EdithFinch

i think he came to me because i was like her but not we were opposite sides of the same coin the more i think about it the more i realize we are strikingly alike like the same song, played at different volumes i am a soft whisper played in a coffee shop she fills an auditorium she is me but a little more and i am her but a little less she is me but more confident more passionate more hispanic more outspoken more existent she puts herself in the world and shouts her un-apology she does not ask meekly for love but demands it and spares no time for those who do not fill her need i am less so i am more calm more quiet more reflective - perhaps,

my grandfather loved me more than the earth loves the sun; yet i never appreciated it fully until he was a part of the earth again. it is thanks to him i know what it is to be loved wholly and without bounds but also by the same token i know what it is to lose someone who loves me ferociously. know that because i have been loved and have lost i will love frantically and if i love you, i will fight to never lose you.

i heard the other day that you put in an application for a house on capitol hill following through on a plan i had once been a part of i didn’t hear about it because i no longer have a bed saved for me there since you left me behind. and it’s okay, i guess i found new people who have promised with pinkies not to leave me when i break the way you all did or rather a better way to put it would be you all loved whatever beautiful thing i was before i shattered, whereas they love the pieces that are left, and are helping me glue them together into whatever i am now so don’t feel bad know you only made me more brokenhearted f

there is nothing in this world like water and air and silence the feel of the pier moving beneath your feet the upsurge of rain     -a soft percussion- the geese squandering some kind of song we have not the mind to understand then on the left at the edge of the glass an engine starts, like a struck match propellers whir and men mark a runway on the surface of the lake not walking on water but close enough you can’t smell the grass behind the docks yet      -spring is too far                 for that now- but I imagine I can grass        and rain                   and someone’s coat a symphony around us that lacks people, bu

i feel as though i have a million thoughts at once swirling in my head like a storm but none that i can get a grasp on and words slip out that i don’t understand the importance of but when i try to make myself understood, i am helpless my fingers move like they are threading music through the air some tapestry of minor chords a haunting melody that sings me to sleep but in waking hours i drift between being afloat and seeing a reflection of myself from under the water and i am everything and i am nothing yet if i said such aloud i would surely become something that deigns a shift in their eyes a look they give me when i say “

I can’t remember what exactly I said to you but as your head turned your face only half lit with surprise mild amusement and an ever present sense of knowing danced in your eyes and you didn’t smile fully but your lips were pulled so tightly I knew you wanted to part of me, though is glad you didn’t because you knew I was photographing you and in every photo you know is being taken you give an imposter’s smile a grin wholly made of aesthetic perfection, but not of the raw human joy that flashes through your teeth in your real smiles I’m so glad I caught you like that, that day. Captured somewhere between amused

i am drowning inside myself and i want you to see to hold me so tightly there is no room for darkness between us and whisper it’ll be okay that when i lay there sleepless and crying empty tears you will be next to me even if all you can do is hold my hand and allow me to do the same for you. but at the same time i hope you never see how deep my wounds lie because you don’t deserve that burden and how could i with all my problems ever be worthy of you? maybe it starts with loving myself darkness within and all

if you wind a lock of my hair around your finger peering up at me through stained lashes i will unravel like a pulled stitch in an old pair of Levi’s and crumble in your rough hands creases crosshatched with shadows. and should i dissolve into those darkened dreams would you wait for me there? in an infinite night smelling of lavender and skin a place where love exists as an afterthought not on our minds just there, ever present and something else something undefinable but so painfully close swirls like a mist around our heads doesn't that sound like a dream you’d never wish to wake from? no, i know- maybe it was just my dream, a

paint me a picture. be it with acrylics, words, the leaves falling from sleeping trees or the stars that rest hidden behind the clouds that fill November skies paint me a picture. of life or love or some feeling, bittersweet winding between the monkey bars and slides of children’s playgrounds or the whisper of surviving lust floating out the window of your old apartment the one that never closes completely paint me a picture. that fills the space between the hearth and sofa a room with emptiness built by interwoven traces of lives spent well and wasted paint me a picture. of you, of me of an ‘us’ together I struggle t

Psychologists have said that after fancying someone for over six months you no longer have a so-called 'crush' on them. At that point, you're in love. For better or for -more likely- worse, because saying 'crush' assumes that it's one-sided. After all, it's the one-sided loves that really crush you inside. But how does it feel? That love. That love which consumes you. Because without realizing it, you've slingshotted yourself into a supernova which will burn your heart up and eat the ashes. But you do it anyway. You're so busy staring at their eyes -and occasionally their ass- and breathing in every word they speak to you as if it is the