Word as Image
by Ji Lee
All of them.
With popcorn and tacos.
It would be perfection.
I’ve watched you. I’ve hovered over you. I’ve breathed you in and embodied your exhales. I’ve shown you the sky and stressed its contrast with the earth. I’ve congregated each pointless man, depicted each willing woman. I’ve smothered you and uncovered each unreliable, unrelenting truth. I’ve slathered your interest with intricacy and I’ve thrown tears at your innocence. I gave you time in exchange for a separation of night and day, disregarding the days of the week. Would it have mattered? If I hadn’t practiced patience, if I never infected myself with the poison I chose from you, would you get it? Would you have understood every glance you caught, every genuine giggle, and every excuse? I had yet to teach you honesty while I tainted you with pure eloquence. I’ve acted upon your every move. I rendered myself weak to your sheer personality and fell face-first into your opaque guard. Is that what you wanted? Now hell won’t accept us and heaven won’t take us back, so here we are; breathing, seeing, writhing in between empty ambitions and lustful impatience. Between a choice to take in or take for granted. And I gave you as much if not more than one prior, one following, one that will create terrible damage to your sweetness. Was that right?
christinespeaks asked: I hope you mom feels better soon and I hope that you're doing well, beautiful<3
Thank you so much.
I hope so as well that you’re doing just fine, lovely. <3
kingdanyo asked: I may not really know you. But I just want you to know I'll keep your mom in my prayers. God Bless.
Thank you. Really.
I appreciate this so much. <3
I hate not knowing what to do, not even knowing what’s wrong or what she’s feeling. I want to know what’s hurting her, but at the same time it kills me to even think of the strongest woman in the world falling weak. There’s too much for me to deal with right now, but I can’t even find it in myself to think of anything else besides how sorry I am or how the rest of my life doesn’t even matter to me anymore. This is the worst your condition has ever been and I’m just stuck here dying inside, listening to you suffer and be as stubborn as usual. This is the only instance in which I really have no other options; in which there’s really nothing I can do to help. I wish I could have a less doubtful tomorrow every day. I wish we could both worry less and could have gotten along to begin with. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Mom, I’m so sorry. Please. I’m begging you. Hang in there.
Don’t leave me.
Opened my eyes with a new disgruntled view, you being the main fixation of a dream I wish I never had.
