We are the walking tempers that rupture in the absence of love.
We are the sand sodden by our tears, phantoms of thoughts.
We are the barren fumes of confusion, aching for us to become one.
Yet, yearning for nothing is a delusion that agony has spun.The wailing dust boils in the space around the great glittering blue, and humanity admires it's beauty. We call it a galaxy, heaven calls it something lonely. The things we cannot reach, so acute and unearthly.
That's what hurting feel like, constant and unrequited.
"Mom!" I sobbed, stumbling into the house.
"How's your friend? Did everything work out..." she paused, her eyes growing big with alarm.
She wheeled over to my side quickly, "What happened love?" she asked concerned.
I wiped away a river of tears, my lip quivering uncontrollably, "I'm a idiot" I hiccuped.
My mom wrapped her arms around me, just like she did when I was two and afraid of the dark. Her soft figure melted into me like a soft pillow. She held me tightly, taking my pain as if it was hers.
I sniffled trying to collect myself enough to explain what happened, "I swore I'd keep it casual with Dean and not get carried away and look at me I'm a mess!" I sobbed.
My mother's gentle hands brushed across my face, as she cleaned my nose, "Oh Cleo" she hummed.
I jumped up, moving away from her, "THAT IT! I'M SICK IN THE HEAD" I confirmed, "I MUST BE TO BE CARRYING ON ABOUT A GUY I BARELY MET AND DON'T EVEN KNOW HIS NAME" I groaned feeling stupid.
My mom watched me as I paced around, a look of bewilderment on her face.
I continued my rant, "I'm just pathetic! He says let's be friends and I'm devastated! I mean God forbid he actually left" I rambled, mentally slapping myself.
"Nova love" my mom said gently, "I have another diagnosis that doesn't involve a straight jacket?" she offered.
I turned to her, biting my lips, "electric shock?" I asked.
My mom frowned, rolling her eyes, "No, you're just a hopeless lover" she beckoned me sweetly, "when you were a baby you use to run up to strangers and hug them and share so much love. It was so sweet and scary, how trusting and loving you were" she pointed out.
My mom laughed, remembering my former days, "You have always given and given without hesitation. It's your greatest gift and heartbreak. Admit it, you secretly hoped Dean would stay around to love you too" she winked.
I blushed feeling shy, "I hoped he'd stay around to like me" I confessed.
My mom shook her head, "everything is a balance, including love. It's not always about accepting what we believe we deserve, but maybe it's about finding a realistic relationship" she emphasized.
Her Blue Jay voice paused as she looked at me sincerely, " I want someone that makes me feel sane, even at my worst, don't you?" she asked nudging me.
I calmed down, the flames doused out and the tightness in my body relaxed. My mom was right, she always was.
"You're addicted to love, or at least the crazy spur of the moment idea of it. You like the idea of passion while diving in with your eyes closed. You may even like the idea of a pain that makes you lose everything. " she hinted, her wise eyes twinkling at me.
"So basically, I'm a drama queen..." I groaned.
My mom laughed, the pleasant sound bellowed deep within her gut, "You want a Romeo & Juliet love, but you forget that they both died from impulsive and stupid decisions driven by a force of feeling. Passion killed them" she pointed out.
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Good Drugs
Poetry"Beg for mercy!" Dean demanded. His voice hummed lower than the purr of the RV engine running under the spurs of the hot sun. The cool teal between his stare oozed over my body like lava and I shivered in his tight grip. My lips scathed across th...