Here We Are Dragons

we were the happy faces
of a saltwater-stained yearbook page
come to life.
we were the kind of strawberry sweet
that makes your teeth hurt—
the sweaty hand-holding
and hurried kisses
of every teenager’s fever dreams.
we walked by the graffiti-spattered rock—
which was smoke-stained and blackened with desire—
and down the stony path,
to where the meadow met open air.

here is where i took him
that windswept october afternoon,
when the sunlight
was honey dripping from the sky
into our open palms.
here, the slumber of the forest
is interrupted by the live wires,
the warning signs (do not touch),
the shards of beer bottles underfoot,
and the lingering scent of smoke.

we lay on the rocks,
just close enough to the edge of the cliff
for it to feel dangerous.
i bit his lip
and he sighed into my neck,
and all the birds flew away.

we were in love—
or at least that’s what we told everyone—
and on days like this one,
it felt like the truth.
our love,
i thought—
wrapped up in him—
could burn down this forest,
and we would laugh.

on the way home,
we saw the future waiting for us
like a long white road ahead.
our entwined hands swung back and forth,
counting down the seconds
until promises of forever
would turn sour on our tongues,
and time would make liars of us both.
but the day was sweet
(the bees sang with hope),
and i had no reason to worry.

then winter whittled down the autumn days
until the sun was forced to surrender
to snow-laden clouds.
and he grew tired;
he grew distant.
i could feel him slipping through my fingers,
and my heavy bones couldn’t carry him back to me.
i was sleeping in hospital beds,
and he was smothered by outside expectations.
and i could see him becoming afraid
but he never told me why.
and it ate at him from the inside
until he was dust on the wind.

we lasted three more seasons,
and when autumn returned, both of our hearts
were shattered things.
after he left,
i could still feel his breath in my ear,
his lips on my ribs,
his laughter tickling my forehead.
i tried to wash his fingerprints from my skin—
and within the depths of the splintered sunlight,
i begged the river to take me home.

months walked by me,
and i watched them go.
i was a sketch left unfinished,
an outline of a girl who was once painted in love.
five months after he left,
i woke up at 3 AM
because i could feel the moon staring at me.
(‘was it real?’ it whispered.)
i crawled across my bedroom floor
to the closet where i’d hidden away
all the photos of us.
i saw his face
and ripped it in half.
(‘it was real,’ i whispered.)
‘he was real.’

today i walked to the cliff
and ran my fingers through the air at the edge of the world,
where he’d breathed life into me for the first time,
and i closed my eyes,
and let myself remember.

i am a shattered thing no more // jules c. (via ninazaenik)

Here We Are Dragons

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