seminal

This is the life cycle, the passing on of all you possess, the inescapable ending of swimming strands. Pace is the trick and it’s a matter of security. I rode the bus seventy miles to come back to this place that holds so much within its walls – It smells like my tricks, it looks like my loneliness, it feels like stale hope. Once I lay on the bed and loved, once I let warm truth stream down my face, once I pressed a blade into soft flesh and stifled loud gasps, once I slipped pink pleasure upon my tongue. Once I gave everything I had to a boy with messy hair, tired eyes, a boy with bruised organs and coaxing lips, even a girl filled with desire and nowhere to put the love trapped in her heart. Once I ran my hands through your soft hair and took away your solitude, I took it all and never looked back. You gave me little circles of happiness and I eagerly swallowed them in the hope of glowing like I used to before your name ever crossed between my sore lips. Once you touched my face tenderly, once you touched it with anger and left me with nowhere to put displaced forgiveness. These walls have never slipped up, they’ve never exposed the flames that engulf the old trees behind your house or the footprints that keep seedlings from breaking through the crude surface. Once I was kissed in the wet grass as it reached up begging to tickle my bare legs. He sleeps with one hand around my throat, the other between my legs, softly moving his fingers up and down the scars covering otherwise pure flesh. The sun shines through the window and makes my hair sparkle like your eyes after the first night, it’s always the few seconds before and the long minutes after. I always turn away and look out the foggy opening at the trees wishing for someone to hear them, towering above the source of their inevitable destruction. I imagine floating above them, watching the people of this city love themselves, hate each other, hate themselves, it’s all part of that same cycle. Floating and watching the leaves change colour and fall to the ground, watching the frantic blur of skin and fur as each fights for survival. And this is the life cycle.