dont leave flowers on my grave

xxv. the fool is she who loves

i know that your words were prodded by drunkenness, rambled out on a whim, but i cannot help but think you allowed your heart to speak for you. just once. perhaps it was nothing but evanescence, but it meant everything to me.

and yet it shouldn't. i shouldn't be feeling this; not for you. the erratic clarion of my heart shouldn't be ringing in your ears. please do not make me the oxygen you need to breathe and live to see another day. i shouldn't be the one on your mind after you've chased sleep that leaves you restless. every light is off, as the shadowing storm outside your four walls encompasses and overcomes. it's been hours. slate orbs are focused on interpretation of the gloaming, twilit empyrean. don't look away, don't let your mind wander, not to the shadows dancing on the wall, nor the poltergeists knocking on your door, nor to me. for it may never return the same. i know you know i'm no good for you.

my dreams have returned to the lucent, supernal sun, and every morning i wake to you waiting for me patiently within my mind's eye. i need to rationalize these thoughts. i need to stay the hell away from you; avoid you like a goddamn plague of death. i have no self control. even when you leave, it's like you never seem to leave me.

if i have my way, you'll never understand how often i bite my tongue until i taste blood for you, how many times a day i must remind myself of the cruel reality before me: your love never is for me, too. i've had one foot in the grave that i dug long ago. i slipped, fell headfirst into it. maybe i was pushed. yet you found me in quietude amidst the echoes in my mind. i remember how gentle you were with my fragile body. the calloused pads of your thumb smudged the soot and dirt on my cheeks. i remember. it was like my eyes had been shut for all those years, until you woke me up. in a past life, a ghost once touched me, so i no longer feel. unless i'm only inches away from falling deeper into you. the rules don't apply with you; i am breaking them subconsciously, one by one.

i can't be sure if i want to call you mine, but the idea of someone holding you as the moon cradles your unfamiliar skin - a dazing gyre of dolour and a repetition of careening waves lave me senseless, choking, gasping for sweet air to relieve my spasmodic lungs. do i want it to be me who your arms reach out for in the dark, the one who you cling onto for dearest life? maybe, i just want to mean anything to you.

if loving you is for the foolish, then i must be the fool. loving you is star-crossed, yet karma shows no favor. god knows, loving you will be the death of me as i burn in volatility, as i mercifully destroy myself ever so slowly, just as the stars in descent from the void tend to do.