April262012
dearskye.: 2047.4 »
I have a theory that people are like water jars, bottles hanging on trees calling out for ghosts to come back and refill them. Different people are like different glasses; I know of kind people who are like jam jars, sweet and fulfilling. I also know of people who are like beer bottles. They sing and the sound is hollow. There is so much missing from their voice, something so simple that could make them full, and I wanted nothing to do with them. They sing and the sound frightens me.
I know them, inside and out, how the shape of their hand fits perfectly in a palm, and how their lips make eyes close in bliss. Stories have it that they are amazing and addicting; but bitter first - to those who only hear about how great they are, and then the taste settles and I grew addicted but scared of the same addiction. He told me they weren’t always like this, that it gets better or is different when things are right - but I guess I just wanted things to be right with him, only our time seems to have passed. Like the hype or fad of the season, I don’t think we’re into it anymore, and in this case, vintage is not making a comeback.
The first time was so meaningless and empty, but the feelings were so temporarily strong and magnified that I would do it over and over again. This isn’t love and we aren’t singing, but we both want to be filled and full. Only we were two wrong pieces looking for something else.
And now I know that you’re like a beer bottle and I am a jam jar. I wanted to make you happy, but you were only looking for a temporary fix. And now I know I’m not fixing you, and now I know we’re just hanging from the same tree. Our collision was just an accident of the wind. And now I know, but what does it do to me?
Tags: /dearskye /creative writing /serial short /2046
Reblogged from dearskye..
