not torn apart? Life is not a path life is a metamorphosis, and how much we become at the end equates to how much we've pushed against the confinements we'll always be tangled in.  

The cigarettes I don't smoke, the face I used to know and the coolness in the heat. The pretty boy, the perfect music and my laugh. The home inside a home, Lana and my passion. The roll, the smoke, all our songs and the side of her face.

Fills us up quickly, Leaves us slowly, And puts us on a track that we spend the rest of our lives tracing. Escape the pattern.

To the point in time when distance between us seemed too foreign of a concept. When love was one, yellow and bright. When the sparks in your eyes lit fires to my brain. It wasn't the passage of time alone that got us this far removed from how parallel we stood. The loneliness, the loss, the search and the cluttered minds. I hope you put everything back in there. I hope your heart found the right chest and that your little dreams grew bigger trees. To almost forgetting what you've loved in me.

Left to wonder how many parts of you are still tainted with how you loved them once? It is okay to love, get disappointed, break your heart, grow into the being you are today in the process.  In the shames of being a little broken hearted girl I gathered myself above it and looked the other way. I let it go on for too long untapped and trenched. Thinking that rising above it means looking the other way. The truth is life is taking your heart out for others and letting them scar it to prove you've existed. It means nothing today, but it still means everything.  I can barely remember anything of what it was, but I still remember it all. And I pray for the day that my heart finds a way to believe the way I believed in you.