Love is said to be
like a manual, I guess
I read upside down?
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
I’m afraid of heights, spiders, ghosts, clowns,
but mostly,
I’m afraid of how my body first reacted when you said my name.
Like the first jolt of electricity
Frankenstein’s monster must of felt
when they brought him to life
in that scientist’s lab,
I swear,
I didn’t know what living was till you showed up.
I don’t usually talk like this.
You see,
people like you don’t usually just show up like this.
It’s like how that girl
in the horror movie felt
when she swore she heard footsteps upstairs.
And how she timidly walked
to the slightly opened door
not knowing what was waiting for her on the other side.
Thats how I felt,
giving my heart to you.
Afraid,
that I might not ever see the sunlight,
because you burned
that bright
that I grew blinded from reality.
I’m not a hopeless romantic.
I don’t even own a heart.
Trust me, I’ve checked.
Twice.
I pried open my chest
to find nothing but ash
that was left from the last love
that ignited a flame there.
It’s gone.
I have nothing beating there
but the remains of empty promises
from past people that came into my life
but I’ll try to pretend it’s there if you do.
Please don’t look at me like that.
Like I remind you of someone
you want to love.
I’d rather jump in a pit of spiders,
lean over the highest ledge,
than tell you
the moment you first said my name,
made something in my chest move.
That the first time you held my hand
made those dead butterflies
in my stomach,
flinch just a bit.
I really don’t see the point
in giving someone else ownership of your heart.
Hands shake,
people break,
you are a ticking bomb.
But when you go off,
I’ll go down with you.
Though my heart will turn into
ash once again.
Just know,
that if you listened closely to it’s last beat,
you would have heard your name.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
I guess I'm waiting for you to realize
that this life I live is fictionized
I don't even think I'm real
these hands as I grab your hair
will disappear
into thin air
please memorize my face
I can feel myself disappearing
from your memory
from this life
and when I go
I know I'll take our love with me
and you'll forget me
as if you never knew me
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
I hate that jean jacket on you.
I hate how the sleeves are too long
how's there's a rip by the collar
how it smells like smoke and whatever colon you wore last week.
how the color has faded
and how you tie it around your waist when it gets too hot.
That night it started to rain on us both and you slipped it off and covered me with it
I hated it because it didn't shield me from what I was trying to avoid the most.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
I remember the sound of her scream.
Echoing like the sound nails make
when scratched against a chalkboard.
I remember the smell of her blood.
Smelling like her last drop of life left.
I remember the way her hand trembled...
as she pleaded me not to throw another punch, with her hands raised and shaking like those of a man's suffering from Parkinson's.
I remember the way her son watched.
His eyes growing tears,
only fifteen,
but his hands were stained by the blood of his mother
with his death like plea,
to let his mother flee,
because her breath was starting to grow thin.
I remember.
The way her olive skinned face felt pressed against my bullet proof shield
and how her gentle hands wrapped around my wrists,
hoping for me to feel the humanity slipping from her finger tips.
I remember how she never showed aggression.
How the only hand she raised before mine,
had two fingers,
reminding me why she was here.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
I've never seen my lungs,
but I remember the first time
I realized I had a pair.
I dunked my head under the water,
and stayed under too long,
till I felt them shrivel up,
like now spoiled fruit.
I was ten then.
Now I'm seventeen.
And they begin to ache,
because I inhaled too hard,
and I'd rather cough all night,
than feel the absence of you by my side
Now I'm seventeen.
And I'm starting to forget how it feels like to have functioning lungs.
You remember that one time you glanced at my direction and I felt them give out?
It's happening again.
And I'm so confused.
Because I'm not ten yours old anymore.
And I'm not in that swimming pool.
So why does it feel like I'm sinking?
I'm heaving,
And screaming,
This isn't fair.
Press your mouth to mine and give me some air.
It's killing me.
Your hand intertwined with mine.
You'd think something as beautiful as love,
would feel a lot less,
like drowning.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC