as the moon modestly peaks through the cracks in your blinds, your feet pitter patter on the ground
like raindrops on rooftops,
causing the feeble wooden floor to moan like a ****** never been touched.
you climb into your bed,
missing its frame like you never thought you'd miss him,
and you pull the blanket over your head.
it's harder to breathe this way, impossible to read this way, but you will always stay this way.
you used to think if an intruder crept into your bedroom, you'd be safer this way.
now the blankets prevent you from tracing the spot where his head should lie,
like the blankets are guarding you from the thoughts of him,
yet every small, warm breath you take reminds you of the way he coughed all the time.
maybe he spent too much time under covers as well.
your alarm will ring in two hours, as if you have anywhere to be.
your thoughts live in a funeral home, its bed a casket.
you used to sleep with less pillows - one became four, four became more
surrounding yourself with more while you look like less.
your fridge seldom opened, your room never left.
friends wonder if they should check and make sure you're still alive,
but never do.
you painted a picture the other day with your sister,
you let the paint drip like tears.
you discard old objects of importance like you discarded the thought that he was a constant.
the only thing unchanging is the tick of a clock,
and time means nothing when it's always mo(u)rning.
every day you watch the sun claw for the east, but it always falls for the west.
rainbows don't mean much anymore, because the future is in black and white.
the past was a coloring book, and sometimes he left different hued bruises on your cheek.
the memories of the secret go locked away in an attic to collect dust and lose importance,
yet the key lives in his pocket.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
The way you
fed on my insecurities
like a hematophage
caused a disequilibrium
that could never be erased.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
I want a bullet to the brain
but not the repercussions
of it rattling in my skull
& exiting to strike those
that are too close.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
this pain from heart to head - this headache
is a never-ending drum,
that keeps me constantly awake and aware
of all the scars you make me wear.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
too sober
to block the
two emotions
I hate the most.
love and hate
love to mix into the
lovely rage
that remains my cage.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
I CANNOT SIT WITHIN REACH OF WRITING UTENSIL AND PAPER
WITHOUT SCRIBBLING DOWN MY EVERLASTING MEMORY OF THE
LINES IN YOUR HANDS OR THE SHADES OF YOUR VEINS
MY BRAIN IS SCREAMING AS IF IT’S ON A HIGH WHEN MY PURE
EXISTENCE IS A LOW.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
sipping on hot chocolate
in the middle of summer
the burn in my throat
reminds me of how you set my fingers on fire
(soul unwired)
one touch was never enough
hands would frenzy, ravage, take
but my legs would always shake
my teeth would chatter
as if predicting the chill about to bite
your presence was my sweater,
a security blanket
summer has never felt so cold,
bones have never felt so old
call it a casket of snow
time loses meaning
when everything is at a standstill
the blood doesn’t flow
properly anymore
brain and heart deprived
selfishness caught frostbite,
we were forced to amputate
lack of precision - due to numb hands
caused the blade to dance
and cut off a hell of a lot more than that.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
Sometimes, I wish to
move into the wilderness
and denounce my life.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
I wear your sin
Upon my skin
Laced around the words
That I breathe in.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
we're not making love,
love's existence is what created us,
we're just basking in the connection.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC