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Description
sometimes, late at night when it felt as if the weight of the world was
pressing down on her chest she imagined what it would be like to be
curled up in his arms. it pushed and pulled at muscle and sinew and left
her aching from the inside out until her skin was blooming with purple
and blue watercolour bruises. she longed. ached for him until something
in her head snapped and she remembered clearly again. she remembered the
softness of his lips, the delicate slope of his jaw. she remembered the
feel of him pressed against her, all soft skin and teasing warmth. more
than that, she remembered how it felt to be nestled in his arms.
remembered it so vividly that she feared her heart might burst because
it wanted it again so badly.

she had left stories in the ridges
of his skin, half thought out poems and words hidden in his eyes, that
she'd hoped one day he'd find them and his heart might fill with
something it was missing. and for the shortest moment she'd let her
guard down and crumble. but then her heart would unleash a burn, a
wildfire that would instantly evaporate even the deepest ocean in her
chest. she would remember how he was the reason that all her valleys
filled with blue and how the poems were never finished because anger
destroys instead of creates.
and he was rotten to the core anyway.

but she loved every rotten inch of him. she couldn't get enough of his
touch and fell in love with the way his lips brushed against hers. even
when her anger demanded she realize he was nothing but bad some part of
her still craved him. she'd let her heart get the better of her and now
she was suffering. he held a piece of her that she needed to keep
living. he quieted the oceans that swelled inside of her lungs,
commanded the flames that dances atop its surface. she would later find
it ironic that he was the one to still the turmoil inside of her, but
was the very cause of it as well.

she'd tried to give him the parts she didn't deem necessary to her survival,
her 3rd grade memories, her eyelashes, the way she feels when it rains or
the scar on her left ankle. but know she realises they were the bits that held the
larger parts together and her insides are more turbulent than ever.
maybe she could live with her own personal atlantic ocean inside her
at least her mother told her you cant ever drown in your own tears,
and this was essentially the same.

her mother also said that loves makes you do crazy things, which would explain,
well, quite a lot actually. but one thing her mother never told her was that after
love things would never feel the same. she didn't feel the same with him as she did
with another boy with ocean lungs and sad eyes. where he caused chaos inside of her,
this new boy caused nothing but calm. she found that she loved the way it felt to have
their fingers interlaced and when she would cuddle with him under that oak tree by the river
she'd swear that she could hear his oceans lapping at his insides, too.

Description
sometimes, late at night when it felt as if the weight of the world was
pressing down on her chest she imagined what it would be like to be
curled up in his arms. it pushed and pulled at muscle and sinew and left
her aching from the inside out until her skin was blooming with purple
and blue watercolour bruises. she longed. ached for him until something
in her head snapped and she remembered clearly again. she remembered the
softness of his lips, the delicate slope of his jaw. she remembered the
feel of him pressed against her, all soft skin and teasing warmth. more
than that, she remembered how it felt to be nestled in his arms.
remembered it so vividly that she feared her heart might burst because
it wanted it again so badly.

she had left stories in the ridges
of his skin, half thought out poems and words hidden in his eyes, that
she'd hoped one day he'd find them and his heart might fill with
something it was missing. and for the shortest moment she'd let her
guard down and crumble. but then her heart would unleash a burn, a
wildfire that would instantly evaporate even the deepest ocean in her
chest. she would remember how he was the reason that all her valleys
filled with blue and how the poems were never finished because anger
destroys instead of creates.
and he was rotten to the core anyway.

but she loved every rotten inch of him. she couldn't get enough of his
touch and fell in love with the way his lips brushed against hers. even
when her anger demanded she realize he was nothing but bad some part of
her still craved him. she'd let her heart get the better of her and now
she was suffering. he held a piece of her that she needed to keep
living. he quieted the oceans that swelled inside of her lungs,
commanded the flames that dances atop its surface. she would later find
it ironic that he was the one to still the turmoil inside of her, but
was the very cause of it as well.

she'd tried to give him the parts she didn't deem necessary to her survival,
her 3rd grade memories, her eyelashes, the way she feels when it rains or
the scar on her left ankle. but know she realises they were the bits that held the
larger parts together and her insides are more turbulent than ever.
maybe she could live with her own personal atlantic ocean inside her
at least her mother told her you cant ever drown in your own tears,
and this was essentially the same.

her mother also said that loves makes you do crazy things, which would explain,
well, quite a lot actually. but one thing her mother never told her was that after
love things would never feel the same. she didn't feel the same with him as she did
with another boy with ocean lungs and sad eyes. where he caused chaos inside of her,
this new boy caused nothing but calm. she found that she loved the way it felt to have
their fingers interlaced and when she would cuddle with him under that oak tree by the river
she'd swear that she could hear his oceans lapping at his insides, too.