Misguided.

What did such words mean? How do they roll off the tongue, with little or no adaptation to the air surrounding, and still survive in the calamity of the world? How do you whisper them into my ear? Such terms of endearment, and hostility, because you are too afraid to hold someone close. Your neck. The modest slope of flesh from your ear to your shoulder blade-speckled with kisses I gave with my eyes closed so tight. And you wash them away-you throw them into a sea of peppermint foam, left to meet an unloved fate. You do not hold me. You never did it right. Nights entangled were always muffled with the scent of cigarettes and whiskey lingering on the afterthought of your lips. You kiss. You breathe. And I realize slowly: your limbs function solely on a physical level. You do not move in love. Nor do you move in desire. You do not hold me to be closer-you hold me to avoid a face-the closed eyes, begging for your subtle enclosure. How many nights…how many nights you rolled over, to leave me alone. Staring at the ceiling-fruitlessly convincing myself that happiness was within my reach. That I was where I belonged. I should have known. Long ago. The night you crudely examined the physicality of a relationship we were never meant to have. I awoke the next morning, in tears, with smoke still in my lungs from the cigarette of closure I had on the porch. Alone. And you pretended we. Were. Okay. Never would I come to realize such a level of stability was unattainable in your presence. To this moment, I would hold you. I would tell you of my love for your skin. Your bright eyes. And the way that your nose curves slightly-things no one else could ever see. I would tell you of my faith-of my desire to see you succeed. I would hold your hand. And it still wouldn’t be enough. I give myself up. I hold out every inch of my existence in true consideration for your future happiness. I toss aside my own. And to this day, without your presence, your voice, you meaningless and useless chai teas and banters and hideously ignorant messages-I allow you to hold me. In the only way I know how.

You hold my mind.

My soul.

And I haven’t yet let go.

How completely homicidal is this incident?

For who’s fault is it-these brown and blue eyes never did open fully.

And perhaps…they never shall.

out.loud.

I haven't found much of a reason to use a computer, let alone the Internet, to connect.
But today...I was feeling lonely...and I decided I had more to share with the world than I thought.

I don't feel much.
And I'm hoping my words, or better yet, the words of another, will change that.

So here's to the adventures yet to come.
Adventures of a Fragile Star.