you,
are a glazed lolly
a crystallised sugar coating
with jagged edges
and a sickly sweet inside that i could
never quite reach,
constantly and consistently cutting
my hollowed cheeks on your
razor blade edges
and ironically,
the blood building in my mouth
has more volume than the metallic liquid
filling your veins
and surprisingly,
i have learnt to more loathe you
than love you anymore.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
at your first swimming lesson, they teach you to breathe through your nose and let air out through your mouth to avoid swallowing water and although i listened closely, i may have missed a step because i am sick to death of wishing myself six feet underground but my love, it's not an easy feat to breathe with litres of salt water flooding your lungs
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
come here
limbs laced in cotton sheets
my bottom lip between your teeth
tell me the blood drawn tastes like cherries
when we both know it's made of tar
trace a world map on my hipbones in bruises
mark the capital cities with your fingernails
millimeters deep into flesh
let your breath on my neck tell me stories
about who you are and where you've been
your mind spilling ink on pillow cases and skin
and with the left side of this mattress weighed down
let me pretend your hollowed bones
are more than a momentary home
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
i am an avid non believer in many things
but sweetheart, i believe wholeheartedly
that your mind works in the most mysterious of ways,
that your body's framework is built on nothing but constellations,
that your eyes encompass thunderstorms and
that if you bled, you would bleed golden galaxies.
do not get me wrong, i remain a non believer
in happy endings and romance and love that lasts
but oh my god, even the shortest presence of your gasoline-being
could set a wildfire alight inside of me.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
scientists say that a fingerprint develops when a baby is only 12 to 19 weeks along and that it is impossible for two people to develop the same print and although i believe in science i am still hoping there is a chance that someone in the world might have the same etches on the tip of his fingers as you did because to find the same hair colour and the same eye colour and the same smile is almost too easy but your touch against my skin made even the brightest of fireworks envious and darling something like that is irreplaceable
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
i swear to god i have not felt my heart beat a single ******* time since the day you walked out of my life and even though i have no idea how to drive there is nothing more that i want right now than to pick up the keys to a car and crash in hopes that the impact might force the blood to flow through my veins again
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
they tell you that when you meet 'the one',
you just know. there are fireworks and sparks
and your heart finally begins beating like it
should but no one told me that i'd be in a
fucking library and i'd look up, feel my
stomach drop to the floor and sell my soul to
a boy that appeared like a dream but was
made of hell's fires.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
you
saw through me
as if i was transparent
and watched my hollow heart
beat, attempting to match your
rhythm but changed pulse ever so
slightly the second i was almost
close enough so i ****** my
skin and bones for being
built of cellophane and
bit my cheeks and
swallowed
blood for
every
time
you didn't
love me when you
should have, i built walls
around my ghostly body just high
enough to keep you out, then watched
you burn them down and dance in the ashes.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
It has been 309 days since last Christmas. 309. On Christmas eve, you sent me a message and wished I would be in your bed when you woke. I replied, and I wished that you'd be under my tree. On the 25th day of December, you wished me a Merry Christmas and and asked me if I had forgotten how tall you were (I had not seen you in over a year), there was no way you would fit under my tree, and signed it with an 'x'. I laughed and told you that you could try anyway. 7 days after christmas, the 1st of January, you wished I was with you and kissed no one at midnight and I thought, oh my god maybe this time things will work out. Maybe this time you'll be mine. And in between trips to your favourite spots, the sand underneath our feet, constant messages, photos, mornings in your arms, funnily enough, you were. Mine. Though it was never in the ways I wished you were, you still were. And then you weren't. Messages were ignored, I didn't understand what you wanted, you didn't understand what I wanted and suddenly 6 months passed without seeing your face. There are 55 days until Christmas, 54 until Christmas eve and this year, you'll wake up with her in your bed or maybe you'll make do and crouch under her tree and you'll kiss her when the clock strikes 12 on the 1st of January and I will wish that you were here and **** the time for changing who you were to me and who I was to you.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
darling i have a lot of spare time and lately i have been using it to compare us to a game of bowling and maybe that seems like a wild comparison to make but quite frankly if i pretend that you are a bowling ball and my heart is the bowling pins and you have just knocked them down in a brilliant strike and celebrated it then it isn't as absurd as it once seemed, is it?
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC