piningvictorian

[piningvictorian]

Henceforth an inactive blog.

[piningvictorian]

I've been getting increasingly self conscious about my tics.

I twitch and laugh and struggle to breathe as I shake, unable to move. I scare my friends with every jerk of my head into the floor. I cry and quake apart after, coughing when I can finally take in air again.

My body hates me. I hate my body.

I get strange looks when I spin in circles or chitter before the juice display. I have to pull over on the side of the road and just let my body spasm before I can keep driving. I spill drinks and break cups and cry when anything unsavory touches my skin.

Certain sounds will have me jerking to and fro. My anxiety drives it home, only making it worse.

Why am I like this? I used to be fine. I used to be able to hold a glass without fear. I used to be able to sleep against walls. I used to be able to laugh and catch my breath.

What happened to me?

[piningvictorian]

I like to play pretend sometimes.

I pretend I have confidence and I pretend that I'm happy, which is my mother's favorite version of the game. I like to pretend that I'm not lonely and that I got a full night's sleep.

I pretend that I don't get jealous as easily as I do. I pretend my grades aren't slipping.

I pretend, and pretend, and pretend until I can't tell which parts of me are make-believe anymore.

I hate playing pretend...

[piningvictorian]

I might not be as poetic as I used to be, my own fatigue and creeping anxiety getting the best of me, but this doesn't mean that I don't still get lost in your eyes.

My letters have slowed as my heart aches wordlessly, unsure of how to convey what I've been feeling.

In a rare happenstance, I have been struck speechless beyond a simple "I want you, I want you, I want you."

[piningvictorian]

You make me feel safe

[piningvictorian]

I want to press my forehead to yours and drown in those electric eyes forever

[piningvictorian]

I haven't been sleeping well as of late. The absence of arms around me, the absence of that safe warmth, leaves me trembling in the dark.

My body fidgets and my eyes burn, searching for your form in the dark until the tears blur the shadows into your shape.

[piningvictorian]

You're so handsome in that black blouse.

Like a poet by candlelight, dark and charming and all things wonderful...

[piningvictorian]

Not me crying over a picture of you with 8 million chins because you're more gorgeous than I deserve

[piningvictorian]

When I thought I was ready to leave, you made me want to live again...

[piningvictorian]

I could've sworn my bed was warmer...

[piningvictorian]

Ah, yes. A persisting memory that has proved to be a rather pleasant haunting of my daily life... I say do it again.

[piningvictorian]

Sleeping alone is torture now

[piningvictorian]

The bliss of waking up next to the person you love and watching their chest rise and fall in the waning hours of their rest...

[piningvictorian]

I never knew that I could miss seeing someone's eyes so much... But those calm, storm gray depths of yours, so brilliant in the morning light, I shall miss every time you close your eyes

[piningvictorian]

Last night, I dreamt something so wonderful that I felt intense sadness upon waking alone…

Working on my laptop, on what I wasn't sure, and in the end it wasn't important because I was thoroughly distracted by a bare arm searching for me. I was pulled back to bed, work forgotten for now as my attention was stolen by unclothed legs.

They were barely modest, an overlarge tshirt swallowing their thin frame, riding up with each step as they pulled me to warm sanctuary. I dutifully followed. 

Wrapped in their affection, smothered by blankets, I traced circles over their very naked hips, re-memerizing every divot in their skin as I kissed them leisurely in the drifting light of early afternoon. 

Sensual, most certainly, but nonetheless a taste of the wholesome domesticity I so crave.

[piningvictorian]

"Your Voice"

A Poem

Slamming doors echo in my distant memories,

Brought to the surface by your disappointment

And your voice.

There's another part of me that dies with the screaming 

And the child inside cringes away from unseen pain

And your voice.

If only you could see the damage you wrought,

If only you could feel the stab of your tongue,

If only you could give me physical evidence to which I could cling,

If only I had more than my word to defend from your temper…

But I am only left with a cacophony of sound,

A symphony played by a personal orchestra

And your voice.

The screams are a melody, a closing door the beat

My tears make the harmony when I'm alone in the dark

With your voice.