Monday, July 14, 2008

our ghosts are not cocoons

my heart is hanging in my throat, making it hard to breathe. i choke on every word. clones weren't meant for us. we've always been too big for our own bodies, for our own good. we barrel down into the ground, hundreds of meters, for all the world to find in thousands of years, when life as we know it has eroded into sand. crushed by the waves of receding tides. our roots, like bones, buoyant in only the stories they have to tell. don't you see? we're immortal. immortally meager. we always knew.

love hits us like meteors, unearthing everything buried deep within. impossible to quell with the swells of bittersweet bruises of crashsites. all the ghosts of wreckage. passing through us one last time. saying goodbye, as we say hello. love hits us like meteors, and exhumes everything lost before it. lost because of it. lost in spite of it. bittersweet.

i'll bury myself in you. we'll bury our own roots into the ground. immortal, you and me. married. elated. i'm elated. my heart is hanging in my throat, so hard to breathe. elation is so haunting.

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