Sometimes you know better, sometimes you confront the part of you that knows better, sometimes you refuse to listen anyway.

if my lungs fill with water instead of air i think / i’ll pause to have some to drink.

maybe i should just go for it.

okay, listen.
there’s something different about them.
and i know that’s cliche and naive of me
you can lecture me about it until the
currents have changed their ways
and the tides have stopped pulling
at my gut, telling me that you’ve gotta
run, run, run, you know these white flags
and they’re stained with blood,
but– but.
i want to say i feel stranded with no way out,
but there’s been boats passing and
they scrape the sand before taking right on off.
so help me?

                         okay fine then. listen.
                         you know, god you’ve really done it now– you know,
                         you’ve only ever wanted someone to tear your heart out
                         and marvel at it as if that’s adoration.
                         you want the pain
                         you want the agony.
                         that’s what this is, isn’t it?
                         knowing they don’t want you,
                         knowing their thoughts are preoccupied by
                         red lips and– god, you really don’t know,
                         it makes you sick to think about and you still don’t–
                         you know, i’ll leave it here, you know
                         you want the feeling of sinking until you don’t
                         know what’s the water and what’s the land,
                         what’s salt, what’s sand?, what’s pure.

but it shouldn’t hurt too bad, i think.
stay here for a second, just listen, hear me out–
if every bone breaks at once at least
i wouldn’t have to focus on one spot.
if my lungs fill with water instead of air i think
i’ll pause to have some to drink.
right?

                         no, look–
                         you’re blinded by streaks of sunlight
                         until the seasons change and 
                         you can see, stranded in the cold snow,
                         for how long they’ve left you behind.
                         do you think you’d be talking to me
                         if you didn’t recognize the hurt in your chest,
                         the rotting pomegranate pit in your heart?
                         you know better!
                         i’m begging you to know better.
                         i’m digging my knees into the gritty sand,
                         letting the waves wash up on my dress,
                         stain it with the tears that you know are going to come.

no, im begging you to understand,
i have never felt this way before.
i know it well, i’ve never felt its grip yet
the marks it leaves is sharp, but familiar.
it’s borderline peculiar– tried, but true.
there’s a twinge in my chest that thrums and sings,
soaring to the peak of a snowcapped mountain
whenever i peer at them, stealing glances,
cause yes, you and i both know i can only steal,
and thieve and rob and uptake,
because yes, they’re not mine.

                         they’re not.

yeah, they’re not.

so, y’know,

maybe i wait it out.
i’m good at waiting, you know?
and i think they like me, just a little bit.
i think that’s better than nothing.
i think that’s better than wallowing around
in the cold waiting for good things to catch up to me.

                         okay.

                         “on a journey to fix yourself” and you
                         run yourself straight out of sight of the lighthouse.
                         i’ll be here when you’re ready for salvation
                         and not looking for a stained helping hand.

alright.
i’ll just go grab theirs.
intertwine our fingers until i bring them down with me too.

                         …

                         good, now you get it

Process

I’ve had this piece brewing in my Google Docs for a while. I’d written up a few stanzas and highlighted portions that I liked the most, and left it alone. I didn’t like what I wrote beforehand but knew I had something in the portions I selected. It wasn’t until trying to come up with something for the GWN anthology did I get more inspiration for what it could be through my mentor, Daniella. After discussing a few ideas with her, I managed to come up with this, and this I’m very happy with. Really teaches me more about drafting, editing, and feeling comfortable with starting over.