A multitude of casualties.

Picture this: It’s midnight and there’s an almost empty beach, there’s a lit cigarette between your fingers which you won’t smoke because it makes you cough but you’ll hold it anyways because it gives you something to hold on to. You’re looking at the silent sea and wondering how to stop looking at distant things and how to stop shaking at the memories. You’re wondering how to forget how he looks in certain lights or the shape of his mouth when he says “love”. It’s past midnight and you break your heart a little being careless and reckless and hoping in all this chaos you feel more than just empty.
Picture this: It’s 4 A.M and your blurry eyes are not forgiving enough to find your mother’s number from your phone. You wait for her to pick up wearing your heart like a bruise, a pain everybody sees but nobody cares about. “Mama” you’ll say, your voice cracking as your heart decides to come undone. You sob with one hand over your mouth and the other holding the phone away. “I forgot to tell you to pick up my mail tomorrow” You forget to tell her to pick up the shattered pieces of trust from the floor of your insanity. You forget to tell her you are trying . You forget her heart contracts with every beat of yours and the last time you called she could hear the tremble in your voice and she sat in her room and cried until she was dry because the imprint of her  kisses on your baby fingers are still shadows on your skin ,you can’t see them yet but she can and those touches are still the only reason that you still find light in the darkest of hours. You might try to push her away but she damn near killed herself trying to push you into the world that you’re so tenaciously trying to belong to and not once did she regret it.
Picture this: You’re on the bus and a stranger is sitting next to you and his hands are touching the side of your thighs and you realize your tongue became glass and you cannot speak without breaking it and when you do ,you silently cry knowing nobody is listening, knowing there is not enough courage left in you to fight. You feel the entire ocean pressing up against your chest .You close your eyes and imagine you’re in your father’s car, his favourite song is playing and he’s humming to it , you’re smiling.
Picture this: Your knees are weak and and you don’t know how to love with your hands. He’s holding you but but not in the way you’ve ever known it. Hold like you’re drowning, hold like you’re buried, hold until your arms are trembling from the strength of it.You’re both talking a language that neither of you can understand. But it sounds like ‘please’ or it sounds like ‘I’ve missed you’ But this is more than your fingers or your mouth. This is the five seconds that it takes him to peel your self-conscious away from your body. This is five minutes of holding your face and saying ” I love you”. This is really meaning it. This is thanking God for your hands and their ability to feel. You think maybe the dip of his sternum is forgiveness and you’re wondering if the boy you’re kissing tastes salt in your mouth because your heart is crying over the sadness it cannot endure and the life it cannot understand.
Picture this: Not a single siren rings in this war.


5 thoughts on “A multitude of casualties.

  1. Brilliant is a small word to describe this. I read your blog almost everyday and fire is probably my most favourite read in the entire world. Your writing is beyond words as beautiful as you ❤ thanks for every single post


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