by ~eaglewarrio9

it's all in your head.

close your eyes. think of ten things you love.

~

one.

i had an imaginary friend once. my childhood was never complete without her,

hair a heavenly mess and thunder followed our every footstep.

we used to open books we didn't know how to read,

and make up the story so there was a prince

and a princess he had to save

and there was always a happy ending.

               [because childhood innocence was our sweetest sin.]

two.

the sky was this canvas we splashed our joy across and we rode to the beach on my bike,

your arms clutched around my waist and the seaspray leaping in and out of your hair.

we loved to watch the sunset, that little hole that God forgot to patch up and we could see into heaven.

i would take a hundred polaroids of unscarred memories,

but we never figured out how to get the beauty of the moment into the picture.

three.

i had a thousand songs floating through my head, all the time.

sometimes you liked to poke angelic fingers through my ear to pull them out.

for every line you plucked from my mind, you always knew the right notes to hit it with.

                                           [we always swore we were artists in disguise.]

four.

curtains parted and the screen flickered thrice before a scene of a lovely paris backdrop appeared.

you loved watching amélie change people's lives. you thought that maybe if other people could see you that you'd do the same.

when mother asked me how the movie was and i told her that you liked it more than me, she eyed me over ominously and i was completely oblivious.

-

"give him two of these pills a day, that should sort things out."

that's what the doctor said to my mother. i was eight.

                                                               [forever ago.]

-

five.

my fingers slip silently across this neck, the only sound hissing out of my amplifier.

it's seemed like centuries since the notes you sang didn't crack under the weight of the words being said.

i tried to make my guitar sound like you, so i could hear you all the time,

even when you left me on those winter nights and i had to spin webs to keep myself asleep.

  the amplifier could only screech static at me.

                                                 [and i knew you wouldn't do that,

                                              you'd never hurt me.]

six.

summer rain is always the most beautiful kind.

the warmth of it tingles along your collarbone as your shirt becomes just an extra layer of skin, wound tight to your cancerous bones.

  or at least that's the feeling i got, anyway.

some days i wished i could share this beautiful feeling with you,

    but we both knew you weren't waterproof and i didn't want you being washed away down the drain.

still, it was a shame.

seven.

today i sewed together a ragdoll. it had button eyes and a heart that was close to bursting.

                  [but it wasn't broken, not like you.]

"that doll isn't going to replace me is it?"   sometimes i swear i could see the growing pain in your eyes.

"i've known you too long to replace you."    my alibies were draining like the colour in your face.

eight.

i got a girlfriend yesterday.

her eyes dance across my heartbeat and her milk legs sprawl across my sheets in a dazzling fashion.

your eyes and lips murmured "leave her."

                                             "you're just jealous. look, you're not the only person in my life anymore.

                                              maybe it's best if you find someone else to spend your time with."

     do you remember that?

     i think that was when i actually started taking the pills,

     and i think that was when you started dying.   [in my tears i can spell out "i'm sorry, i didn't mean for it to be so slow."]

nine.

tonight is the night i forget about all of my past.

see me dancing, i'm dancing and i feel like this beat will make everything alright.

the sky is just a concept now; these spotlights are covering my world.

and they speak to me in loud outbursts, saying this and that will make everything blurry,

                        and blurry isn't clear, and that means everything's alright.

i think whatever i was drinking had a dream in it,

because my thoughts are drifting away and now i'm not me.

i step inside and i see you, gaunt angel shrinking on the couch.

your once-white hair has gone dirty, turned into a brown mess,

and someone went at your iris's with a dark paintbrush.

-

this is what she said to me:

"look. i know i'm getting slower and i'm having trouble catching up to you,

but please wait for me, i love you and i am your life. please."

this is what i said:

"look. maybe i'm not the person i used to be; maybe the same goes for you.

i think i am growing up, and i'm not sure you know how to do that."

and i took

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten pills.

-

ten.

she's gone.

where'd she go?

do i get her back?

can i wait for her?

i'll wait for her.

she'd wait for me.

~

open your eyes.