hannah-write

[hannah-write]

Ego

You are often too wrapped up in your sense of pride,

Too self involved to notice those who cherish you,

Obsessed with yourself and the way that you are seen.

This stoic exterior you have carved from the finest marble,

It only seems to edge closer and closer to decay.

I have long since accepted this aloof nature of yours,

Come to terms with the fact you will never say those three words.

I do not torture myself with thoughts of you changing for me,

I could never ask for you to be a better man,

It is impossible to mold marble like clay.

The way you say my name is starting to sound like ‘I love you’,

Each syllable curling along your tongue and teeth,

That alone is enough for me, at least for now.

I will sit as you are controlled by your ego,

For only that will begin your inevitable downfall.

[hannah-write]

For you I’d bleed myself dry

With bruised knuckles and bound wrists I surrender myself to you. I tied these knots myself, a sign of submission to the utilitarian power you have, I know them to be inescapable. Not that I want to escape them, I wish to sit back on my knees and worship you in all the ways that a God should be worshiped. I offer you all that I am with hopeless abandon, in lieu of sin and shame my flaws are laid bare for your judgement. I only hope that you do not cast me aside, I hope you accept me as a slave to your perfections.

Despite my devotion, you look at me with this silent indifference, completely unperturbed as I hand you my bloodied heart. You scoff, casting me a mocking glance, it is in an instant that my heart is torn into parts. Shredded into fragments too small for me to even begin to piece together again.

Still, I love you. I love all that you are, the power that you have over me. Let me press kisses to the soles of your feet. Let me be the ground you walk on for each pebble pressed under your weight has been graced by God’s shadow.

[hannah-write]

Twilight

Twilight settles in gentle powder across the earth,

consuming the blues with their honeyed warmth and whispered gold.

The colours swarm in an instant,

devouring the earth with fervor and greed.

The passage of time demands to be acknowledged,

painting the sky in such an abundance of heaven’s hues.

Regal shades pour from the heavens,

intertwining with one another as if they were always meant to be.

Fleeting eyes are helpless but to be pulled in,

drowning in kisses from God herself.

The affections are smothering,

giving to each lover more devotion than they have ever known.

It is in twilight that she is love,

the sky crumbles under the weight of her tender sentiment.

She is love in the way that he is hate,

Unforgiving, persistent and all consuming

[hannah-write]

Icarus

It is in these sweet moments that I find myself longing for you the most. When the only sounds fluttering into the space is the fine chirping of delicate birds who occupy wintered trees. Their cheery birdsong reminds me of how it is to love you. The feeling of honey skin smooth beneath my fingertips, the knitted sweaters drowning your small frame rub against the skin of my cheeks. I keep my eyes closed, scrunched up tight with furrowed eyebrows. I know if I let myself look at you it alone would be enough to make me cry, the beauty of you in seasonal comforts will never cease to catch me off guard. I never thought it possible for one human to be so heavenly. My sweet cherub, you’re sweeter than the ripe summer berries that pigment your lips. You are just as addicting at the nicotine that flavours them.

To love you is to worship the very flames of a forest fire. I am out of my depth, left to watch as you roar, consuming all of me in blistering heat I cannot turn my eyes away from. I bide my time contemplating which way would be the best to show my affections, holed up in my office writing pieces of prose never to be finished. You, my love, are my greatest muse and biggest distraction. In your presence I can never get any of my work completed, I instead spend my time pressing gentle kisses to your forehead, hoping they can convey the things I cannot seem to get out. The love I have for you is greater than how the sun loves the moon. If you would only ask I would hang the stars in the sky each night, I know how much you love to admire them. Just as you know that I love to watch their light refract in the beauty of your eyes.

These past few days in your absence have felt like an eternity. More often than not I find my hands shifting through the open air, longing to be carding through long sheets of chocolate hair. When I catch them I can only stare in muted anguish. Our home does not feel like just that, a home, without you in it. The walls echo with your memory, insatiable laughter ringing through my ears when the shadows swallow the rooms whole. I wander these halls like a ghost, left without no purpose and trapped in the confines of the life we built.

You, the most magnificent being to have graced this earth, and I, the person who is destined to follow loyally behind you as if I were a puppy. There is no doubt the fond look I dote on you resembles that of a dog pleading desperately for a lick of your affections. When my eyes fall to a close I see you, feet gliding elegantly across the hardwood floor, ignorant to the chill of the floorboards on your sockless feet. You don’t dance well but your lack of rhythm is endearing, the sight flooding my body with content warmth, flowing through my veins. I wish to play this vision on repeat in theatres and on movie screens. Pictures of you in the early mornings sprawled across satin bed sheets in blissful unconsciousness are art pieces worthy of the Louvre placed alongside the Venus de Milo. You are harsh angles pillowed by soft curves, so beautiful that the best sculpterers could only hope to craft something half as magnificent as you. What is Michaelangelo’s David when he is not living, breathing, pulse pumping rich beneath my fingertips?

If you are the sun, then dear God let me be Icarus.

[hannah-write]

Stay

I don’t have to be up early in the morning so why don’t you stay. Stay in my arms. Let me hold you with the devotion of a thousand lovers. Let me kiss you breathless and swallow your every thought. I want to wrap you up in kisses laced with promises of forever. The ache that calls to watch you blush under my praise feeds my shameful adoration. With each passing moment the urge to reach out and touch, to feel, grows larger than myself. I am devoured by my need to be close to you. To press myself to your side and never part. In my weakness I confess every sin, every shame, of mine, every thought of you basked in artificial light, putty in my hands as tender devotions slip past praising lips.

[hannah-write]

Domesticity

I dreamt of waking up to your fingers running through my hair this morning. Pale fingers moving ever so gently as to not to tug on the roots. When I woke you smiled so nicely at me, telling me why you were here. I rolled onto my side, pulling you to lay down beside me with your arm wrapped around my shoulders. Even though it wasn’t real I still feel the comfort even now. You pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck and whispered that you wanted to kiss me. I wanted to kiss you too but in a desperation to make it good for you I got out of bed to brush my teeth. I pressed a kiss to your forehead and upon my return you smiled at me nervously. You allowed me to sit on the side of the bed, leaning down to press my lips to yours. Each dream ends much the same, me staring at you with this unreserved fondness that I so desperately quash in our every day life.

[hannah-write]

Wind

The way the wind rattles my windows floods my body with warmth, a sweet euphoric calm sweeping over me in its gentle tide. In my youth these sounds frightened me, left me terrified of the things I couldn’t see and only hear. I recall crying, sobbing into the night as noises I could not stop forced themselves upon me. A low rumble reverberates off of the panes with each harsh blow. Trees undoubtedly billow under the force somewhere in the darkness but they are rooted too far for me to see.

In a room bathed in the night’s murky glow I close my eyes tightly. Every gust like sweet symphonies whispering words of tenderness in my ears. They promise me all the things I have ever desired, each thing beyond comprehension is sworn to me by the gods in their whispered devotion. I accept these promises with a stuttering heart, allured by their honeyed tone.

The pregnant pauses in their murmurs has me craving their return, silently begging them to breeze past my house once more. I keep my breaths shallow to ensure I do not miss them. Chest rising and falling in quick succession as my heart thumps in my throat.

[hannah-write]

Things that fall;

Petals,

Hued in delicious blushing pink,

Silken and delicate between my fingertips.

I tug them from where they are rooted,

Rhyming as they fall softly to the floor,

She loves me, she loves me not.

Leaves,

Colliding with the ground so silently,

Divorcing from their parents as the days draw shorter.

There is no tearful farewell as they part,

Instead, a celebration as you dance through,

Melodious laughter ringing out over the sound of their crunching.

Snowflakes,

Biting air nipping at the tip of my nose,

But the winter winds leave me unperturbed.

I, instead, entranced as pearlescent flakes fall,

They kiss the gentle waves of your hair,

I long to be the one who removes them.

Rain,

The wind whipping harshly as the sky weeps,

Heavens opening to release glorious downpours.

Much as the snow, the rain catches in your hair,

Seeping into each sheet of hair as the moments passed,

I still yearn to tangle my fingers between the dampened strands.

Teardrops,

Falling bitterly from saddened eyes,

Their tracks glisten under the rays of the sun.

It aches my heart how irrefutably beautiful you are,

Even as tears stain your face and teeth worry your lip,

I hate that you cry, I wish to kiss away your tears.

The sun,

It sets over the horizon each day,

Kissing us farewell in her fading rays of warmth.

I stare at you with a heart that longs for yours,

I gaze for the same reason that the sun sets each night,

It would be unprecedented for me to not.

And I, for you.

Each of these things falls for little explanation,

Only for they are designed to.

I believe I am the same, made only to love you.

It is with sweet adoration that I confess to you,

Fallen deeper than I could ever profess.

[hannah-write]

The Fine Line

The steady rhythm of your heartbeat against my ear was once cathartic. Something that grounded me when the weight of the world came down eager to push me six feet into the earth. I recall when twinned with the sweet, escaping breaths from cracked, kiss bitten lips I would fall into a state of unconsciousness, lulled asleep by the enveloping blanket of sounds so unique to you. I miss the way I once craved your very presence, longing so desperately to have pale fingertips press softly into the swell of flesh sitting atop my hips as you held me close to your chest, those very same cracked lips pressed to my forehead in soft appreciation.

That heartbeat now race under my eardrum, staggering in a violent tempo. The force of each beat pulsates heavily against the underside of my temple. There is no longer soft breathing into the night and instead in its place is panting breaths that shake with every exhale. It is accompanied by tight arms forcefully holding me in place against your chest to hear these beats deafeningly. Cracked lips now bloody and bruised brush against my forehead, leaving a sticky, wet trail of red streaking across the pale skin.

[hannah-write]

Unhappy New Year

Another holiday spent alone, a bottle of red wine curled lightly between tired fingertips. As flashes of light and joyous laughter flitters in between the cracks in my windows seam I am bathed in the silence of my own home. Their laughter taunts me, teasing me with what I cannot have in a house barely a home. No warmth resides between these walls, my toes nipped at by the incessant chill that hangs in the air. Half dried tear tracks paint my face, pale and drained from bitter neglect. I find myself fixating on this same spot of chipping paint on my walls, transfixed by its dilapidated nature. In an odd sense it’s reflective of how I feel. Amongst things so uniform when all I can do is be an outlier, horridly visible to be chastised.

[hannah-write]

Bittersweet Devotion

Maybe his biggest mistake wasn’t falling in love with someone who could never love him back, perhaps it was the fact that he could never fall out of it. He had always admired her with tender eyes and touches sweeter than honey on the tip of her tongue. She, in turn, spoke in a language of soft smiles and kind laughter, kindling the small flames of devotion until they became a roaring fire of love. He stood by her side, besotted and loyal, taking care of her best he could when she never would herself. She relied on him for a distraction, he relied on her to light his world up. He was as reckless as a moth to a flame with his wholehearted dedication to her. Not a moment passed where he didn’t think to her and those eyes as vast as oceans and as cloudy as a winters sky. Pining in secret offered a host of unanswered questions but that feeling of hurt paled in comparison to the bitter knowledge of devotion unshared. The sad look in her eyes as she dismissed him will haunt him in every waking moment. Yet he still pines, unable to detach himself from this bonfire of love burning ferociously in his chest.

[hannah-write]

Shadows

I long to dance with the shadows the way they do in the early morning darkness. Their movements carefree and undefined by the burdens that always come to me in the dark. The shadows hold no memories, no trace of regret nor hurt linger in their silhouetted shapes. They flitter when the light changes, they’re never permanent, they come and go as they please. A reminder that whilst things aren’t permanent they can come back around. I’m not sure if this knowledge brings me serenity or discomfort. As the memories that seem to fade always manage to find their way back around, lingering in the shadows I believed to be so carefree.

[hannah-write]

Candle

I see you in the way the light of my candle reflects off of an empty coke can. Harsh, bitter light that my eyes are foolishly drawn to. The way the light paints the walls reminds me of those golden rays you used to bask in. How each curve of your sun-kissed body would glow, warmth dancing so beautifully across exposed skin my fingers longed to do their own tango along. My heart beats steady, the beat of the song that the warmth does dance; one, two, three. It is as if each and every thing I think and do is led by your very existence, each thought I have comes back to how beautiful you smile in the moonlight after three glasses of wine. I miss those moments, where I got to see you in private and just for me. When those words you whispered melt me like wax, burning me with the warmth of your love.

[hannah-write]

Pillowcase

Do you ever stare intensely at the fibres of your pillowcase? Taking note of each thread pulled to a fray, sitting there as some sort of twisted metaphor for the way your life is so seemingly functional and yet being pulled apart at the seams. I roll over to stare as if begging for it to start a conversation with me, to distract me from the confines of my own mind. Drowning on the words that threaten to spill out from under the surface. They fill my airways, choking me on my own pleas for help. The silence is normal, the lack of pings of notifications or mechanical hum of a console that used to fill my life now replaced with a quiet so deafening I can’t hear myself breathe. Limbs heavy in a familiar sort of way with my chest tight like someone has taken a grasp upon my heart, squeezing it harshly until seeds of pain begin to sew themselves beneath the surface. These sheets offer me a sanctuary, cotton peace embracing me in its pseudo comfort. I feel as if I’ve tucked myself away on the shelf, away from everyone else’s concern. The furthest thought of worry. I’ll stare into these sheets, for these sheets will always hold me.