inbetweenimperfectmusings

[inbetweenimperfectmusings]

[inbetweenimperfectmusings]

Problem of fantasy love and delusion. I'm in love with version of you that lives in my head and I don't even know the real one.

— Traci Brimhall, Dear Eros

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My life is a constant cycle between "I need to rest before I burn out" and "I'm wasting my potential, I should work harder"

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Anne Michaels, from "Infinite Gradation," originally published in October 2017

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In another universe I am capable of saying goodbye

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We’re like people praying that we’ll bump into each other by chance as we’re rushed along in an infinitely wide river surging in one direction. The river has no end and there’s no way of traveling upstream.

Kim Bo-young, "I'm Waiting for You" from I'm Waiting for You and Other Stories (translated by Sophie Bowman)

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Who will kiss his inner thighs?

Who will run fingers through his hair when he’s asleep? 

Who is going to lie on his chest 

And look up at him like he is God? 

I insert myself in this role 

And wonder if anyone else can do it 

Just as well.

They can.

Probably better.

I cannot love everyone that much.

I may not ever love anyone that much.

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August is knocking, She’s whispering in my ear, Something about how time is up, She’s going back to sleep Until next year,

I spend my Augusts oversleeping, Not yet ready to change for the better, Sunny headaches, Pollen-ridden sneezes, Plagued much like the sneaky Virus underneath,

I rip my fingertips Trying to hang on with a grip slack, She lies down in a grassy enclave And doesn’t hold my hand back.

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The way he held my gaze

I held it back like it was a game,

But in the end it was only me who got played,

Because two hours shouldn’t burn a candle for two years,

And still I cannot crave anything other than

His breath in my ears,

His blue eyes arresting mine,

I am as hopeless as my mother always feared,

Because in no world is two hours worth 

Obsessing for two years. 

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When you notice a man is a man

And not just a person,

When your eyes track down his torso

And can feel something different between his legs,

I swallow and it is more than saliva

It tastes like hot desire,

I am a woman and not a girl 

For the first time in this world,

And the feeling will choke me 

Long before he does.

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In those moments

You don’t get to choose love, 

It is just who you are,

Like a mother’s intuition 

Or a father’s reflexes,

You do not get to think

You just get to do,

When love isn’t something you feel 

It is just something that happens

That’s when you know it’s real,

So trust when it is

Nothing less than who you are

And nothing more than who you are not.

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It's always August

August that you need to end or

August that you need to last forever

It's the part of Summer that puts you on the edge

Of wanting to end it all

Or wanting to sleep never

Again

Riding the One-Eyed Ford, ‘Booze ‘N’ Loozing Blues,’ Diane Burns

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Painfully intimate

The hell does that mean

Someone tell me what it feels like 

To be so close to someone

It physically hurts

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I don’t think I fell in love,

I don’t think I fell in anything at all,

I don’t think I even partake in it,

Spectator to everything

It happened to me,

You just

Happened to me,

The way tsunamis just

Happen to people,

The way violent car crashes just

Happen to people,

In the middle of grocery shopping

Or singing your favourite song,

Laughing about nothing at all

You happened to me,

Leaving me between ruin

And much more myself.

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And even after all the pain

I would never dare to call you a mistake,

Long after you’ve since gone

My hands continue to burn, My favourite, yes,

But no wrong turn,

I would walk down this way

Tripping, and falling, and cursing

A thousand times over,

Knowing you is a broken doorway

But loving you was never

A failure. 

[inbetweenimperfectmusings]

I think I will never really love anyone’s soul because none of them speak to mine ~inbetweenimperfectmusings