sunday

why does everybody use cannibalism as a metaphor for love? give me something interesting, like barbed wire or prey. metamorphosis. tell me how your love blossomed like a flower in chernobyl, write about cherubs and crushing butterflies. I want to see creativity in your veins and love/hate tattooed on your eyelids.

if you give me patience I will unscramble every egg and every anagram in the world if you asked me to (I'm a winner at losing but a loser at scrabble). I lovelovelove that laugh you give me, can I hear it more? I'm listening to the live 1997 version of silver springs by fleetwood mac and sunday by the cranberries. they're both so beautiful, like you.

I saw what he said, brown like the forest and deer pelts. brown like the dirt after spring has taken root. it's all wrongwrongwrong. you are the grass and flowers peeking through volcanic ash, you are emerald rings sitting on pretty fingers. you are ruby nails and ruby noses. you are the snowblinding moon on chilly afternoons. “you could be my silver spring, blue-green colors flashing. I would be your only dream, your shining autumn ocean crashing”

show me real love like the waves that constantly crash into sailors and lifeboats. can you show me real love? I think if I gave it a shot it would be worth losing a few bullets of respect. I'll lead you away from horrors with my hands over your eyes and pinkies intertwined. I'll kiss you on your cheek and tell you you're too green to feel blue. sew your eyes shut like cobwebs in dark alleys and only dream of limerence and yearning, and I'll only dream of you. I think we could make it if you asked. I think we could make a lot of things like love crocheted in threads of pixie dust.

you mystify me. love, cj