He told me that heading north in the late summer at seven in the evening was the prettiest time of day
now every time the clock reads seven, I don't think the same way
He told me you fall in love with the city when you tear it apart
so he holds my hand in his glove and teaches me the art
Of how to ruin the beauty in everything
He's putting his fingerprints on every street sign and my name in every swear
so I fall asleep again outside of Logan Square
during the summer cicadas latched onto the heat in the air
but I wouldn't want to be anywhere
but here
I am hiding in the day, I find peace in the disarray
From lying on a queen sized mattress someone threw away
With a sheet I found in my parents basement
I'm wringing the clothe and preserving the lines
So I remember where I was the night I wanted to die
My head is still numb from carrying the weight
My knuckles still white from gripping the gate
So bury me deep, somewhere in the mattress and sheets
and trace me love letters through the tar in the streets
Tomorrow I will watch dusk settle from under the overpass
while I collect dead dandelions and broken glass
the prettiest things I know I **** well deserve
And I spent all summer living with the curtains drawn
so he couldn't see in
And when I finally opened them, I had forgotten how the sun felt on my skin
Happy to feel the warmth I left pass me by my whole life
It took me until autumn to realize how good it felt to feel alive
But
It's too late
Its seven in the evening
And if I think too loud, he will close the curtains again
Twirling the jagged glass between my fingertips, focusing my reflection in the frame
If you knew the things I did to cope, the things I did to feel sane
It would **** you faster than it could ever **** me
Nov 30, 2022
Nov 30, 2022 at 9:22 PM UTC
My iniquity is timeless
I am surely mindless
I pass on with this storm
Fighting back the icy winds and fatigue to keep me warm
Pulling on this fraying rope that ties me
To this ritzy view of bliss
Thats anchoring my tired feet to feeling pain like this
It’s just a sickly, sad ending to another nightmare
You want to claim is timed as perfectly as the wind upon your sail
But I keep plunging
Down
Down
Down
And you will follow me down
When your own mast is snapped and it starts flailing towards the ground
I will smile when I dip under, I will bear my teeth and grin
That I died like a coward, but you went on living like this
The storm continues on as the flood remains to pour
And I can’t grasp the fact that I’ve left my heart back on the shore
What I would give to walk on water
What I would give to hold your hand
What I would do to have the devotion it takes to make it back to land
What can I do but cry in agony
As my sinking ship goes down?
Will you hold my soul above the waves
When my body drowns?
Nov 30, 2022
Nov 30, 2022 at 8:45 PM UTC
I wish I could hate you
The same way you hate me
I wish I could possess your same inner peace
You can't stand that I can't speak when I am
Stressed
Or sad
Or feeling heavy with you
I'm sorry I can be so hard to talk to
We are fireside breathing with your hand on my thigh
I'd smother the sorrows from our sonnets
But the smoke is in my eyes
I'm wrapping twine around my pinky, turning it purple just for fun
Next time you claim you miss me,
know you're not the only one
Because now I don't know how I feel about January nights or sunset views
Or long stares or aubades I wrote for you
I miss me too
And I'm sorry I'm so hard to talk to
I'll break the lines of the smile in your eyes that weep
Now lay your head down
Forget me
Go to sleep
Oh, my muse
My playmate
You silly past time of mine
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 9:37 PM UTC
How irresistible is the tune that you leaving plays
When you squeeze my hand through the car window and beg for me to stay
There's so much more I want to do, and so much more to say
But I'll watch your sad smile stain the mirrors as I drive away
I can't articulate like I want to
But to be honest, I wish you knew
Just how beautifully I still speak about you
How lovely were the days when I would float into your mind
And I would wander undirected through the freckles in your eyes
You'd draw a maze of constellations with your hand along my thigh
And get me lost in your limbs on a cold night in July
I paint this pretty picture of you thats engraved inside his head
So every night, he lies awake before he goes to bed
And pictures how wonderful you must have to be
To have someone as quiet and gray as me
Dancing in the flow of your exhales and thinking about your touch
It's too much
But somehow never quite enough
I miss you and your taste on my lips
And I am about to overthink myself sick
Because I am still more than willing to spill myself into the thick of it
with you
We can lay on your porch like we used to
And talk about the sky and space and I'll give your hand a final squeeze,
While I twirl the grass with my fingers and talk drivel to the breeze,
"What a pity
To be a man
Foolish enough to miss out on me":
If you stopped and asked me to stay again
I would if I knew
That all these years later
I have missed out on you
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 9:35 PM UTC
I still love the way we fill in the dead spaces between us with plastic promises
And silent banter in vain
I don't think I will ever grow tired of it
It's the little things that keep us sane
Doing the most, or not enough
Doing everything and nothing all at once
I always tried so hard to be what you'd need
But it isn't like you and it isn't like me
to be laying in this field on outdated bedsheets
Ive been picking at the embroidered hearts to keep me calm
The threads dance up in the midnight as I catch them in my palm
Our pain has rhythm
And what a beautiful melody we create
Now the skeletons in our closets are moving to our heads
You think I am most beautiful when I am crying over every ugly thing you've said,
But
I am the feet that crush the trees
I am the fist that breaks the earth
I am the wind that blows the waves back where they die into the surf
I am the wrist that takes the strikings and the spine that holds you up
I am the hand that gives and takes from you when you've had enough
From the earth I have come, and to it I return
Each time I fall apart
And you dare tell me I'm not made of art?
You are the last thorn I will cut my hands on, the last rose thrown at my feet
I'll call you any other name and you'd never be as sweet
But you keep calling me sick, baby, keep calling me soft
I couldn't wait to feel the sting when I finally ripped you off
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 9:05 PM UTC
I can taste him in certain air pressures
I can see him through the fog
When it gets too dense, I feel his hands around my neck again
And God, does it feel amazing
How he takes my breath away
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
There's a small black house that I go into to hide
It’s cold and its dark, but I’m glad that it’s mine
And when the sun goes down, I hear someone talking outside
While I sit by exposed insulation and drink bottles dry
But I use his charm as a chaser that nixes the taste
It blurs my eyesight so I can block out his face
I enjoy the brokenness in everything, because it's my own little space
The ceiling fan makes me anxious and the heater is too loud, but it's a tranquil kind of place
You'd understand if you lived here
It's always before the sun goes down, and before the evening can begin
I beg for his voice to leave but I’m still dying to let him in
But he’s always been such a bad listener
He is just a visitor
And I am still his prisoner
My hands are shaking as I slowly lock the door
And I ******* hate how I can’t hold myself together and keep dropping to the floor
I can’t sleep anymore
Everything I have ever done was done simply because he exists
I’ve got a black and white tattoo of a matchbox on my wrist
For every time I want to burn down this house and he won't let me
For every time I start panicking
but I really don't want to fight
Because every time I think it's bad here, he convinces me it's alright
And I really don't want to make him mad at me again
“Let’s go for a drive”, he tells me as he downs another beer
And I wish I had the nerve to go with him and get out of here,
but I’m drunk again because he keeps leaving bottles in the hallway
And if I left at this time of night, who knows what the voices would say
he’s sliding the car keys under my door
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC
If you ask me
It's almost corrupt how we hear stories and dream of places in the sky that we cannot reach because our wings are clipped and we cannot fly
These perfect places mock us, they leave us questioning our worth
I've jumped and tried to reach them, only to fall back to the dirt
I want to find a haven, I want shelter from this rain
But I'm nothing but a frail and fragile bird hitting window panes
I lie around and, with open arms, welcome my fate because I'll be a skeleton before I get to heaven if I keep moving at this rate
They're watching as I fly, only to crash back on the ground
And I've hoped for so much more than this, but all my thoughts are bound
I accept I'm being hunted, but I don't ******* care
I accept that I am dying, but I guess it's only fair
I beat these wings on shattered things that scar and rip apart my skin
I shield my eyes but still go blind from all these wrongs I try to hide
I build my foundations on rotting nations that will soon decay and put my hope in tattered ropes I wear as necklaces each day
I wail and shriek and cry when I can't hear that still small voice
But am I really truly listening when I keep drowning out the noise?
I am nothing but a sparrow, but I can't be worth more than they
When I cry and pull my hair whenever I receive another day
I'm a bird in it's flitting
Please unbend me
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC
I could tell you the exact day I became complacent
I can recall the way he parted his hair and the way he touched a steering wheel and the color of his eyes
And how he cared enough about me to make sure I didn't drink and drive
But not enough to stop mixing my drinks all night
And since I can't stand up for myself, he watched as I fell apart
I am a marionette with a broken string but **** he's a master in the art
Constantly moving me; bending my frame and pulling my wires
And keeping me onstage whenever he desires
But it's hard for me to play my part and keep up with my lines
When I come home smelling like a different cologne each night
When I am just an empty canister they keep bringing to their lips
Begging and pleading me to offer them something with purpose
But it's always the same story:
They fabricate me
I break and I bleed under their idea of self discovery
And my selfish idea of recovery
Out of every sweet name or ***** word they've ever called me
I think I've found that "Lonely" is my favorite thing to be
I haven't lit a cigarette in weeks, but tonight I'll light three;
One for him, one for me, and one for the person I swore I would never be
Listen;
My biggest flaw is that when I settled for feeling comfortable,
When I settled for what he told me I was
I never even bothered learning self-love
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 2:05 AM UTC
She saw God in the things like her morning creamer and the shape of the clouds during summer
But not much past that
Because when it came to showing love and giving people what they need
She wanted to sow a barren field without planting any seeds
She wore her faith around her neck instead of on her sleeve
If it wasn't for the Infant of Prague on her dresser and those Rosary beads
I would have no idea what it was she was trying to teach
All of them are unwilling to admit their imperfections
Because all the repercussions are held back by their holy impersonations
Their sins will never fade and their souls will never be saved and the devil won't be tamed
By her crucifix collection
I'm sure the Lord is much more forgiving than she made Him seem
She takes every communion drop and lets it fester poison in her bloodstream
God turned the water to wine that made its home in my lungs
And while He took away the rain, it still made me flood
Because knowing I made it through His downpour wasn't good enough
My hands are folded in a prayer, but they're covered in my blood
Praying that He will come to my pity party and fill me in on all I've missed
That He'll take me into His arms just so I can feel that He exists
But Satan has been writing my invitations and my Lords not on the list
So lets toast this wine that kills us and celebrate dying young
Because the devils watching me, and he's got a silver tongue
And of all these Bible stories, I don't know which part I prefer:
When Judas sold my God or kissed him when he left
Compared to silver coins, I dealt Him in for so much less
They'll hold their noses high and boast their goodness to the sky
I know that I'm not perfect, in fact, I'm who they criticize
They spit on me and cast me to the side
because those who sin differently are worthy of no pride
Her church may close its doors and throw me away
But it's okay
I don't want to worship like she does anyway
I still see God in the fall breeze and in the dying autumn trees
But not much past that
I'm writing love letter to my Saviour with a marker on red helium balloons
Each one holds an apology
I hope I hear from Him soon
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC