Ribs and Ringing Ears

Sharing some creative writing I did last year. ❤️

Ribs and Ringing Ears (March 6th 2017)

The outline of your tattoo is that familiar dark murky green color. The color of lake water. I trace the raised ridges of it with my fingers, like I’ve done repeatedly for years. It’s almost like a ceremony. I touch your skin – your tattoo. I feel your presense – but you aren’t present. Not fully. The phone in your hands casts a garish glow on your face as you scroll through instagram. Like after like. I keep tracing.

I think about this moment. This seemingly mundane evening before we drift to sleep beside each other like we had done for three years. Is this the vibration of my life? Tracing lines on people’s skin who have turned their back on me long before I realized it. Long before I can blink away the blinder of my abundunt adoration that made me miss the subtle and not so subtle ways you had retracted and recoiled from our love.

Loyal like an old song that seeps into your skin and cheers you to the bone. Loyal to a fault. In a group that would rather stick to fair-weathered fraternization, I find myself slipping away.

“Feelings fade.” The words echo in my mind. I take a deep breath. I am sitting on a hotel bed somewhere in Iowa with a phone plastered to my ear. I don’t know if there is much beauty in a heart turning to an unrecognizable orb of cold stone but there might be. I imagine it would sound something like heavy feet crunching through fresh snow. Feelings fade.

A boy with ringing ears and a distate for discomfort and any extranious effort that didn’t serve him used to whisper in my ear, “Please don’t hurt me.”

I didn’t.

But feelings fade.

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