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EmpathySometimes, if I sit perfectly still, I can convince myself I'm floating. I close my eyes and the sounds of the cars rushing by on the viaduct slowly disintegrate into white noise, which helps to further remove me from reality. I am on my own.
I seem to do this more and more lately. I love the feeling of not feeling. Numbness. Brain-melting numbness. It reminds me of the last time I talked to you. I told you that I couldn't be around you, for fear my heart would leech onto you and I'd be plagued with pits of jealousy for your imaginary trysts. I told you that no matter how much of an emotionless bastard I am, I can't not feel for you.
And you said nothing.
So I ripped the band-aid off; no anesthetic needed.
I felt nothing.
And ever since, I find incredible comfort in not feeling a damn thing. I don't let myself get stuck on the bits of you I have in a shoebox at the back of my brain. My thoughts dance around all that reminds me of you so I don't have to remember; so I don't have to feel
I wrote this on a Tuesday.I am distraught, waking to your arms wrapped around my chest with such intention and motivation to cling unwaveringly; you don't even break slumber. If not filtered through glass, I'm sure the sunlight would leave lasting, traceable patterns on our torsos, bending and connecting around the gentle curve we've carved into the bed linens you had shipped from your village.
My left ear feels the beat of your breath, but it's hard to take solace in our closeness. I am viscous, forever filling the shape of he who contains me, though you are not the same shelf upon whom I leaned at last sunrise. And perhaps I'm imposing onto you the ill-formed suppositions I've made of those in my past, those who've lost touch.
Though your touch is far from lost; it comes from behind drapes all around me, straddling my sensibility of how to approach your impending consciousness.
I can't lie; I love the constant embrace. But I haven't known you more than a handful of days, and if my only stipulation
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
You Were Not An Aquarium BoySea-glass became your bones,
brine your blood, and seashells
melded into your skin.
You were not quite an ocean
when you said "This is your sign to love me."
My body was like a building;
tall, cold, almost unbreakable.
I was metallic and sharp,
towering over your waters.
I remember taking your hand in mine,
conch and coral shells scrubbing
my skyscraper wrists, and laughing
about how one day you would
submerge every last bit of me.
Your lips, riddled with argonauts,
found my cheek and I cringed
at the coarseness.
You asked if they bothered me
and I finally told you "I
think I love you."
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More