messy hearts

Lia

Nothing, everything and then nothing again.

That's the only way I can shortly describe love.

Nothing is just routine as usual, Early morning rise, cigarette, strong coffee, school, study, work, another cigarette, more coffee, alcohol, cigarettes, coffee, oh its 4am, best get rested for the exam I have tomorrow morning, oh wait, it is morning, I have an exam in three hours and im still drunk. Shit.

And then everything, it comes all at once and thumps you in the heart and you loose breath a little as she walks in and you just, stare. Like a creep, except your not a creep, but your not really pulling off the whole 'Oh hey there! I am not a creep!' look right now, and so everything happens for so long and your bad habits turn to memories and then one day, you get that feeling again. The same all at once feeling of a thump in your heart as you loose breath a little except this time your bruised and kind of torn and your winded, the breath just doesn't come back for a while because so suddenly she is gone and everything is nothing again as she has taken everything that made you whole.

Memories evolve back to bad habits and routine, Early morning rise, cigarette, strong coffee, school, study, work, another cigarette, more coffee, alcohol, cigarettes, coffee, but this time you don't prepare yourself for that exam and you dont sober up you just stay drunk in bed, trying to forget that everything you felt but pretending at the same time that you do not feel that nothing because you don't want it but it demands to be felt anyway.

Love is just a fuck, ya know?

A twisted, heart throbbing, oozing, red, mess of a fuck.

I just fucking loved too much that was my problem. I loved and loved until my heart burst at the seems and released colours so beautiful I never even knew they existed! It was just a shame that the girl I was in love with had eyes, but could not see what I saw.

Lia had this deformed, artistic, dark view of everything and that was one of her traits I just adored. She was an abstract painting, she was messy and a little on edge, but she was such a beautiful mess that she made you feel everything all at once and that's what art is meant to do, make you feel and think of endless possibilities. And for that, she was a masterpiece, artwork worth millions.

I have a polaroid photograph of her folded in the pocket of my wallet, i take it out every time i need to feel again, whenever that gaping hole of icey air opens up she fills it with a warm sting of comfort that smells of lavender and burning candles.

She looks so content in the simplest ways in this photo and so beautiful. Fuck she looks so beautiful.

She sits on the window sill of my brick apartment in her wine red knickers and my black shirt that is so incredibly large for her yet she stills pulls it off as its droops around her fragile frame. She is sat, one leg swinging and the other up on the window sill as she observes the city life from the window, sipping coffee from her favourite purple mug. Her hair is a mess from the night before and her eyeliner is slightly smudged but she still looks perfect, the light from the burnt tangerine sky contouring every definition in her face with a structure so sharp.

Taking this photograph,I swear, in this moment, i knew i was in the abis of a devouring love and some how, with these whirls of lust for Lia, i contained a hot anxiety that told me she would break my heart as my everything stopped and became nothing again.

I also knew, that i did not care if she did, because i was content with my everything.

For in that moment? My everything was Lia.