hearing you say
you're proud of me
is all the reason
to stay clean

s.s

i can’t get rid of you,
feel the ghost of your fingertips on every inch of my body,
smell your cologne on my pillow case,
the musky scent whispering its way into all my dreams,
which all seem to be about you.
i taste you on my lips,
over and over again my body rejects food
rejects anything that
doesn’t taste like you.
i hear your voice on an endless loop in my head,
both the beautiful lies you spun into me
and the abusive, muddy words
you hurled at me like knives.
but the worst,
the very worst,
is i still see you in everything,
everywhere,
in everything.
everyone.
you will never leave me,
won’t take yourself out of me,
out of my life.
you won’t leave me alone,
won’t let me move on and forgive myself.
i hate you enough to hate myself for loving you.

Your mind is beautiful
Twisted
But honest
And reluctantly romantic
But romantic
Nonetheless
All the more romantic
Because I can tell it pains you
To be so
But I can also tell
You will do all you can
To avoid paining me

"And her lips
were made of cigarettes
that touched mine
and turned us into smoke."

"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."

i wish i were an artist,
wish i could paint the way i’m feeling
as a beautiful sunrise
or an unimaginable storm.
i wish i knew how to illustrate without using words...
words are not reliable.

you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.