#implicationsgobrr — Public Fediverse posts

Eight wrote this in 2022.

it’s images like this i’d live and die for 
kept securely within my chest, 
a less piercing form of homesickness 
more beautiful - 
you aren’t here and yet i feel - and i want you -
as if you were in the next room 

it’s been years and i am just now telling you 
things that i, before, kept lodged in my throat 
it scares me still but i want you to know 
the same way i did that way in july when i first 
overcame my fear 
so let me find words for the finest kind 
of golden hour within my mind - 

you call me a hurricane, a sea
but what if, for a moment, i was still, 
held, wrists in your hands 
above my head?
i am all angles and curves in all the wrong places 
hard-edged everywhere i should be soft
eyes too dark to be this light 
but what if i was beautiful, something close to gentle,
then, there, to you?
i’ve spent my life as soon as i could 
running, but what if, for once, 
i didn’t want to flee, 
held fast in that early morning light?
then at last, desperation could go unspoken, 
but be known and seen and felt… 

Eight wrote this in 2022.

it’s images like this i’d live and die for 
kept securely within my chest, 
a less piercing form of homesickness 
more beautiful - 
you aren’t here and yet i feel - and i want you -
as if you were in the next room 

it’s been years and i am just now telling you 
things that i, before, kept lodged in my throat 
it scares me still but i want you to know 
the same way i did that way in july when i first 
overcame my fear 
so let me find words for the finest kind 
of golden hour within my mind - 

you call me a hurricane, a sea
but what if, for a moment, i was still, 
held, wrists in your hands 
above my head?
i am all angles and curves in all the wrong places 
hard-edged everywhere i should be soft
eyes too dark to be this light 
but what if i was beautiful, something close to gentle,
then, there, to you?
i’ve spent my life as soon as i could 
running, but what if, for once, 
i didn’t want to flee, 
held fast in that early morning light?
then at last, desperation could go unspoken, 
but be known and seen and felt…