December 28, 2009
By Anonymous

Kill the air between your lips, and the stutter between my own. Nervous is just a word, but I swear it feeds on my heart. Rip the termites from under my cold skin. The hammer in my chest only does myself damage, nothing more. We are holding onto our veins by the strands, clawing our way up to the top.

You swear we are flying, I swear we are failing. I can’t hold out my hand to grasp your own, because when you become ready to let go… I know I’ll hold on. I hate your smile, and my butterflies. I hate how every time I believe your lies, I remember that they are lies. And I love you.

How will we form our smiles when we’ve run out of plastic? I want to let go of everything. I want to close my eyes and run, tripping over my own feet. I want to stretch out my arms and spin around, touching nothing, and I want you to be less than a heartbeat away… ready to catch me if my legs decide to crumble. I guess that I want a miracle.

They say that no one is perfect, but I’ve sworn once before that you come pretty close. If I had an eraser, I’d erase every word that I’ve ever said about you. I’d erase your face. I’d erase my own.

We float on top of falling clouds that are like dying helium balloons. At any moment we will hit the ground and gain mouthfuls of soil. But we haven’t even hit yet, and you are already spitting out your share of dirt.

When I was little, I dreamt of being a princess. I was an unoriginal six year old who flew around the house in dress-up high heeled shoes, waiting for a prince to crown me as beautiful. I never had a prince. I never had a fairytale. I had this. A life full of lies and heavily disguised frowns. Give me a gown and glass slippers, I’d rather be Cinderella any day. Sweep me off my feet with something that isn’t fake.

But dreaming is off limits when my heart is in the hands of a dreamcatcher.

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