more diamonds than pearls.
more starlet than wife.
more volatile than calm.
more peroxide than twinsets.
it was the middle of a wet nothing morning, when i was hit in the stomach with the memory of an american summer. the smell of new york city and that forever moving heat pushing past us, palms out against yellow cabs and the faceless. i was so young and so wide open to everything. i can’t remember everything we said, but i remember her blonde hair mixing with mine on borrowed pillow cases. i can’t remember anything but the colour of our fingernails against the colour of the sky.
i listen to you talk through walls. your voice always makes my belly turn to dust. there’s something about you that makes my bones melt to warm milk. your wide shoulders and my small hands all over them. it’s you and it’s only you. it’s never been anyone before you. i’ve never decorated my heart, never hung up another lover over my mantle. not like this, not like now. and i know, i know, they say everyone finds glory in new love. they say everyone makes those lists in their minds and hangs them in the back of your heart. you are more this, less of that. everyone feels this way. but i’ve never felt this way. i make the lists, believe me, but there is just no comparing you. maybe it’s trite, and maybe it’s hard to believe, but when i lean over your sleeping body and put my lips over your seventh rib, it is always brand new. it is always love. and it has always been you. and only you.
im wide awake in the middle of the night listening to the wind make footsteps through my garden. im not sleeping again, not sleeping and not noticing that my life has started. i always do this, i always remove myself from situations, surround myself with books and words and wait for someone with long arms and strong will to pull me back up. im lucky you have both. im lucky you pull me back up, pull me back out from whatever bottomless mire i’ve sunk myself in this time. im lucky. we always find each other at the bottom of everything. you’re stirring next to me and im listening to you. to you and the wind. im sleepless but im lucky.
more monroe than onassis.
Anonymous asked: i love everything you write, its amazing and inspiring. i was wondering if you could write something for me. i just had a terrible tradgedy in my life and i cant put it into words.
thank you so much.
i’ve never had a request at all before.
but definitely contact me and we can talk. im so sorry you’re going through a tragedy. send me an email erin@erinlouisewilson.com
x
i will always carry you. (Taken with instagram)
it’s friday night and i got a hot date with larry david. be jelly. (Taken with instagram)
i used to write every day for an hour. sometimes more. i would put all of my words onto a screen, line up my breath in black and white text and send it out like smoke signal. i was so scared that my whole life would go by without anyone noticing. i was so scared.
i used to be alone a lot of the time. i was lonely a lot less than i was alone, but i was alone a lot of the time. after work and on most weekends, i would shut my door and be alone inside those milk-coloured walls, eating alone, singing alone, crying alone. but i never stopped writing.
i used to write about my history, about my fact and my fiction. i used to write when my heart was hurting or, worse, when my heart felt nothing. i used to write about midnight, about being sleepless. i wrote so many words that i built them like a cage around me, so i could climb up onto the bars and see over the tops of the buildings, into the sky.
i used to write so that somebody, somewhere would know i was alive.
this weekend i got drunk on ridiculous pre-mixed liquor like a 17 year old and pulled silly faces in all of my beautiful friend’s photos.
good times.
you kiss me goodnight and roll onto your side. within the minute you’re breathing heavy. i get so jealous of the way you sleep sometimes. i can hear the wind slamming doors somewhere. the rain is coming in through our windows, throwing itself against our walls. i don’t know what happened to summer.
i put my head next to your head and curl my toes against your calves. im that small next to you that sometimes i forget we’re not the same person. i forget that im not about to be folded up for your pockets. i am on tiptoes half of my life reaching up to kiss you. the other half you’re bending down to me. and when i write it down like that, when i look at us like this, sometimes i realise life ain’t so cruel.
it’s 1am and i just switched off a ridiculous film about god knows what. you were tired and the show was no good so i stopped it right in the middle. i kept looking at you from my side of the bed to make sure i was laughing at the right places. i don’t see anything anymore. you keep asking me if im okay and i keep saying no. im not, but maybe that’s okay.
maybe it has to be,
because i am so thrown that there is just no getting up.
there is so much left behind. so much sinew and tendon. so many stretching flexing memories that wind their way into my lungs. i wish i knew what kind of a person i was. because sometimes, in the dark, i forget all the things im supposed to be. i run my hands over my body and i feel so very erased. it is only the noise of your breath next to me that keeps me on this side of the edge.
NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY
