knowing my place

he is out of reach, so completely above me it sickens me a little. he said my name last night, for the first time ever, ive known him for months, but hes never said it. in fact we've never shared a civil word in eachothers direction before. my name sounded foreign on his lips. i turned around, i had been trying to slip past him unnoticed, but somehow, he recognised me. "yes?" i asked. he started on about whether or not i approved and made comments well studied and articulate, premeditated even. i stood there, so awkward, like a child being asked math questions that were too advanced. i stuttered and stammered through answers, hoping they were clever enough, or smart enough. he and i are on different planes though. he is high up in the ethereal world and i am the earth. we mix like oil and water, there will always be a separateness with us. the laws of nature say it must be so. the thing it uses to separate us is like a knife, so sharp that if either of us leans the slightest towards each other, we will get cut. this is how the universe tells us that we are not meant to know each other, not a little bit, not at all.

we are on different planes
we are different worlds
i am water, he is oil
he is beauty, i am function
he is sky, i am earth

the life of a loyal doormat

right. im a doormat. i let myself get stepped on all the time and i do it in the name of love. i am a doormat. i am at your mercy, if i care about you, i will not say no to something i can reasonably give. if i can do it for you, i will, if i can sacrifice it for you, i might give up everything. i let myself get used. i pretend to stand like a desert tower, strong, diligent and full of definite boundaries. i am its moat instead. walk over me, walk straight into my heart, do what you like, make yourself at home, etc. etc. etc. i am uncertain, i value relationships above my own thoughts, i will do anything (mark this) anything, to keep, maintain, and protect the life of a relationship. after all, they are but little plants struggling to grow, and i will pour my own blood before i let them die. i will live sick for days with a nervous stomach ache before choose to do anything that might, might effect a friendship. i am loyal, i will lay at your doorstep til you throw me in the dumpster, i am your doormat.

lovely

waking up to the damp sweet smell of night being gathered up by the sun. a soft brown nest of blankets keeps me enraptured in dreams, inquisitive breeze plays cautiously with the window linen. i slip my feet from the covers, pulling myself up, i gaze upon the newest day, bright, but hazy, open the window fully, earthy, leafy and sweet. feel silky wind slide past my face, fresh baked walkways, clouds of wool, and still barren trees greet me. i am home.