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autumn Jul 2017
I am perfect for you.
You are perfect for me.
We could not be a more perfect match.

But matches ignite
And we will burn.
autumn Jul 2017
The first time I saw you
It was through a ***** window.
You were leaning against a wall
Smoking a cigarette.

A tall, cool strager totally unaware.

I couldn't help but wonder
If your lips tasted like nicotine
Or if those slight curls
Were as soft as they looked.

And I knew then I wanted you.

I wanted to scream,
"Can I be your new addiction?"
But then you put out the spark
And retreated into that green door.

You left me wanting to see so much more.
autumn Jul 2017
When it's over
And you have
All but moved on
You change my plans.

Recanting every word
And every bruise.

Your tune changes
Faster than the song ends
And I am caught
Like a fly in your web.

Here's to our familiar suffering.
Let it begin again.
autumn Feb 2017
I wore my hate for you
Like a badge of honor
Engraved right in to my skin
For the world to see.

I fixated on it
Seething and writhing
Not letting go.
Letting it take over my whole being.

Over time, I've grown up
And the hatred eroded away.
All I wanted was
To forget everything about you.

I'll never forgive you
But you aren't worth my hate.
autumn Feb 2017
No matter what
You have been led to believe
There is no happy ending
To this story.

There is only
The crushing, suffocating reality
That you are not
Were never
Will never
Be even close to good enough.

The. End.
  Feb 2017 autumn
Charles Bukowski
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.
autumn Feb 2017
I still think
About the time
That you called me fat.
And the time you said
You preferred girls
With smaller ****.

And sometimes,
It still hurts
That you implied
I was a *****
And the times you actally said it.

I don't know why I still think
About every awful thing
You've ever said to me.

You forget the poisoned lashes
Right after you spew them.

But unfortunately for me,
I still care.
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