Almost narrative

I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.

And I will not be afraid
of your scars.

I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.

― Clementine von Radics
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St. Petersburg, 4:15 pm

  “For, after all, you do grow up, you do outgrow your ideals, which turn to dust and ashes, which are shattered into fragments; and if you have no other life, you just have to build one up out of these fragments. And all the time your soul is craving and longing for something else.

And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were a heap of cinders, looking in these cinders for some spark, however tiny, to fan it into a flame so as to warm his chilled blood by it and revive in it all that he held so dear before, all that touched his heart, that made his blood course through his veins, that drew tears from his eyes, and that so splendidly deceived him!”

 quoted from Dostoevsky's "White Nights"
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Icarus

I tried a-beggin' on the cabin floor
But the churches have run out of candles
Turn one day in the cathedral
I finally lit you a candle
And all along the vaulted halls
The virgins did smile from their mantles


"I keep thinking, you know, that we'd have so much more to say to each other. But this isn't the way to do it. Here, come closer. Why don't we count to ten, love, while the sky is falling."

The brightness outside grew and spread. And screamed.

"I just thought we'd save each other."

"We did, darling, we did."

It's always just that little bit more
That doesn't get you what you're looking for
But gets you where you need to go
But the churches have run out of candles.
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