Pinky Promise

How funny it is that we make promises with the weakest finger…almost as if we know they’re doomed to break.

 

-T.L.J

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Loving him in colors

Loving you is orange, like the spark of a flame that lights up my heart when you walk into a room, like the sun setting on yet another beautiful day spent with you. Your personality is yellow, bright and vibrant, like the twinkle resting in your hazel eyes every time I look at you reminding me life won’t always be blue. Because when I am submerging myself into a murky navy darkness, you are the light to guide me through it, and when the ocean waves of sadness crash on my shores, you never let me feel lonely. And together on a quiet Friday night we will be grey, content, like the resting fog and swirling clouds above us, a quiet white noise rainfall to lull us to sleep. I dream in green, of your tinted eyes and long rolling hills I wish to escape to, and I will wake up in pink, like the blushing of your embarrassed cheeks, like the light breeze of lust through the air, and the beautiful sunrise of a new day. I think of you in black, like constellations forming in my head because the way I feel about you is “totally out of this world” 😉 I think of you as a bright star crossing the night sky, galaxies will form at the sound of your sweet laughter. And when my crimson heart falls short of expressing how much you mean to me, I will write in transparency, making my feelings as clear as they can be, and in the end you are not one single color. You are the explosion of a firework, and you make everyone around you stop and marvel at how truly amazing you are.

(Dedicated to my amazing fiancé)

-T.L.J

Deserving

You will lie in your own sapphire sadness, and pray to a god who doesn’t listen to bring you a boy with evergreen eyes and a smile that gleams. And when he doesn’t, you will settle for a boy with murky brown eyes and a silver tongue. He will whisper hymns of lies that will dance across your mind until he beats them out of you for lingering upon them for too long. He will pick you as his flower and he will continue picking until he has a whole bunch, but promise that you’re his favorite. He will swear fealty to your heart before he runs away with it dragging behind him, and when the storm of his presence passes, and the damage on your body left behind finally heals, you pray once again to a god you don’t believe in, and this time he answers. Yet this time, he sends you a man. Tall as a tree over casting a shadow of protection on those who would do such a delicate flower harm. His eyes a hazel green glow and hands as soft as his heart which yearns to call you his forever. And when you have this man, you will stay the hurricane ridden town you have always been and project destruction instead of taking it. You see a cup can only be filled up so much before it spills out. 

 

– T.L.J

Loving as an existentialist

There are never the right words to describe how beautifully I seem to feel things, deeply and passionately, dangerously. I am all in, for everything. And I fall, to the ground and I bruise myself a little, some scratches here and there … but I always get back up, and I always have an open heart. And how many people can say they never let someone change them for the worst? I’ve continued to trust, be vulnerable, exposed, to fall and repeat again. Because every wrong choice and every damaging experience only opens doors to new possibilities. Who knows where I’ll be to tomorrow or who I’ll meet or how I’ll feel it’s all so undecided. Who knows what I’ll do? I play the part of a resident of earth, another number to the population total, a space to occupy, but in my limited space of seemingly limited opportunity, it is mine to do away with, it is mine to feel and fall and explore every last part of it, and no matter what I do or where I go the world still turns, and the sun still sets, and the waves still crash. but maybe if we all stopped and walked backwards for a while we could slow down time for just a minute, and feel as if we’re apart of something bigger then ourselves. I will continue to be me, but sometimes it’s nice knowing if it really counts for anything.

 

-T.L.J