thoughts #5

It was suffocating — like being forced under water with no room to breathe, no air to breathe — that was how it felt like loving you. You — with your bruised kneecaps and knack for adventure, whisking me from end to end, from the calm skies to the stormy seas — your calm skies, your stormy seas. And I don't understand how someone — I, could find love in that. What was so beautiful about the way you picked me up and threw me down, time and time again, like a rag doll off an old shelf (except that you don't own one). What was so exciting about the way you spoke that brought me to life — that filled my spirit with songs that told stories and the most vast of all daisy fields — that made me tune in to your voice like I could do with a radio that only sang my favourite songs, over and over and over again. I searched, deeper and deeper, over hopes and under dreams, the inside of my thoughts — the very part of me that replayed your symphony without a scheduled time. There was nothing. There was no explanation — it just was. And maybe I was a fool — a fool in love, a fool for you, and I didn't know what about you made me fall into the deepest depths that our dark oceans carry, but it did. You were an iceberg and I held on to you, held on to the tip, the only part of you that made me feel safe, the part surrounded by the iciest of waters and most painful of truths. I needed you. I needed you so that I could to stay afloat.