turmoil doesn’t really flow.

When I was yours, I was happier.
Not entirely complete but more put together than I had been and ever will be.
Broken beyond repair, you picked up every piece of me, tarnished and wrecked, but you reached for the slivers that looked polished, first.
I should have known better than to expect you to not think of me as filled with those pretty pieces and disregard the rest of them.

A ticking time bomb.
I am on the verge of exploding and ruining everything around me because destruction has always been in my bloodstream, I know this because I see the doors with the punched holes in them every single day and I look at the way my mother’s eyes pain when she massages the purple and blue in her fists that I just want to kiss sweetly because of how gentle she chooses to be despite withholding all of that power. I wish I was more like my mother.

A broken clock.
After years of constantly moving, counting each second, reminiscing on the last, I worked for you. I let each second pass by just so that you would use more of what I could give as yet another chance to smile. And I knew someday I’d run out of time to give you, because we all do, but I was so ready to replace the battery in me and start all over because giving you the essence of life was my purpose. Full speed ahead, I ended up giving you too much of myself and you got too overwhelmed, shaking, screaming, sweat pouring down your face, you dropped me.

You dropped me and now I’m stuck on 19:00 which happens to be the beginning of our first date which took place years ago, so for the rest of my life I will pretend to be waiting for you to walk in, beardless, baby faced wearing a blue shirt and keeping a baseball hat in the car that we would lose before the end of the night.

My heart is so fixated on the past that my body gets way ahead of itself and it doesn’t help being this contradictory because it makes me think of how you said you could never live without me and now youre doing just that and I don’t understand why we think we can’t do things that we end up doing anyway or why, why, why it has to end up being the things we don’t want to end up doing that we end up doing, anyway?

I was quiet.
Quiet in the sense where I wouldnt speak too much because I knew that my tongue was poisonous and I didn’t want to harm you in that way because there is no way of getting rid of the venom I am made of. I should have warned you before. I did. I warned you.

You didn’t listen, and I guess it’s because you’re a Pisces. And Pisces are intrigued by broken things. Because Pisces are broken. And by fixing something, in turn, they think they’re fixing themselves. I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Because Pisces are clumsy too, you should have left my pieces on the ground because even though you picked up the ugly pieces last, you were bound to cut yourself. My ugly pieces have that effect on people, they sting, because I’m a Scorpio, remember? Which is funny because Scorpios and Pisces are really compatible and that’s probably so because we’re both water signs. But water isn’t always good. I’ve always been afraid of water. I’ve always been afraid of drowning. I became afraid of you. I’m afraid of what we’ve become. God, I should have seen the signs.

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Let me be!

In a world filled with adventure and mystery of all sorts, you’re going to attempt to stop this gypsy soul from wondering and wandering? I’d like to see you try!

I intend to turn every wheel of the ships I’ll sail through storms and peaceful winds, passing icebergs filled with sorrow, towards the shores of peaceful, harmonious tomorrows.

I’ll read every word uttered and written by the masterminds whose lives were either filled with distress or happiness which nothing can compare to.

I shall entwine souls of darkness or those made of gold, who will influence my aura with both bad and good.

I will travel to places visited by everyone and those visited by none..

I will kiss the lips and taste the tongues of the most artistic beings and thereafter utter every poem learnt from each kiss.

I will walk on dust and grass and caress the breasts of our beautiful earth, barefoot, taking in every vibration she gifts the feel of my skin with.

I will do all of this and so much more, but I will not conform. I will not play any part in a system created by someone so like me. For I, the lovely human, have been created to just be..

It’s the time of the year when my soul feels caged again.

The essence within it continuously longs for it’s deserved freedom.

My heart’s being nudged and tugged by the stars in space.

My skin’s being swept away towards the sky by it’s sweet kisses better known as the air.

My hair’s being caressed and held onto by the feathers of the birds who’ve been free since birth.

Nature. So inviting. So enticing. Calling out my name..

I hear her clearly. I see the signs.

But what baffles and bothers me most is the question floating around lucidly within..

-How do I reach for the sky?