Every crack in my back is a bone you've broken with your neglect, a result of me arching my spine in insane positions, as if I'm a werewolf turning beast and you're the full moon making me
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
They say nothing is louder than silence and I used to believe them
Now I know that nothing is louder than these memories that are ghostly fragments scattered all across this town
Wherever I go, I cannot outrun these ghosts of what we used to be
These memories are dusty book piles on the floor of my room
I can't reach my bed without tripping over them at least twice, but thank God that the ghosts are there to catch me
I remember when they used to ask me: why do you want to leave this country?
And my reply used to be: it's too **** cold
But ********* my hands have been frozen since those last mcflurries we shared
Even though it's mid-June, it's colder than it was a month ago
A month ago all the books were still open
My fingers just keep trembling from all the closing
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC