Abandoned love songs and fossil foreshadowing

What other languages do you speak?

Premature fossil letters spill from my lips into the troughs of liquid phrases coasting on the rogue wave paragraphs that can become said and reality in an instant.

Irate sea foam drowns in stone packed beige powder as storm forerunners cease existence upon being the first to shatter into blocks of broken cerulean dominoes.

Gel cap cloudy wave tips are the ocean's foreplay to the incoming destruction of swirling winds with carnal desires to shred and shatter human life.

Incendiary currents tug and yank the black oblivion depths of drowning closer to gnarly toothed shores filled with scratchy whisker driftwood and chocolate dipped toddlers.
 
Fluid rip tides become unfocused currents of evaporated emotion as fierce minutes fighting the clock for later, magnolia incense freckled words of reason seep into my consciousness.

Tumbling events that denote the derivative moments of my life- and everywhere I'm heading in my burning inferno.
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Satin liquid inflections twist into unflattering costumes, of pretending to fulfill Sephora prophesies and satin promises laced with falling off the edge, as I try to scam
silver glitter lashes and paltry flaking vermilion eyes  that I'm one of them .

My words become a tasteless semi solid following anxious conjugations of buying the right brands and inlaid designed sneakers.

While my face turns dun hues of suffocation as Celsius oxygen leaves my lungs- everyone who ever believed I remembered the patterns of being me, is already blind sided as they piece together the puzzle pieces of the step by step process it took to create this reality, in which they don't know me.


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I don't know how to bolster fathomless hopes and give them reason to believe that inside of me, I'm not lying and becoming some girl whom I don't know, a hypocrite mixing grey-scale letters with neon symbols, in a way they should never be melted together.

Somehow as my fastidious attempts to hold my eyelid creases and cheekbones empty spaces from down sizing into slivers, and my brown sugar eyes from fading  from muddy storm drain water to discolored ferret shades- it all fell apart. I lost track of what color my pencil sharpener veins used to be, and how masking tape and elmer's glue was somehow all I needed to stitch my knees back together.

The patterns of speech that once led me effortlessly into midnight translations of reading in between the lines of cabbage patch friendships and torn page explanations have let me desolate and bleeding salt water tears and alcohol tear ducts.

The bargains of root endings of six year understandings for learning how to fly beyond ionosphere gossamer winds were almost worth it- until I learned beyond the loss of soul-mates, and my other halves, as I woke up the sinews of freedom would be ripped from my torrid shoulder bones.

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About now I wish I had longer arms- or stronger eyes, to pull those stars down to my level- about now I wish we made sense- and that yesterday's status wasn't true. Truth: I don't know what's real anymore- and I wish you were here to explain things to me, because you seem grounded, even if I'm not. Truth: I wish we had a chance- but I know we don't, and that I don't deserve you..


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Even as your smile trickles gently down my spine- I had the audacity to wish on
freckle inflamed stars for you and I to have some illogical reason for your irises to peel away my torpid scabs and feed me open ended words that mean running barefoot and waking up tomorrow. 

Inside I feel myself breaking the way my dilapidated hopes built on ramshackle chains and cuff-links of amethyst are echos of all the people previously in my life who once did understood me.  Because the shadows portended their eyes too, and how they would fade from the lattice framework of my life.

My ears are hungry for the awkward to banter transformation thermal energy makes when it gains heat and the chemicals fall into place- I want the feeling of so right, yet so wrong because maybe then we might last.  If the only people whom I fall in love or lust with- are surrendering common ground to me about shared crystalline moments ingrained in both our souls, because both of us are stained with the same cold suppositions and earth colored shadows beneath our eyes. I won't ever heal, instead my words will fall into the same rote memorizations full of inaccurate zest and broken lyrics.

You eyebrows don't scream gorges of unfiltered pain, which leads me to trusting you. Somehow I believe you don't understand, and when your look at me you don't see a broken girl, which leads me to believing in foreshadowing and pre images of the miracles you could work.


I hope you could comprehend me- and your eyes won't mirror my crimson etching dust but will fill it with amber and ultramarine glitter, so I never have to feel burnt out.


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I used to believe in so many things, fairy godmothers, best friends, and nonsensical love- but now I've learned fairy godmothers are only the finger prints best friends grow into. My best friend could have saved me once- but I'm so beyond past this after all the phone calls she ignored and the way our bond has changed.

Once I thought I could save someone else and save myself at the same time by falling in love with someone else whose theme song matched my own in inflection and off key voice- and that by being th e same we could heal each other. But I was wrong.

Now I want a smile that isn't crooked, eyes that aren't Kaleidoscope eyes but of holding hands beneath carousel piers, and someone who isn't familiar to pain. In the hopes that they could learn to fall in love with me, and that could be enough for them to want to be there- night after night, so I don't have to cry myself asleep alone.