i’m spitting up little bits of myself. it’s okay. i don’t know why they call it breaking a heart. it feels like you took it in your fist and tore it apart. like if you squeeze something too much it pops. it’s good. i knew you would do this, i just forgot. something about you made me forget. i knew you would break me. i just wanted to pretend.
it’s just that sometimes i get lonely and i can’t really put my finger only why. it’s just that when it’s two in the morning i have no one to text about the nightmares. nobody wants to hear about them. it’s just i’d like to be special once. i know that’s selfish. but i feel like if i forgot to scoop myself out of bed and rotted here instead nobody would notice i didn’t show up. i feel like nobody cares if i show up. isn’t that terrible of me. isn’t that fucked up.
I’m telling myself it’s okay. I loved you with my everything and you just needed something different than I could put together. I’m saying I was a building sandcastles kind of person and you always asked why I bothered when it was going to wash away. I think we did our best. I’m saying I know she’ll be better than me in the end but I tried so hard I broke myself for it. That’s what I’ve been saying to myself, I guess: at least you tried. It’s just that you needed something different.
it’s getting messy. lex calls me on tuesday and leaves a voicemail. “i know you’re ignoring calls right now but we miss you.” i listen to that six times in a row and almost text back. everything sounds fake. what am i gonna say. sorry yet again i made you feel like you don’t matter to me. even the sun doesn’t matter to me. even my own body. i mark the message as “unseen” and hope i one day have the energy. getting back is always so many steps, so many apologies. the little things pile up. sorry about that time i let you down. oh and the other one. oh and those small things you never mentioned but we both know bother you. i want to fix things. i do. but i just don’t know how to.
i dreamed of a world without you,where i was emptied like a fish, my skin unfamiliar when it was untouched by you. i dreamed of a world where we were not one, where you never kissed me by accident and then again on purpose, where the two of us never got caught up in the moment. was i happier there? was i happier not knowing the ending? all i know is that it was a late morning, and i woke up sweating, and i live in the world where i cannot kiss you anymore. it’s okay, almost. i’m figuring out how that works. it’s just that i drank coffee. it’s just i don’t want to go to bed. it’s just i don’t know how to be better off without you. i can’t get you out of my head.
He is brighter up close. More than you could ever imagine. He is half-god, half-dream. When the war comes–and the war will come–his eyes will turn to ichor. His skin will harden, harshen. The tragedy is that he will love you still. He will return, blink away the grandeur of godhood, come to you human and bare and seeking. He will be his brightest when you see his smile.
He will be the sharpest when he shapes a different smile of his spear.
today i kissed a god. he of bitter rage and tears staining gold-tracks right down his face, hands gripping my shoulders, eyes open, open and staring. what did it feel like? he asked. how does it feel like to kiss something so holy, to feel your insides burning up, every single angel screaming in perfect, damning chorus? today i kissed a god, and told him that nothing he ever did would make him human. today i kissed a god and made him weep.