AshleyLingy

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I hold my love for you like the frail egg of a blue jay, and I beg my shaking fingers to hang on. There is a thumping beat within threatening to break free from thin shell. I gently cup this in my palm and I dream of the day it can beat alongside your thundering heart, a thought to soothe my worries and feed a steady slow pulse.

I pretend I don't know why I take you. But really, I like to chronicle my days, my moods, my looks. Did I put makeup on that day? Was I tired? Was I happy? Smiling? Forcing a smile? Using a filter? The truth is written all over my face, if you know where to look.

Encased in smooth defiance. I am set in my ways, and I refuse to depart, I refuse to learn, I refuse to be taught. I'm cold, closed off, shut down. What better choice is there when people just drip with indifference? I won't open up, spring from my hard earned shell. For years, it is here that I've stood, deep in my cool fortress, protected, cloaked in neutrality. My secret lies deep. Here, I can't be cracked. My weakness. Here, I am safe. My fear. I wonder how long I can hide it? What will be my demise? That fragile spot, and one warm heart.

On the far away island of Sala-ma-sond, Mira the Koala was head of the pond. A nice little pool, it was quaint, it was cool. The shore side was warm with eucalyptus galore. But all was not well in Sala-ma-sond. For the subjects of Mira were really not fond of the company Queen Mira kept in her pond. See, over the years, Mira had gotten to know a few polar bears, their fur white as snow. These bears got lost some long time ago, whilst traveling up to the great northern pole. On the part of the trip, along the Nile, the bears lost their map at the 27th mile. They moaned and groaned, yelled and cried. They longed for the cold, the north'

Frigid boy. She sees him, hiding behind sarcasm and wit. He is flint. She is warmer than the sun in late July. She is a spark. They meet and ignite. Vivid technicolor feelings dance in between. He is entranced by her charm, her saccharine grace. Warm honey. Still uneasy, unsure, with few facts and little certainty. This is not normal operations. But he is bewitched. And this girl, she is not to be tamed. Baffling beauty. Her instability makes him nervous, he likes control. He’s frightened. But she is persistent. She has the remedy to his wounds. She is the catalyst. With that in mind, he reaches out. He holds her hand.

I tumble wildly, trapped, afraid, with the endless screaming in my head. I crack one day, but just miss the mark. I assumed that nothing lay ahead. Our love was a slow burning candle. I was blinded by darkness, hopeless. But your flickering helped me handle my broken mind, bringing me wholeness. Once recovered, that slow, steady burn grew into a raging inferno. If I had known how much I would yearn for you, burn for you, learn from you….no. I would have never tried to leave here. You are not the only reason I stay. Yet, you are my guiding light; my fear met its maker, you melt it away.

I woke up this morning and I cried. Mom, my dream was terrible, you died; Echoes of mourning subside, tears dry. Why won’t dying dreams leave my bedside? This is one of many dying dreams. Always people I love most, it seems. Leaving me unraveled at the seams. The worst is when I hear their screams. I don’t know why this happens to me. Could it just be my anxiety? I’m tired of my mind’s murder spree. Please, God, somebody, let me be free.

You look at me and your smile falters. It should. You left us. I’m left fuming in disbelief. What did you mean when you said “Love”? Now you snatch that word with cruel fists, crushing it beyond recognition. I glance away. I’m standing in rubble, silent. Maybe I can handle a S l o w S  t  e  a  d  y D   e   c   a   y, Can I handle the sudden, thoughtless detonation of my one sanctuary? Family. I sift through the debris; we are lucky. Everyone survived. But you should suffer bitterly for every bruise and wound your twisted apologies left behind. You know what the worst part is? Every time I see your face, he