YEARNING

yearning and i will be waiting like a loyal dog at a grave no one had dug yet

i smell like your favourite ice cream flavour. can you please put out your cigarette? 

i carried myself like a soldier after the night you told me i wouldn't fit in your hand: yes, please. no, thankyou. 

there's more room for me behind the ugly painting you hung in the living room.

at the end of me there's a cup of coffee – freshly made and as black as ebony, bitter as it touches my palate and then yours and then mine again and again and again – and at the bottom of it there's a story you once told me about a mille-feuille your grandma made you before she died. 

tears never fell onto my skin. i waited for you to shed some; hair skin light – on your tongue i found the truth: the holiest thing i'll ever know is the bruise on my thigh. 

between my legs laid a lie – i never knew when was a good time to get my fingers stuck in your hair. was it before you lost your lighter in my bag? or after you tucked me in your bed and whispered about fear? iloveyou iloveyou iloveyou please believe me when i tell i am trying so hard to love the parts of you that remind me of me but you are so goddamn familiar and i fear i will never get lost – i might find myself in your eyes

i should've never pretended to be asleep. i knew. a train ticket was cheaper than holding your hand. my hand wasn't meant for holding but just reaching out to something that was never going to be there

have your lips outgrown my kisses yet? i should've never kissed you in the dark

and there's the problem please make me your mistake again

i have a degree: bachelor of arts in words but i forget all of them when you raise your voice and i only remember the hurtful ones when you're talking to everyone else but me. i have only known to be coherent when i touched your skin 

i’ve seen both heaven and hell but the only place that made me want to stay was your embrace. my arms kept on hurting since i’ve let you go

in my derisive unknowing or the conscience that forever haunts me or whatever is carved upon my tombstone, i found the divine granting me bliss only when you touched me. what is your mother's favourite flower?

i let my hand fall as the worthiest beggar or the deftest thief you are always in your head only to shiver at the slightest brush of your fingertips. i should've hidden in the pocket of your everyday jacket 

the sweetest tea i have ever drank was the one you made me the first time you met my illness: i let it brew for an hour and i was so afraid and you didn't want to meet my kisses after. 

against every reason i hold i chose a black spot on the white wall behind which our nest lies hidden please sleep there tonight these fresh sheets washed your smell – i seclude myself in there sometimes. 

i paint myself this morning which one? am i the one you're waking up next to? or underneath? why are you holding your breath, can you not feel mine? is it not heavy enough? when you leave and then come back to greet me with fleeting kisses because you haven't brushed your teeth yet. 

i'll forever miss the frilly blouse you ripped off of me do you know where i've put my belt? i'm touching your neck but i can't feel it there 

— 

i hear you when i look in the mirror; was i just flesh to keep you warm in the early mornings? i wish for someone to touch me as i yearn, only to recoil at the warmth of my melting skin.

— 

you are not mine yet i belong to you. i am only a trinket for it would be brazen to call myself a trophy as i rest on your shelf. 

elena c., 22, bucharest

”i have never kissed blooming apricot trees”