star dust and fluid self

i dream of you in delicate images, of fragile portraits built only in sleepy dreamy hazes, shivering at the sight of tumbling walls and shattered mirrors. yet i’m not built of glass, i’m an individual tracing outlines of you, a familiar stranger, sadly inaccessible, and i’m prying open the cracks within me only slightly, because if i expose the gaps, i illuminate the flaws and risks i’m (trying) and willing to take. my eyelashes flutter shut and i imagine the bits and pieces of star dust that created me, you and us, wondering if i’ll ever learn how to stop cowering behind the things i should say and start spilling the hastily formed sentiments; the words i tried to catch early in the morning, composing love letters in fog from the shower, before the wind blew them out of me. because sometimes you can’t keep it safe anymore, sometimes you have to take a risk, sometimes you have to be really goddamn honest with (or without) the promise of any reassurance or guarantee.

i may write great paragraphs about learning how to be brave, the twisted way i’ve thought that by shouting all of my secrets, i might become something bolder. but maybe i’m still not ready to say some things out loud yet, afraid my voice will quiver and my jumbled words will become nervous laughter, my mind falling into apologies and excuses. if i had the guts though, if i could gather the courage to look you in the eye and tell you everything that has been on my mind when you were standing in front of me all those times, and all those times i kept talking to you with my mouth full of bees so you couldn’t hear what i’m saying and tonight while sitting in the cold wind that wakes us up from the tingling skin to the core of our hearts, i would tell you this:

this is absolutely terrifying and i’m tapping my fingers in a steadying rhythm against my wrist to remember not to run away and not to destroy, not to repeat a passive aggressive path. because to me, this is big and this is heavy and i’m incredibly unprepared for it all. i feel all of this emotion welling up inside of me, a knot in my stomach, the swarm of bees in my chest and it has been so long since i felt a happiness that sits like a lump in my throat. so i claw my way through slowly unfolding ready to shout or cry or bury myself into a slight solitude so it will burn out with a small pop! but no matter the conflict of emotions, the net of protective keeping i’ve placed you into, there are some things that no matter how mixed up or complicated they might be, they fucking mean something. you can’t just ignore that and you can’t wonder where they might take you. you just have to lay it all out.

so here i’m. i’m ready to give you everything i’ve got, all the broken pieces and parts i’ve stitched back together with high hopes and good intentions. here are all my poorly told stories and histories i hoped to hide within myself, but shared too soon. here are my mistakes and successes, my flaws and my promises. here is all i’m, with shaking hands and an unsteady heart. here are my fearful thoughts and things i can’t quite articulate yet, my trust and my willingness to uncover everything ahead of us. because i’m tired of being safe and i’m tired of pretending it isn’t happening and i’m tired of wanting things and i’m tired of second guessing what all of this might mean;i’m keeping every goddamn finger i’ve, crossed that it is worth it in the end, when i want to believe in this so fully and deeply that it shakes me to my core.

i am crooked. i am old. i am placing all of my bets with pocket change. i am hoping to find you soon, and even from my deepest slumber and daylight moments spent wide-eyed, i know i will.

somehow i always am forgetting how difficult it can be to love fully, and to remain open armed and grateful.  how i don’t think my heart could get any bigger. and how i could fall farther in love with you than before. but here i’m, again and again.

how wonderful !

 

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