Trains, cars, planes...
...all have taken me so far away from everything I dreamt to be true. I feel like there's a wound inside me which molds every decision, every desire, every truth. This mark, this element which embodies my meek existence, is based on a paradise lived and then destroyed. A fallen angel wandering among streets filled with strangers, watching closely, searching wisely for the heaven she once held in her arms.
First times are always felt deeper, first loves are always hoped to be the last, and once the memories become blurry and the flesh is felt through other hands and mouths, its like threes a thin layer between me and all that warmth; like my blood has been drained and nothing rushes to my head like it used to.
Its not like I'm not over him, its not like I need it. I just know I wont be able to find it again, and it hurts everyday when I think about how my laugh, my moans, my tears will never be as pure or as gentle since I've become a hard wall hindering everything that breathes me in too deep.
Love comes in different measures, and the day when I don't need to weight it and think about how much my love doesn't compare to what it used to, that will be the day I will allow someone to love me again.
Until then, the unfair woman, I am, the needy hand that uses others in such an innocent way, I am, the footprints I leave behind, they will continue to be swept away by the ocean, they will be meaningless in the sands of my complexity. The skin I taste and the breath I feel will be savored in a human way, appreciated but forgotten, and the nights where Id sleep in spoons under a warm blanket of pure joy, of unselfish love and devotion, are continuously just memories my miserable soul compares everything to.
...and each and every step... trains, cars, planes.... keeps adding to the frequent lonesome miles that keeps me a rider traveling through soundless streets, looking over her shoulder at unfinished business lingering in an unforgiving past.
