full circle
I'm laying here with the window open listening to the rain for secrets or something or waiting for you to tell me what you haven't been telling me
like maybe there really is a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair and her eyes are the kind of blue that is never mistaken for grey
she touches your chin before she kisses you, real softly or maybe she traces the spot above your lip where we all know angels rested their fingers before we were sent down here to rot or thrive
maybe you talk about gardens with her, how you'd never ever own an orchid cause that ***** ex of yours demanded one every hospital visit
how flowers aren't for boys but you'll pretend to watch football while you're really watching her bend down to touch the dirt like she used to smooth her baby brothers hair out of his little eyes
before their parents decided that it was more convenient to buy them a little apartment and keep money in the safe while they spent their pensions in Florida watching alligators and Dolphins and toucan ******* Sam but never at the same time
you see, I don't drink earl grey cause it tastes like fruit loops
and I don't eat fruit loops cause it tastes like the childhood I erased from my memory by forcing myself to dissociate
maybe this, is something else altogether
maybe this... is not true, another delusion, maybe your hands are busy counting change out for cardboard signs
maybe your feet move a little bit faster, not because you're in a rush to see someone who isn't me but because you're so scared of ending up back where you started
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
the average human
describes their heartbeat
as a thud-thud or a few
rough pats to the chest.
i fall asleep with my ear
pressed up against your
chest. all i can hear is the
echo of a captain yelling,
"let me sink...let me sink..."
i ask you how you would
describe your heartbeat,
you point to the ship
in the bottle mounted on
your father's bookshelf
& faintly say
*"the glass bottle keeps the
ship from sinking, completely
blocking out the captain's wish
to learn how to breathe
underwater because air just
isn't doing its job with keeping
him alive."*
your break up letter to me
went a little something like;
**"you were built in the fire,
stop acting like you burn in it.
you were never made to be fragile,
you were never made to be my glass."**
my plead for you to stay
went a little something like;
(20) Missed Calls
your final goodbye
went a little something like;
a thud thud to the pavement.
& my final goodbye was
cracking open a bottle on your
headstone & standing in the sea
with the water rising up to
my knees, with a small ship in
the palm of my hand, a dunk
underneath the tide & a faint
whisper, "breathe."
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
You drained the life from my eyes and took the skips from my heartbeat when you left. You packed my smile, my laugh, my creativity and my optimism in your bags along with all of our ugly memories and you left me with nothing but tears and an endless ache in my chest that I can never seem to mend. You left me to replay every memory of us that made me fall in love with you and now I don't even have the ability to think straight- all I seem to think is how I still love you and how you'll never love me back.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Boiling Point
When he's throwing things across the
room at me. When I can hear his footsteps
booming down the hall after me yelling
for me to stop all the way to the
front door. When he finally catches up
to me and yells at me about how running
away won't fix a **** thing, but
bolting is all I know so I keep running
until all I can't hear him any more. Until
all that surrounds me is the noise of
cars passing me as I escape from
both of us.
Room Temperature
When he finds me sitting on a park
bench by the water clutching my
sweater closer to me, shivering in the
bitter wind because I ran out without my
coat again. When he sits next to me and
we sit in silence for what feels like hours.
When he finally speaks and apologizes for
everything, even though we both know
it was my fault. When he pulls me into
his arms and I don't feel the urge to
run away any more. I know the
feeling won't last so I sink into him
and try to let go for as long as I can.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
You wake up and roll over to the empty space beside you on your bed where he used to lay.
He's immediately on your mind.
You look out the window; it's raining again.
It feels like its been gloomy since he left; like even the sky misses the way he used to light up your eyes.
And when he left, the sun decided to go too; so now you mourn with the sky. You watch with envy as the rain pours from the clouds, wishing you could let go that easily.
Soon it's dark and all you've done is wish he was here with you.
You lay down, leaving an empty space reserved for where he would lay and think tomorrow is a another day.
You've been saying this to yourself for a week now.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
You're constantly making room for people in your life who just pick up and leave with more than they came with
Hide your heart
Stitch it back on your sleeve
Hold the door open for those that want to go and then
slam
it
shut
baracade the door
before you have nothing left
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
Is the calm after the storm really calm when you cant seem to gather all the pieces of your heart up off the floor of his chest?
Don't be fooled girl
He's just another tornado that will **** up your heart just to throw it back to the ground leaving you in ruins.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
You crashed us into a tree and
somehow managed to get yourself
out unscathed and you left me in
the rubble without so much as a
glance back over your shoulder.
I should have died right there- but
he dragged me out of the wreck and
brought me back to life- promising
not to let me slip again; promising
not to let go of me.
I should have picked up on the
little hints that he dropped that when
he left, he wasn’t going to be
coming back.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
Stuck between wanting to disappear
and forget that you could ever mean more to me than just a friend
or sticking around to dig a little deeper into your mind,
but when I stay it feels like I'm digging my own grave.
My body's become a graveyard for all the places your hands have touched more than my skin.
You don't visit anymore and the flowers you left have wilted away along with the memories on your fingers laced with mine.
My hands have been shaking since you left, wishing you would come back one last time.
I hope you choke on your goodbyes while you kiss the tombstone that reads "cause of death: your hands" and its not the only one.
She's a graveyard and each cause of death is a different way you used to make her feel alive.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC
He tells me he thinks I should quit smoking.
I tell him I can't because I'm just too dead inside and he agrees,
but doesnt ask for any details
and I don't give them.
I don't tell him that he makes me feel alive,
and if I could make him feel the same, this would be my last cigarrette,
but I know I'll light another one in a couple minutes.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC