ryla

<3

i hope to see you, soon. 

come to my arms. 

the theory of fatalism states that 
          we are powerless to do anything other than 
          what we actually do. 
          i wonder if virginia woolf drowned 
          herself to death, believing that. 
          however, that doesn't change the fact 
          that i dreamt of my mother dying 
          at 3 40 in the morning. 
          that doesn't change the fact 
          that i was instantly stirred from sleep, 
          with my heart pounding like boiling water, 
          even sweating my insides.
          that doesn't change the fact 
          that in that moment, 
          i was a minute away from 
          believing in god. 
          that doesn't change the fact  
          that i was a millisecond away from 
          falling into your arms. 
          yesterday when my memory 
          was recollecting the details 
          of your face while you were scrounging 
          through the pages of 
          a kurt cobain book for a line or a phrase 
          like it was meant to melt 
          a bleak emotion 
          devoted to your childhood,
          i think i died a little.
          when i read the texts you had sent me
          44 days, 16 hours and 17 minutes ago,  
          saying i was only a passing image  
          you had associated the concept of beauty with,
          i think i cried a little. 
          but, when i inhaled the absent scent 
          of your cologne 
          i think i fell in love with you a little, 
          all over again.    
          i used to believe
          maybe, always and forever 
          is a phrase we attach moments to, 
          not people. 
          maybe, pain follows heartbreak 
          because we choose to brush- off 
          the deeply ingrained belief  
          that, that very moment holds the 
          only infinity we might share. 
          that was until i saw you 
          holding the existence of infinity  
          in the palm of your hand. 
          albert einstein's office was  
          an unmitigated mess the day 
          he died in 1955. 
          and i still wonder if he was as closer  
          as i was to you, 
          in unearthing something that would have 
          changed the way we look 
          at things, 
          at people, 
          at you.  
           
          from- the girl whose thoughts are as disassembled as einstein's not so dead office. 
                                                                                                             ~ryla
          
          
          
          

i love you with everything i have. 

@-lilacpoet ohmyheart. wyd to me, kay this is beautiful

sometimes when you are not around, 
          i romanticize geography. 
          yesterday i scaled the map 
          with my hand 
          and wished that it was as big as yours 
          that then i could've reduced the distance 
          from one hand span  
          to a half. 
          
          sometimes when you are not around, 
          i have affairs with metaphors. 
          when i told you  
          that i have 'hey there delilah' by plain white t's on the loop, 
          it was a metaphor  
          for 'i miss you', 
          for 'how many days till you call me from the airport to tell me you are coming home'. there are so many 
          things  
          i want to tell you 
          cupping your face; 
          that the sound of your voice  
          is my note of positivity, 
          that the whiskey is stale without your company, 
          that using years to measure distance  
          finally makes sense to me, 
          that what are rivers separating us 
          looks like a thousand freaking atlantics. 
          
          and maybe i will tell all of it to you  
          someday 
          when the distance finaly cracks me 
          and i hallucinate 
          and start looking at words 
          like they are suspension bridges. 
          
          most of the time when you are not around, 
          i think of geography and metaphors; 
          a scale for 'maddening distance' 
          a scale for 'why is he so far away?' 
          a metaphor for 'come back' 
          a metaphor for 'stay'.
          
          

SO HAPPY TO HAVE MY FAVOURITE LIL BEAN BACK YOU HAVE NO IDEA OML

Stfu sloth

I'm eating a blueberry bagel con el queso de leche (yeah, no. I don't think that's how you say cream cheese in Spanish)
          Drinking a peppermint latte 
          Wanted mac and cheese, but decided against it
          Wearing two sweatshirts because why not? (It was cold this morning. I went into the bathroom and it was just frisk)