38.
Do you know how it feels when none of it’s real? The painful beat of a heart so incomplete as it struggles to comprehend everything its fed? I know. I know because it’s the only way I can function. It’s that assumption that drives me mad, that presumption that I somehow know who’s just a comrade and who’s MORE than that. The feeling that my bleeding chest knows what’s best for me in the long run, my head trying to protest as I fall desperately in love with you. It’s the honeymoon phase that fucks with me. The plucking of those infernal heartstrings like I’m convincing myself that this out-of-tune piano is Mozart, in no part forcing myself to ask the real questions Do I love the being, or is it just the feeling of surrender to the fleeting moment of happiness my heart craves? When my head caves and I lose all rational sense, the past perfect tense of “What if she HAD loved me” Blinding me from seeing the reality of the situation. Maybe I just need validation. Maybe I just need someone to hold me tight, But all I can remember is the rapid beat of my fragile heart as we sang streetlights around the amber glow of that sandalwood scented candle. I replace TLC with THC while you cut your teeth on sheets in Paris and I ask; You wanna know why? It’s because you are the green light on the dock, the garden parties and the money spent in the pursuit of that idealised love. I? I am the car accident, the haunting eyes and the realisation that she will never, ever love you. And that’s just how it is.
