let's go back.
to when we used to go on adventures
running around outside for hours,
I would come home with skinned knees and a huge grin
to that time I was really sick
you made me soup and we stayed inside all day
watching movies and talking about everything
to the first party I went to
the drugs, the alcohol, the atmosphere
you stayed up and worried until I came home
to stupid high school drama and heartbreaks
through it all you were there for me with a hug and some advice
you could always make me smile
to the night you and she got in that argument
the voices fiercely fighting to be heard over each other
she packed up and moved out the next week
to the nights you wouldn't come home
I knew you were out drinking or gambling
returning the next morning with empty pockets and an emptier heart
to that day I was called to the office at school
they said it was an accident, that you must have drifted off at the wheel
but I knew better. you gave up.
there's no going back.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
inhale,
exhale.
thin paper burns closer to fingertips
the hours between night and early morning
everything distorted from last night's trip
arms, legs, body, dull and yet still aching
soft static from a radio plays on
too soon comes the reality of dawn
inhale,
exhale.
swirling smoke passes barely parted lips
peaceful landscapes are the most misleading
reflecting on broken relationships
glimpses of happiness always fleeting
ashes drift down like snow on a dark lawn
they crumble and fall apart; then they're gone
inhale,
exhale.
chipped nail polish, jeans that are worn and ripped
outside now there's a slight breeze blowing
shoes peeking over the edge of the bridge
holding on to the railing, fingers clinging
people say it's important to 'stay strong'
is it sometimes stronger to just move on
inhale,
exhale.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC