I drive down your street and suddenly I remember-
your eyes devouring the pages of a novel,
your fingers tapping a nervous rhythm,
your lips pulled tight in a too-wide grin.
Love isn't real,
but memories are,
and they bring shaking hands here,
honest hearts scribbling hopeful realities.
"Would you like to fake love with me?"
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
Words spill like ink from a ***
or blood from a wrist.
And let's be honest...
There isn't a difference anymore.
They scratch their suffering on skin
and scream their love like diagnoses.
Diagnosis, a death sentence,
bated breath because "I've fallen in love."
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
I haven't been the same
since that summer I turned Nineteen.
Your tongue replaced Lortabs
and lit my blood like the finest whiskey.
My knuckles ache for your teeth,
not unlike my skin reminiscing
Of pale-skinned hands and nights spent
pretending to watch movies.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC