Her & her

her

It feels wrong to love you in the way I do

I am the remnants of a volcanic eruption, where the mountain spewed an overdose of sleeping pills and the scars of self-hatred, not boiling magma

The ashes formed of the dust that lines the chamber in my heart where my confidence and self-love are supposed to lie

Ashes formed of the corpses that line the halls of my museum of memories

Ashes that will only smear your jeans and white canvas shoes that somehow are always gleaming in my memories of you

-but that may just be because I can't imagine them reflecting anything but the full weight of your smile-

You are the life my bubbling blood aches to cascade it's way towards

Green hills, pink flowers, evergreens, foxes,  bluejays, even your mosquitos

I will only burn you to the ash that I have become

And turn your clear blue skies into a smog that will coat your lungs until you begin to cough up chilled blood and phlegm coloured by the distortions of demons

My pumice formed from the leftovers of the razors I snap in time to the clock chiming the arrival of the witch's hour will only nick your kneecaps as you kneel in my ashes and attempt to fertilize the seeds you are convinced are encased within

And it should be my blood that spills

-never yours-

It feels wrong to love you the way I do

We've been best friends for so long

We grew up together

We played Polly Pockets and house in your massive bedroom

We climbed onto your four poster bed like it was the Sierras in your shrinking bedroom

We sprawl across the floor every summer with Cristin and Lily and the blow up mattress in your cramped bedroom

Our mothers were pregnant together

We knew each other through amniotic fluid and layers of skin long before we ever breathed the same air

Your parents supported mine when my grandfather murdered Grandma Cheryl, ensuring I could never meet her

You are a part of me

-I can't lose you-

It feels wrong to love you the way I do

But I do

Oh but I do

I love the lightness in your laugh, how it floats feathers of angels along the wind you remind me is called 'Spirit' in Hebrew

-I always think of you when I feel the Spirit

The breaths that tickle the tops of the trees outside my bedroom window never fail to make me smile-

I love how your smile breathes fresh air into my saddened soul

The way the sun reflects the forest of life in your eyes

I love listening to you tell your stories

The rise and fall of your voice

Your cadence

Your vicious sarcasm and quick wit and quicker words

Your elaborate jokes

I love hearing about the assholes you have to call

I love supporting you and reminding you how wonderful you are

I love you in every way I never knew I could