If you were a princess guarded by a dragon, I would climb to the tallest tower by rope or vine the tips of my sturdy shoes digging within every nook and cranny propelling my body upwards towards your heavenly presence. My fingertips would grasp the ledge in determined solidarity until my stubborn form glided inside your prison cell. My feet would carry my trembling knees towards your feminine bed until I leaned down to gently kiss your plump, rosy lips to awaken you, the dragon slew. We would ride away in the sunset perched atop my trusty steed. Happily ever after.
If you were a victim of some awful kidnapping in a foreign country, I would fly overseas and rescue you. My search beginning at the airport where you landed following a logical trail towards your apartment. Infiltrating security offices and compromising video surveillance if necessary. Once the kidnappers were thoroughly identified and located, nothing could stop me. After each villainous aggressor was pacified, i would arrive and carry you. Explosions echoing in the background we would walk away lips pressed in a ground shaking kiss.
If you owned a flower shoppe working day to day with pain in your back, I would arrive and change your whole life. Romantic dates and candlelit meetings. My massive funds financing your business while you taught me the love of flowers you harbored. The two of us leading the life of simplicity carrying little to know needs until we began raising a family. Always happy.
But our lives are not that of any fantastical world found within the pages of “Pagemaster” or “Labrynth”. Nor are our lives mirror images of any action packed film requiring such heroic deeds and life threatening feats. Our lives do not even resemble a heart wrenching romance story spreading a message of simplistic love easily obtained and maintained in this day and age. No, we are not characters in a Broadway play. We are two women in different places and time whose hearts fate intertwined throughout time.
As fantastical as our love could be, as fantastical as what we have may be, as adventerous as our spirits are and as romantic as our hearts are, we must write our own tale whether romantic or otherwise.
You say you love me. I do not think you are able. Not when you wander around your own town with your heart on your hands and everyone else’s lips. Your blood trickles down your arms and leaves a trail behind that does not lie. You speak these words that you know so little about. I think your conscious just needs something to spout. My love for you provides nothing but genuine kindness and understanding. I go out of my way to make you happy best I can and you are not even mine. Your “love” for me causes only pain. You yell and curse towards me for no reason other than you can.
And still my heart bleeds for you. For you?
Or because of you?
You taught me nothing of love other than to never expect it back. Every time my heart would swell and burst with love for you, you merely glanced upon its remains littering the ground and commented on the mess I made carelessly handing me some paper towels. I am not sure I will ever be able to answer why I yearn so desperately to try to feel your love just once in this short life time. Just once to feel a genuine emotion cascading from your heart in the true beauty comparable to Niagra waterfall. But time and time again you prove just how unsuited it would become you.
And still my heart bleeds for you. For you?
Or because of you?
Only time will tell.
I lost my way somewhere between the owl of wisdom and the tree of virtue along the path of life. I heard the hoot above my head and glanced my brow against a limb. I fell face first in someone else’s excrement.
Help me out. Shed some light on the roots ensnaring my feet and lead me to the cleanest leaves. This filth written plainly across my face must vanish so I can easily blend in with society.
Why would I want to blend with society?
I’m not sure.
Everything I need currently surrounds me. It can be found above my head or at my feet. The forest of existence truly contains everything. The great circle of life in its most natural form. Truth in its unfiltered light rains down upon my beaten brow warming my mind.
Society drowns beneath the tumultuous tides of media suggestion and popular opinion. When in a world where popular opinion is controlled by large corporations flashing their products across LED screens, why follow the masses so mindlessly? To stay clean? To blend in? When drowning beneath rampaging tides bombarding your back, is it really important to not make waves?
It takes various species to create a forest but they are all constantly dismissed to view the entire forest instead. Carelessly grouped together in favor of the “bigger picture”. Each species provides their own individualistic characteristics and contributes differently from the next to create the most beautiful ecosystem that allows all the species to thrive. Coexistence.
I lost my way somewhere along the laborious tree of life between the owl of wisdom and the tree of virtue. I fell into the filth beneath my feet and accepted my loss. Or so I thought. My fall from grace shed light upon my face. To function completely and efficiently as a society, an ecosystem, we must each remain true to ourselves and contribute independently. We all offer something unique. Thinking independently can create more change than following the duck tail waddling before your tired eyes.
I was once lost between knowledge and virtue. Until I found both.
My heart pumps the same fluid through my plump veins. My heart beats equally with each squeeze until my skin is flushed against the dying light. In this world that means nothing. Just like someone’s name. It means nothing to the surrounding masses. Pointless categorical techniques devised by a society demanding a deeper understanding of every possible thing. Pointless categories overflowing with details too elaborate to earn a closer glance from society. All we really have time for in this day and age is a glance anyways. Our faces buried deep within our technological “benefits” and our heads nestled neatly between our twin cheeks. It’s no wonder we see the world in shades of black.
As children we are taught to see and hear it all with an open mind. Devise our own methods of understanding. Comprehend the world around us. Understand the courses of action occurring around us continuously. Only to grow up into someone that is blind and deaf yet adamant to listen to their own voice without individualistic beliefs.
If the truth is not the answer then I will paint my death in red upon this page. I shall die like I lived: in truth and in ink.
Everyday we are told how to live, how to act, how and who to love. “Be good or be gone,” they whisper inside our minds. What does that even mean? Must we blindly follow an invisible leader to remain visible ourselves?
I would rather disappear to lead my own path of individualistic needs than remain visible and follow a million other footsteps through the mud and the muck.
My heart pumps the same fluid through my plump veins. My heart beats equally with each squeeze until my skin is flushed against the dying light. In this world that means nothing. Mindless zombies asking each other’s names. Empty shells in each other’s eyes.
I fade away.
The pain I feel is palpable in strength and ferocity. Its anger ripping through my flesh in fits of injustice and fear. Large gashes decorate my entirety, the blood pooling at my feet in some sticky display of pain and longing. My soles adhere to the surface, glued by gallons of torment until I forget how to move. Trapped within a prison of my own mind I starve and hallucinate that it will all be fine. Months without clippers I lash out at spectators with nails of diamond and steel wanting to see their blood dance across the ground as mine. Falling to the ground from exhaustion and loss blood quickly fills my mouth dripping from my eyes and nostrils until it is all I taste and feel. Heart wrenching sobs fill the silence.
I am damaged.
Crimson drops splatter across the ground as some goth band’s morbid drum beat pooling beneath my cheek until it is too sticky to speak. Only one constant remains as endless feet tread past.
The pain. Palpable to touch and too intense to feign. It fills my days and haunts my nights until I cannot even sleep. The pain of knowing my love does not want me anymore. And the unbearable pain from knowing I respect and love myself too much to ever want her back. Glued in place but not in time. Cursed to watch her life progress while struggling through mine.
Built in thoughts of immortality
Left to bake beneath moon and sun
Even statues must crumble in reality
Fading to dust when it is said and done.
Something once eternal, indestructible and strong
Now gliding on the wind with no song
Farewells must be spoken quickly if able
And let all wounds heal when able.
Lips trembling to speak and tongue dancing betwixt sharper teeth, dreaming of loving utterances caught adrift by one lover’s anxious ear.
Dreams are a curious thing.
So abstract and tumultuous as heaven or hell.
Yet, so joyous as to make us sing,
And so staggering as to make us yell.
Frightfully forgotten betwixt life and love. Painstakingly clinging to naive hopes for an above.