Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I think in terms of space dust
rocks and dirt and eyes of mud
rocks and stars and desire of sun
burns above my belly button
i could cough it up, i could just gag myself and throw it up
it's really hard for me, though, to do things i don’t want to do
so i make space inside my stomach for a love that’s hard to stomach
And I wanna roam around Mars with you.
And I wanna roll around Venus with you.
Later?
Did you mean: later? Or did you mean: never?
My empathetic receptors curse me with the knowledge of what you want before you even know
My abounding empathy whips, long and hard; I’m sweaty and she makes me not ask
So I just assume that I occupy your head space too.
And oh dear God, I hope I have real estate in your space too.
writeaboutlove
 Jun 2017 Joe fucking Taylor
Sea
only closure I ever had
with the last I loved
happened in a dream

I wonder if
he had the same one
last night

because I woke up feeling
like it happened in real life
Eleanor Rigby lives next door
She yelled at me once about my gutters
Otherwise no words from her have ever been uttered
Alone in her condo, she putters
Is she lonely or just a ******?
Did she suffer at the hands of a lover
And never recovered?

— The End —