She was as confused as she was confident. How could she be so confident while being so confused? She was confidently confused. She stepped into everything as if it were brand new, making a mess of the steps and the blood she drew. She didn’t know, couldn’t tell the difference between me and you. She loved as if her legs were jelly, her knees as weak as a newborn's. She melded the notions of love's aftertaste with her own bittersweet aftertaste. It would depend upon who you were. If you were kind, you’d taste red wine, and though she’s never tasted red wine herself, she’s incredibly confident that that is what she’d taste like. And if you were unkind, you’d taste charcoal, something horrid, something rancid.
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She is so lost in her plaintiffs and virtues that she created a maze at 12 years old... or was it 9... or 4... or something other than what it was before? How did the years slip away from her? She was only 16 yesterday, then a decade went by and it’s suddenly 2024. Only the other day it was 2014—where had she been, where did she go, did she forget she had a home?
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It’s funny 'cause she thinks so much and rests so little. She keeps running away, moving, bending, cruising, bruising (though unintentional). What does she think she’s doing, proving? Where does she think she is going? What is it she thinks she isn’t knowing? Lacking in fields that aren’t showing, finding passion in things she somehow leaves glowing. Her ingenuity is growing, her curiosity is flowing, goodness gracious, my oh my. Her love is like the avenues in the milky blue sky, and your legs get tangled up in her hair when you leave. When you leave, you trip over her wires until she is so deep into you. Her veins spell out your name as you leave the door locked and barricaded, somehow she finds a way to remember while you drink it all away into a memory that seldom comes back to you on lonely and haunting nights that chill your arteries frozen solid.
© Fae 💕