January 13, 2002
Living Death
He's stationed in South Carolina.
dear god
seeing as you've cut out my heart
i think you should eat it
seeing as you haven't got one
this could be a worthy investment
i'm sure it tastes of salt
all my swallowed tears
flooding the chambers where my blood used to be
that fragile fluid
spilling all over the floor
dark, murky flowers
i am a garden of death
i am living death
seeing as you've cut out my heart
i think you should eat it
I told you he wouldn't listen.
It is later. It is now 10:32 in the evening.
I am thinking I should feel better. It could have been worse. But I'm so afraid. It's eating me up inside. I see on the desk in front of me the stack of his letters, a red ribbon tied around them. I see his picture, framed, his half smile. I see pictures of us at prom taped to my wall, I see the safety in his arms. I see my bed and think about the times he carried me to it, left me to sleep. I see my candles that I burn for him at night when I am lonely. I see my guitar and hear again in my head the songs I have written for him, the songs he has never heard. I wonder will I ever be given the chance to play them for him. I wonder will there come a night when those candles will know no match. I wonder if I will ever share a bed with him. I wonder if I will ever again know the safety of his arms. I wonder will there be more smiles, more letters.
I feel like all that I love I cannot have. I feel as though the rug that was beneath my feet has been pulled out from under me, and instead of the hard wood floor I anticipated, there is no floor at all. My life is bottomless.
Ryan says that no matter what things will be for the best. That if we are meant for eachother this will not change anything.
I fear that it will not change for me, but will for him.
astera at 7:13 p.m.