• Organized Chaos


an experience in:

- trauma bonds

- attachment styles

- comatose

- love

- loss

- anxious x avoidant pairing

- boundaries

- self-journey

Trying to pour love into someone who isn’t ready to heal is like watering a polar desert.

In the distance, I see an oasis where we could plant trees together. We can sow the seeds on fertile ground and watch a forest grow—in one, two, or maybe 1,000 decades’ time. Well find the perfect spot for us to hide away from the world and build a dreamcatcher for two. But when the light breaks I am alone again with the howling wind and empty spaces where there once lay the warm and loving you. “Only a fool plants trees in a tundra." Like you told me from the start.

My dear! When did your run so far away? Why did you turn your eyes away from mine? There were only echos, and then silence. I strained to shout to you, “I'M HERE, I’M HERE, I’M STILL HERE“ but even the loudest cries were swallowed decibel by decibel by the vortex winds gathered between us. Soon it’s just you and me in a world of blinding grey. My lips are moving but no sound obeyed.

How desperately I begged for your eyes to turn back—just a moment’s glance is enough—so you would see in that you're not alone. Even in the dark of winter I would stay and hold your hand. If you don’t know how to take me whole-heartedly I'll gladly break my own in two and give you half. But you’ve been here for so long.

All you see and feel is tundra. My darkest fear comes creeping in—those crystals in your eyes had never left. I was alway under your looking-glass, and you under my glass of rose. That was the day I realized that a broken heart is not enough to heal broken eyes.

Last night I woke from a hypothermic sleep. Did you realize it before me? I said that I love you and I meant your scars and all. I wanted you to cut me ones to match so you’d see that we bleed the same. I paid you two month’s rent in your kingdom of ice so you’d see that we breathe the same. I lived as if my mind was written in the binary of comatose and you. We

didn’t deal the roles but by fate or by folly, we both played our parts. Did I make a mistake? Did I become poison in your cup?

I‘m so sorry I can’t stay anymore. I’m so sorry I can’t turn your face toward mine or hold out my hand. No, I won’t ever agree with you that you are too far gone but I can’t thrive here in your polar desert. But I will wait for you at the glaciers’ edge. An appointment booked on hope and faith. One day you will find your way out. I still see a distant oasis where we could plant trees together. We can sow the seeds on fertile ground and watch a forest grow—in one, two, or maybe loo decades’ time. In that dream, your eyes are turned towards mine and our hands intertwined.

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©2020 Maggie Zhang / Organized Chaos.

Greater Boston Area, MA, USA