– Josephine
I’ve seen riverbeds and lake sunsets in your eyes.
It looks like someone caught the sunlight in your hair,
you move with the slightest effort.
And when you look back, and you glance, it seems like everything seems to stop for a brief moment.
What I’m trying to tell you is that beautiful wouldn’t suit you.
You have loved and been loved by god, and there are angels locked in your ribcage
– words I shouldn’t make public
And you never asked me. You just told me to stay awake. And I hadn’t quite figured out why I had to, and why I did it. The day evolved into the rising morning in which we always embrace the dark. At midday, we had already met. I saw you in the corner of my eye, you were passing the hallways in such haste that you didn’t notice me. I watched the silhouette of what had to be you. And I watched the door open en close. I watched at the spot where you just went, and where you just disappeared. It meant entirely nothing, but I glanced into the hallway beside me. It occured to me that we never cross ways, we had never clashed into each others figure. We somehow always moved side by side, it could have been an inch, it could have been outside out comfort zone, but it never was close enough. It was save, risky and defiant.
It wouldnt be long before you were in sight again. But always alongsides, and never up front.
I don’t know where I am going. I don’t know what I am trying to write. I know that I’m a mess and that my coffee isn’t warm anymore. My hair lost his golden glance and my body has disappeared in layers of comfort. The ridges of my hands are clean and my eyelashes are curled again. I recall myself walking head down through the school hallways yesterday. I never used to be that way.
I don’t know where I am going. I don’t know where I lost it. Maybe it was on that mountaintop, where I turned 360 degrees into the wild. Maybe it was that drunk night when I fell asleep in my own dream. Maybe it was that bright morning which made me feel extremely happy. Maybe it was that afternoon when I watched the sunset without blinking. Maybe it was that day that I lost myself in all astonishment about life.
I don’t know where I am going. I feel like standing in the middle of a busy trainstation. People flashing left and right. People I haven’t met and people I might have met. And they might have a destination, some may not. We’re all trying to follow our heart. We’re all doubting which train to take and were to stop. Which is a metaphor for life, you never know where to start, and where to end.
I don’t know where I am going.
As long as I move forward.
Everywhere I went you can spot subtile grey-faded fingerprints. The air will echo all those lines I have silently mumbled. And the night sky has absorbed and reflected all that was wondering in my mind. It’s waiting there for him to find it. It’s waiting there for him to realize he can’t just get away.
I think I was never destined to be loved by a lot of people. Mostly it were the odd one’s out. The one’s with music in their ears and dreams in their heads. Those were the people that could cope with me and my integrity. With me and my endless amount of flaws and faults. But they were there for me, and I would always have their back.
I’ve pushed so many boundaries and I’ve yelled louder than I thought I would. I know that I’m insane but I had to know the truth.
I am finally forgiving myself for what I have done. I remember how much I loved you. I remember how it wasn’t enough. I remember that you cried and I knew you would cry again. I moved me, but those were just tiny chunks. They were nothing compared to the black lava flows who held my heart. They were exactly what I was looking for. Those cracks and half-loose chucks of everything I used to be. Moving them were dangerous and beautiful. I was madly in love and reckless. I wanted to know how far I could push. How much more tensions and power could I give before it would break? You didn’t give in. You held the black lava stones as if they were gifts and you collected them in you shirt pocket. You never seemed to matter that the rivers were becoming empty and that the sky hadn’t been blue for weeks. You never seemed to matter that the mornings were just stretches of the blurry nights before. You never seemed to notice that I was seeking for more, for such greater goods. You took everything you had for granted because it was love. But even though it was love it wasn’t enough. I am forgiving myself for what I have done. Because I knew that they were the right thing to do back then. Even though it didn’t look like it. Because it was love.
I remember that you tried to make it better. You stumbled upon your own efforts. You fell and all of the black lava stones slid from you shirt pocket. They were shattered across the floor. You didn’t stood up, you watched me walk away. It wasn’t love.
The overthinking 