teal.

mar 5, 2018

I don't strive to write about the times I thought I fell in love,
my heart beating for someone who has lost theirs and
that in the end, my empty stomach only held butterfly corpses
dipped in blood and heartbreak and tears and gore and acid.

I don't want to write about my favorite teacher
or my mother who always does everything for me
or that friend I can always talk to about everything,
our words tumbling excitedly out of our lips.

I don't write stories of my childhood or my adolescence
the bridge between them breaking and
falling into the rushing water below
where I slowly sink, breathing in water and drifting snow

I don't write about moments where I want to stop existing,
or thoughts I wish I stopped thinking or people I want to stop seeing,
or words I want to start cursing or habits I wish I stopped doing,
or this body I want to start starving or this life I want to stop living.

I write about feelings, not experiences.

I write about that feeling you get when you're doing homework,
while listening to music that glitters and throbs,
and suddenly you see pinks and oranges and reds and,
you want to explode in the best way possible.

I write about the emotions I feel in the middle of the night,
when I'm crying off my eyeliner and wondering where I went wrong.
I write about the numbness and the absence of feelings,
and the sting of reality when I walk through the door.

I write about feelings for a person, feelings towards people,
feelings toward yourself, feelings about this moment in time,
feelings that can't be explained, overrated feelings,
feelings that aren't feelings, feelings that are felt so strongly, it's amazing how your lungs have yet to be crushed.

I write feelings.