And if the Feelings Don't Fit

Very stream of consciousness. Has grammatical/spelling errors because I haven't bothered to edit it.

The floating of the parenthetical manipulation leaves me with a heart forced into something that never seemed correct, nor pleasant. I leave myself behind, examining my nails in the rearview mirror of my life. Its never looked so easy from an outside perspective but we make it work. Waking up in your arms is my gospel. Knowing your face like chapter and verse, and examining silently the careful torment your shoulders put me through. I give you the looks I reserve for happiness, and you reward me with the look you reserve for me. I can’t leave my mind away from you, though I’ve tried. You own me like I had no choice, and I leave you to your business because I pretend I have no choice. I love the mornings when you know how to hold my hand and give me the time to catch you if your falling. So my mind pretends to stay intact, and I allow myself that small bit of manipulation. I fantasize that my soul is still mine in whole, and not intertwined, intermingled with yours. I think of your eyes when you smile and the way you rub your hand over you jaw when your confused. I’m so lost and your sea is so enormous and I’m floating floating floating into some great sort of abyss that looks terrifying from a distance and like the great deceiver up close. Because its stunning and has all the promises that made bedazzled a good film. But I know that the closer I get the more lost I am, and though I can’t see into the abyss I know that it will be a horror, as love always is. Now I can’t distinguish whether you are the deviant or its just the possession of my heart itself. I know I’m broken if I choose to leave, and inside my mind it warns me I’ll lay on the ground as trapped and forgotten as the broken doll I’ll look like. It’s a terrible thing to allow oneself the onerous task of reflecting on the future in the minds eye. I imagine it as though I actually know, but all I really know that here right now in this present moment your arms are warm and trapping me to your chest. You smell like happiness and winter, and that kills me a little inside. You scrunch up your nose when you sleep, did you know that. You wrinkle it like you smell something unusual, or maybe just  like a rabbit. But it doesn’t really matter because I love watching you sleep, and what could be more of a sail turning me toward the abyss. But the metaphors and predictions start to lose their affect when I look at the peaceful memory of your arms and their strength and muscles you wouldn’t expect because you hide them behind glasses. Speaking of glasses you never look at them as half full or half empty you always see them as full. You always used to tell me that the glass is always full, but ask me what its full of. Because if you’ve no interest in water, or water means drowning, or water means bad things than its not full of good things is it. However you also said it could be a mix, like for me in reference to you it would be the things I love about you and the things I fear more than anything. So what would that glass look like? Maybe a champagne flute, drink of choice for a great night and fantastic mistakes. Maybe the glass I used the first time you took me out, you remember the one. We joked about it at that strange restaurant on the lower east side. You know the glass with the pinup girl on the side looking like she slid from a mudflap to advertise beer and sexuality. I guess that’s us too. I guess its all us, every memory and every glass we’ve ever used. I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Do you remember the glass that shattered during our first fight. It wasn’t thrown or pushed, it was an accident, an elbow to its surface. When it shattered you and I looked at each other with a hint of humor, but more shock. It snapped something and then we were clinging to each other like alternate life vests. You were scared I would leave you and I was scared you’d break my heart. Still am, as a matter of fact. Its hard to imagine it, seeing as no one’s ever had my heart. There have been others to brush against it, hold it briefly in the most panic inducing way. But you have it in your possession all the time. And what on earth does that mean? I gave it willingly too, I glanced in your direction and offered you a moment to hold it. But as you held it you looked to me, and meeting my eyes entirely you slid it into your shirt pocket, buttoning it smoothly then hugging me tightly. From that moment on, I haven’t seen it except in your eyes. I wonder sometime if I have yours, it wasn’t quite so dramatic with you and I lose track. I know I have it somewhere, but you gave it more easily and sometimes I misplace it. But here in this present moment I know its somewhere nearby watching us and conversing with my own heart about how cute we look all snug here asleep. Or asleep in your case. My mind works too hard, you always say. Its why I don’t sleep, it just keeps telling me things and never lets my subconscious take over on that front. When it comes to the two of us, I get concerned sometimes for your sleep, afraid my mind will be loud enough to keep you up at night. But you always fall asleep with that wrinkled nose, and your arms tight around me. I guess from the outside we look pretty good, fairly normal for couples in love. But on the inside I only know how I feel and for me its so far from normal. I have friends that fall in and out of love like diving into pool just to get out and do it again. But me, it took years for me to make it off that diving board and I think I’ll just swim awhile. If your feeling up to it, you can swim with me you know. The water’s warm and we can wade through, I’m going to ask you  when you wake up if you want to wade with me. I think you’ll say yes, I really do. 

Reviews

[MoriartyMesa]

Waitress, we are going to need six rounds of Whiskey sours with Absinth chasers for this one. Like a pick axe to an ex-boyfriends car, like a drunk driver hitting a swimming pool, or a gator eating a fat kid playing to close to the river.

This is one hell of a bite of pain, sorrow, and a bit of BDSM or maybe I am wrong. The emotional effects feel like a car slamming on the breaks, only to hit the gas one more time.

Sweet job
100 points,
and the next round of drinks is on you cause im broke.

[Whales]

This is quite wonderful.