a finger's touch upon my lips
it's a morning yearning
pull the curtains shut, try to keep it dark
but the sun is burning
the world awakens on the run
and will soon be earning
with hopes of better days to come
like a summer rose,
i'm a victim of the fall
but am soon returning
-----------
She shivers through this sweltering summer. Her teeth chatter, her skin chills. The heat doesn't break through. The heat doesn't even leave a mark. The bright sun dances across her heavy shoulders. The sun's warm light only seems to weigh her down.
She's so cold inside. So cold.
But at night, she warms. When the sun finally leaves her, she burns. She radiates through such peaceful nights. When the world stops. When the rooms become so dark. When the streets fall so silent. When the figures are unmoving. When eyes close. When breathing evens.
She comes to life.
These are the moments her world lights up. Her rooms shine. Her eyes see. Her lips breathe.
When no one moves, she does. When no one remembers feeling. She feels. She feels so much.
And she remembers. Oh does she remember.
So completely.
Everything.
So perfectly
But you'll never know that. You'll never know about her empty days. You'll never know her full nights.
Because you are what she dreams. Every night. You are what she feels. Everywhere. You come to her in the dark, and you light it up. You whisper inside her bed, and fill the spaces of the cracked window inside her heart. You fill her up and she remembers.
She remembers all she can't forget.
Her truth pushes past her lies. Her truth covers what she pretends. What she hides.
She awakens in her sleep. She lives in her dreams.
And she'll never admit it. She still doesn't realize it.
She says she wishes she could escape these nights. She tells herself those quiet hours are torture. She thinks she knows she'd be ok without them. She almost believes she would.
But what she knows, what she really knows, is that those hours are her savior. What she believes, what she truly believes, is that the hardest part is waking up. What she feels, undeniably every morning, is emptiness.
What she understands, more than anything, is that torture, heartbreaking torture, is waking up without you.
And you'll never know.
You'll never know those seconds, when her eyes open. You'll never feel the eternity between the moments that it takes her to realize. The excruciating moment when her arms feel nothing but themselves. When the space next to her becomes overwhelmingly empty.
You'll never see her tiny bed becoming an ocean.
And you'll miss her drowning in it.
But what you will know. What you will see, is her frantic arms pulling her out of it. Every morning, she pulls herself from it all. Every day she walks tall, holding her head high with all her might.
And this, she wants you to know. This, you will know. This, will hurt you.
You will see her again. You'll believe she doesn't need you anymore. You'll believe everything you already think is true. You'll believe she's moved on. Moved on so far ahead of you that you'll believe you can't see her anymore.
Because she believes a part of her has. She believes that maybe her lies are truth. Her acts aren't false. And when she believes, she's so good at believing. When she pretends, she's so good at pretending.
Even when it is a lie.
You'll believe this lie. Just like her. You'll never for a minute think that she still has your notes inside a box. That your pictures still fit inside the frames. That your texts are still saved.
But what you don't know is she still carries them inside her back pocket. And she still reads them. She still checks your "I love you"s and "I miss you"s.
Every day.
She looks at her blank inbox. She stares at her silent phone. Begging you to call. Begging for a reason to break.
Needing to fall.
She wants to give into you.
But you never give her a chance.
You stopped giving those away months ago. You stopped calling. You stopped texting. You gave her everything you thought she wanted. You gave her everything she thought she wanted.
And now life is so silent. Summer is so quiet. All she hears is herself begging louder. All she feels is herself needing you more.
It kills her. It hugs her tighter than the humidity that surrounds her.
So she tries so hard to ignore her deafening pleas. She weakly excuses those blinding feelings.
Because she wants to believe she doesn't need you. She needs to not want you.
And what you think and what she doesn't know is that someday she won't have to believe it.
One of these days her pretended beliefs will ring true.
One day she'll dream without you.
And one day she'll wake up happy.
But for now, inside these lazy days that crawl by like a fat slug, you're still there. You're everywhere.
For now she dreams. She dreams her peace. She dreams your love. She dreams herself.
She dreams the same thing every time. She lives the same memory every night.
And it soothes her.
Because what she remembers, what she relives, is that first night from so long ago. She remembers another set of quiet hours. Hours that saved her. Hours that opened her eyes. Hours that breathed so freshly through her lips.
Every night, Spencer remembers your first time.
And every night, she comes to life.
She feels your body. Your body so real on top of hers. So heavy, but not suppressing. So heavy that it beautifully reminds her she's still alive.
She remembers those dimples on your back. She remembers the perfect curl of your lips. And she remembers your soft kisses.
She remembers them drawing up her back that morning. So early. So fresh. She feels you behind her, your arms holding her. So safe. So close.
And she whispers her fading words inside a soft pillow.
"What are you doing?"
Your breasts press further into her back, just like the first time. Your breaths swallow her sweaty skin, all over again. She feels your smirk against her spine so strongly. And she hears your loving whisper so crisply,
"I'm tracing your life line."
She bares her teeth behind out of practice lips and turns inside her empty bed. She rolls towards a memory, wrapping her arms around a perfect vision.
"Is that what they're calling it these days?"
Her closed eyes widen with a tinny laugh. Her sleepy lips form a sloppy smile around its echo.
And just like that breaking morning, she sees you becoming serious. She feels you looking straight into her eyes. You pull her closer, and from the fresh touch, she shivers beneath her suffocating covers. She freezes inside summer's heat.
"I meant it Spence..." She sees your tongue darting across worn in, dry lips "...I wanna make sure you're gonna be around a while."
She feels your desperate words clench around her heart. She feels your exposed vulnerability more than the naked skin pressed against hers.
And she pushes further into swollen air.
She threads her legs with blank sheets.
She hugs an empty life beside her.
And she whispers with everything inside her.
"I'm not going anywhere..." her croaky voice slides through blond hair that feels so much like yours, "...I mean it, Ashley, I so mean it."
Her whole body tingles as your lips wash over hers. Her lungs fill with so much warm air. Her eyes feel so heavy.
She feels her life beginning again. Just like that night. She feels love blooming inside her. Just like that moment.
She's not pretending.
She's not lying.
She's not almost believing.
She's remembering.
She's living.
And in an instant, she stops. In an instant, the sun shines. The sun shines and it all disappears.
Every morning, the sun shines inside her and in an instant, she ices over. Wrapped inside the hottest bed, Spencer almost drowns inside the coldest water.
But every morning, Spencer pulls herself out of it.
Every morning, Spencer walks through each day, pretending her truths. Acting her beliefs. Forgetting to remember.
Every morning Spencer's so close. So close to breaking. So close to living. So close to walking past you.
And so close to never looking back.
Because every breathing morning;
Spencer wakes up.
