
Rated for brief language and violence.
Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 404 - Published: 09-19-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3059547
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I wish your madness would match my own.
Then you would finally understand
all the twists and swirls and jagged broken dreams
that line my whispers and fill my words.
Because you would know just how brightly my fire burns
and how fiercely it devours and destroys everything
it touches, how the night is your best friend as you crisp in flames.
You wouldn't and couldn't soothe me with words
and promises, soft hands and calming auras
because would you feel like smashing my head through a wall.
Anger is useful, yes, but it is dangerous in a way that I
cannot control, a way that I force down so I do not hurt
something other than myself, make it damaged beyond repair.
You'd understand what it means to be made of stars and glass
and how I crumble and shatter and burn into diamond-dust
spread across the ground, fragile and beautiful and oh-so-strong.
We would be partners, lovers, friends, soul-mates
hiding underneath the night sky in whispers and dreams
returning home when the sun burns the sky pink and orange and green.
You would know the taste of ashes and desperation as you fight
to hold onto to that one piece that makes it all make sense,
the piece that you glue everything else to when you break and fall.
There would be no confusion, no words needed, because you would know
when I would need gentle loving and when I would need to fuck,
wild and desperate and needy-fast, animalistic and feral-hard.
You would know why I whisper into the dark, why my secrets
are never written down on paper and ink, only murmured in that time
of half-dreaming, the time that belongs to us and us alone.
My urge to wander would never be questioned or denied,
you would know a place for me to go and pack a thermos of tea
so my hands and fingers and soul will not freeze without you there.
A fire would always be roaring in our fireplace, and we would never
fall asleep in bed, but on the couch or the rug in front of the flames,
curled around each other like cats, heads and hearts and breaths as one.
I wish your madness would match my own
because then you would never break my heart
and I would never cry over you again.
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