Yeah, we still talk every so often, but, it's like, hard for both of us, I guess -
At first, after she said she didn't want a
relationship, she was like - "Kev, I still want to be your friend."
Of course, I didn't argue with that, I wanted every bit of you I could hold on to-
But, now, I feel like you regret saying that- Anyway, why would you want to be friends with me when you know I still want to be more than friends? I wouldn't want that...
So, now, 8 years later, you're still the only one I truly ever wanted-
I text you, every-so-often, because, I want you to have me as the friend you wanted - You hardly reply...
One time, I went a year, or even more, without reaching out, and, I got nothing from you, then, one year, on your birthday, I finally broke down and texted you, you seemed so happy to hear from me; you were excited even, you said: "I really missed you." I was ready to feel that excitement, it was taken from me when you said you were celebrating with your new boyfriend, what a blow, but yeah, good, you're happy
This whole fucking thing has been, me, straining to grasp a lingering Heat, can it, might it, Vent?
Now, again, you say you want to be friends, do things, but, when you can, like, see Conor Oberst, Prospect Park, because your better boyfriend doesn't like him - well, you have the convenience of me to go with, but I'm not, quite, good enough, not like those goofy fucks who are better for you-
I still try, and I feel like an annoyance if it's not when, how, you want it, so, why do I still love you? why do I still love you? I'll probably disappear again, soon, but you? no, I can't see that...
with each gust of gloom
transparent emotions flow
a whistling tender breeze
lingering a lonely rhythm
realigning clouds of smog
hovering tattering trees
leaving behind a silhouette
absorbing shadows of sorrow
all alone a locked heart
searching for unknown hope
humming the bitter dreams
of a darkened and lost soul
Like a thick mist that just won't pass I'm getting caught up in the haze.
Heart on its knees fighting to beat, still confused and questioning things in my brain.
I still have puzzle pieces but not enough remnants to make sense of anything.
Love lingers still, while I wake up every day out of a dream that I thought I was wide awake in.
So in the words of Sade,
I've got to wash you off my skin.
is encapsulated in these waves
as your tongue against the beach
licks the soft curling mists
like a deep space
brittle bones with tar
that my warm eyes
are being woken wistfully
entwining deprived lungs
because late nights
of rustling leaves
grasping to mortal
blazing joint - like static
clicks to keyboards
your words linger by my soft skin
like fantasies colliding with silence
because my writing is a grave stone
a poetry scratching rhymes
with velvet innocent shines
a vein bleeding prismatic quivers
that ripples intricate night skies
craving cigarettes after sex
take these shots
I am restless of what is left. An empty shell that was once so full. Being drained over time, with its contents close to empty. It seems as though punishment over shadows, for something that was never caused.
But why, for any reason, am i being treated thus. There are no explanations to such actions, or there lack off.
Frailty in promises, which seem to multiply over time. Yet, i linger, not wanting to give up. Its it foolishness or bravery? What governs me so to my actions? What is to become of me?
Eyes closed as I lay,
I wish you were here to stay
yet fear envelopes my aching chest
and I worry that I'll never
rest beside you.
So I lie awake and count the breaths I take,
each one feeling wasted as
the only piece of you that lingers