meamiyes

I feel like everything is going to shit, I feel alone and entirely unloved by anyone.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

IT IS EARLY

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

I lie awake, hoping that you're still there, dreaming and asleep, for me to come home to tomorrow and the next day, and the next, and the next. With your eyes spinning softly in your head, lids pulled tight against the cold, piled under blankets against the night...to be continued, dear.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

I love you babe, sleeping soundly to my left as the cold air raises my exposed skin in bumps.
My love for you is endless, unstoppable, never-ending - however cheesy and cliche it sounds, I would do anything for you, and I will love you until the day my heart stops beating, again. I want to spend my life with you, no matter what happens - you are the one for me and I will never find another who has captured my heart and my head as well and as fully as you.

Please believe me when I tell you this and please accept me for what I am in saying that I am the one for you (I know this as bright as day) just as much as you are utterly and irrefutably the only one, the perfect one, the One for me.

I love you, my sweet - with your golden hair and fair complexion; your brief scattering of freckles; your shapely body, your burning thighs, with your curves of sensual wholeness (there is no going back or elsewhere once one has tasted of these things); your eyes, effervescent and endlessly deep, always transforming with a watercolour-esque happenstance from the deepest, most beautiful blue, to the most verdant, most living green; your soft, soft, soft skin that is beyond any comparison or rival; your lashes which you complain of, of being too straight, but are in my eyes, adorable, pure objects of sweetness, gentle things - and there is no other for me, but you.

Now, I will end this short (for I can go on forever, endlessly: pouring forth words of utter truth, but from a limited selection - for there are no negatives here, besides my feelings towards the space and time that separate us) and, to my delight, sidle up beside you in bed and sleep through the night with you, arms about you until you push me away, listening to the gentle inhale and exhale of your breathing, sweet and whole, holding on to the beating of your heart for all eternity, if you'll have me.

I love you, Sonni.

William.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

heartfelt hunger
perfect love
perfect bodies
dawn's inner-ear
the way you look at me
the way I look at you
the quiet static of your sleeping frame
the quivering of your lips in dream,
our heartfelt panic at the thought of the loss of this,
our resolute, steadfastness that holds these two together
our hope that all of this will one day be our history.

the love we have and give,
the future we need and want,
the anticipation of every second,
the happiness of this one.

our love.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

Fictions in D/F Minor

Sometimes I still wish you were in my life,

Though the years between us are many.

And, sometimes I still dream about you

Or wake up in a cold sweat

And realize you’re no longer there,

And my sheets are cold, pristine and untouched

In the place you used to lay with me,

Where we’d dream together

And tell each other stories

Of times long since and of the days to come.

Those days were warmer,

The sun was brighter then.

I was happy; You weren’t.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

205bd4d5b11c5df142ffd0e798a13a84

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

Under rainbows and sundrops
we shuffle 'round and 'round
finding no way out, no way down
Until the seeking soon discovers
another One, another brother
to hold and behold
to uncover, shy away, grow closer.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

All I can write about anymore is how out of touch I am with what I'm feeling, what I'm going through and who I am.

I'll get back to this once I'm alive again.

i hate everything we ever were.

i hope you're happy with your better friends.

and sometimes I cry for all of the things we used to believe in.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

It's when the things of this crazy, technology-laden world begin to break down
that you see that everything - all of it - it's all illusion; you begin to see it for what it is - shadow-play and illusion. The sweat of breath on glass. Fairy tales.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

It's when the things of this crazy, technology-laden world begin to break down
that you see that everything - all of it - it's all illusion; you begin to see it for what it is - shadow-play and illusion. The sweat of breath on glass. Fairy tales.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

to sleeps, now.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

Your dreams called out to you,
an hour since, clock ticking,
and still I stand, the receiver clutched
tightly to my chest, milking comfort
from the sheen of the surgical white,
the glossy finish that will distort, yes,
but tell no lie.

And the tears falling softly - quiet now - in the aftermath,
the same feeling one gets after the thunderstorm
has just passed over, the occasional rumble,
heard far-off, these echoes of eternity,
that travel through time,
and catch you awake at night,
many years since,
catch you as the elevator door
begins to open and, the slim, brief
glimpse of a face, a visage
that, for a single, illuminated moment,
belongs to someone else,
to her, even.

(An Authentic Loneliness)
Vague memories, faces; portraits; worn,
rumpled photographs, tragedies taken down in time,
that survive the moment, and survive avenues,
the very sight of which are enough to bring down barriers,
long-enforced; barriers, be they visible or not, the tone
of voice we use when we say
the opposite of what we mean,
when our throats close up
with condescension - there isn't enough air
up there, on top of it all, looking down -

And then to know a loneliness beyond all others,
outside of self, of want; the loneliness transmutes
to Love, as you watch the actors down below,
playing games, perfecting roles, their dance -
we change off-stage, but leave upon our face
the mask; -

Worn, rumpled photographs lost, forgotten and left
for too long in glove boxes, at the bottom of the drawer,
rarely touched, underneath the old, old china,
the tarnished silver that always stains your thumbs,
this rarely-touched drawer where all your secrets lie.

And there I am, alone with this transceiver,
this marriage of form, aesthetic beauty
and pure function, whatever human remnant
there once was, long ago sold up the river
for jet-molded plastic with little
or no overhead,

Hoping beyond hope that somehow the lines,
once-crossed, aren't disconnected, that,
unbeknownst to either party, with
the full strength, the passion, the depth
of sincerity of my raw emotions, pale and not
fit for sun,

Vibrating down the wire, transmogrifying
into sparks: Sparks of Love; Sparks of Hate;
Jealous Sparks; Sparks, Lonely Sparks.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

I know, I hate this terrible bastardization of the english language, of acronyms that only contribute to Nietzsche's "cultural decay, but seriously, FML. 

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

They came today to kill my dog, and did. I went outside and waited, not wanting to see the dead thing that replaced him. I've lived with him since I was nine. I'm not too happy right now.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

I'm caught between a hateful pessimism and blushing optimism.
I'm quite alone, I feel.
I don't know anyone.
My body hurts.
My mind hurts.
Everything is wicked; Everything is beautiful.

i wonder where they are, the people of my past, of my memories, of my countless yesterdays.
I wonder where the summer goes - no, I know where the summer goes - but still I wonder.
I feel abandoned, I feel reunited with a type of loneliness that I used to know so well and have only caught quick glimpses of in the past few months.
I feel that the walls are closing in, that the sea level is rising, the clouds are coming together in new ways to spell out disaster.
I feel that the tide will carry us all away, or everyone but me.
and I feel that means something, though I can't put it into words and I can decipher its cryptic meaning for form, cannot distinguish its weight from the words.

I don't know if there's really a you anymore, out there across the oceans...or if there's any longer an us, if anything's happened to weaken that bond.
All I know is me right now and, I don't know him very well at that.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

i know where the summer goes

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com

i feel very, very alone right now.

Originally posted on boxofsecrets.vox.com