distance.

taken from my myspace blog, put somewhere safe.

I'm full.
Of your secrets, of mine. It's all pressed against the glasssteaming, writhing, writing.
I'm full.
Fraying at the stitching.
The threads that keep me to you to me.
I'm full.
Sometimes, I want to freeze our moments. Like the people burnt out and saved, all at once, by the ash from volcanoes. I want to fill those casts with glitter, sparkle babies of you and me, so that when they explode, when everything is shattered and all that's left is rust and stardust, it'll look like a magic trick.
I'm full. Worn and rough, aching.
When it comes to us, it's better to never ever ever ever ever wonder why. Why the wretched feelings are the only, the best, feelings. Why there's so much joy when we're tearing worlds apart. Why Aphrodite could be so cruel, and why the sea God never just let her go. Why we bruise so easily, but never manage to draw blood.