aydan

Somehow our stars managed to align at the same time, I felt my bones might burst in that moment. An overwhelming ache permeated every lonesome moment and I did myself no favors by force-feeding it the lovelorn lyrics of myriad songs. Self-constructed tragedies played out in my head, bringing the end before we’d even had a beginning.

Tentatively, we let our constellations entwine. It should have been a mess; two celestial dot-to-dots occupying the same space, but somehow we seemed to grow into more than the sum of our parts. Yet I feared the burn-out overfeeding an infant fire can bring. 

All the things I dared not say, subtly inscribed with temporary-finger-trace tattoos on your silent skin. To keep them in was like cannibalism. Hoping that the vague reply of your fingertips, in a casual caress, somehow expressed a similar longing, beyond the collision of collapsed syllables caught in the teeth of open-closed mouthings. 

Words ensnared by unrelenting apprehension were expressed through the asymmetry of criss-crossing blood vessels beneath a translucent veil. They outshone the actions they entailed and that goosebump braille was your tongue.

If you were here, you would often catch me staring, eyelashes snapping open like a reverse bear trap. In essence they were holding me hostage, until I’d wake sometime later to find myself smiling in almost comatose grandeur. Fairy light suited you best. A pink coursing so softly across your eggshell shoulders it seemed to be emanating from within. I was captivated. And you only glowed in my bed.

I've created my own scent of you, and now it refuses to leave, remaining and radiating from saturated sheets; the very outer essence of your presence. Clothes lay abandoned like empty shells for me to crawl into and call home. An exoskeleton embracing my most fanciful dreams. Maybe the next time you slipped and slithered into them, my unvoiced melodrama would seep and collect.