She used to be mine

I think I watched her a little too intently. I noticed how she lifted all her hair in a high ponytail and I was lost in a thousand moments, when I saw it swish from side to side as she walked down the path. I watched as she scooped a spoon full of rice and hold it mid-air, while her head swung back as she let out the loudest laugh in the room. I was hooked. I watched her eyes – packed with a 100 stories to tell, I watched as they fell upon mine. And in that instant, I forgot what breathing was.

You see there’s something very daringly risky about watching someone so deeply and so passionately. Sometime, someone else is going to notice you. They’re going to notice how your jaw hardens when she passes, and they’re going to notice how your eyes flutter and they’re going to notice that charming smile dances on your lips the second she walks in to the same room. They’re going to notice how you barely blink when she’s talking to you. Afraid that you’ll miss even the smallest second of her. And when that day comes, when someone notices, you’ll be in trouble. Because God forbid that person starts to notice those little things too. God forbid, that person starts to fall in love with those things. Then you’ll be done for. You will no longer have your little bright star. You will no longer have her. Even if it was only from a distance.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

Advertisements

Runaway Train

There are days when the sound of you breathing is the loudest thing in my head.

There are days when the slow beating of my heart is the only thing I allow myself to feel.

And the days in between, are the ones I always seem to run away from,

to avoid, as best as I can.

Those days, I’m a freight train with no brakes.

Those days, I’m a 10 ton wrecking ball, with the promise of destruction.

Those days, the sound of thunder drums louder than any other voice in the room.

And those days, the world stops spinning.

But the good days, the days where Jupiter and Saturn don’t collide,

The days where rain drenches every bruised scar,

Those days are my salvation.

Those days, I’m a Greek Goddess.

Those days, I’m my own hero.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

A cynic.

You remind me of heartbreak
You remind of sadness and sad things
You remind me of hot humid nights that make you suffocate in your sleep
You remind me of bugs that crawl all over something that just died
You didnt inspire me
You had everything,
my dark days and my silver linings,
but not my soul.
You never inspired me to write,
Instead you condescendingly brushed it away like it was meaningless
like so many other things of mine.
and I let you. I let you take everything I had left
And I loved you for it.

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow