Bruise.

No matter how hard I keep landing, I guess I owe it to myself to fall. Because the heart wants what the heart wants, and apparently, mine wants a nasty bruise.

It’s an organ with the consistency of layer upon layer of wet Kleenex. Every attempt at repair just opens new holes that tear and bleed. You try to close the wound with fresh wounds, and you try and you try and you don’t give up until there’s nothing left.

It’s funny. When you leave your home and wander really far, you always think, ‘I want to go home.’ But then you come home, and of course it’s not the same. You can’t live with it, you can’t live away from it. And it seems like from then on there’s always this yearning for some place that doesn't exist. I’m never completely at home anywhere. But it’s a good place to be, I think. It’s like floating. From up above, you can see everything at once. It’s the only way how.
ashlynnx ashlynnx
26-30, F
3 Responses Jul 29, 2010

He has a gf. I came to late.

:} thank you and your welcome.

:} thank you and your welcome.