dusk - Hello Poetry

dusk Sep 2016

i will be
lying on the nearest
couch you can find;
a cigarette clasped loosely
between my fingers
a bottle of jack on the
floor beneath me.

i will be
wiping at my mascara,
pretending i've not been
crying; my shirt soaked
with the memories of the
familiarity of my
nightmares.

i will be
sitting on the roof
above all the skeletons in
my closet; singing
to myself and trying to
convince me that i'll
be okay.

i will be
haunted again by a past
i never knew
whispers of a life
i never lived
screaming my voice hoarse
with tears from tomorrow.

i will be.
i will.
i.

dusk Sep 2016

relapse

take me to a place
where i can see You
face to face;

because all i want to do
is slip away
into the darkness i've been
trying so hard to fight.

dusk Sep 2016

hollow

like an old tree;
withered
seen too many things
lost
one time too many

like an empty glass
chipped
held too many tears
wept
one time too many

like a low valley
dark
heard too many whispers
fell
one time too many

like a brown-eyed,
dark haired
phantom
buried under years of
haunting smoky rooms
stumbling through
half-drunk.

dusk Sep 2016

numb

heard you moved on;
from your own lips.
don't really know what to say.
don't really know what to feel.
too tired.

did you expect me to be any different?
cry, maybe?
tell you to remember me?
no.
what's the point?
you're gone.

it hit me with an air of finality.
you; her.
me; myself.
would i want it any different?
maybe. perhaps.

but perhaps not.
loving you got too hard.

dusk Sep 2016

pointless

like a pencil;
2B.
sharpened;
once;
long, long ago.

but someone broke you;
pressed too hard perhaps.
dropped you perhaps.
and you lost that point;
the point on which you live.

it's okay.
i'm the same.
we're all the same.

little pieces;
shavings of broken lead;
trying to pull ourselves back
together
again.

but pencil lead is graphite.
it isn't magnetic.
is there even anything left to pull?

dusk Sep 2016

Untitled

"but i know
we need a little heart hope"*

there's not much left to say.
just the same things; same
problems, same me.

don't go, please.
i've seen so many people
walk out that i'm not sure who
stays anymore.

i'm so tired that i can't
find it in me to fight anymore.

******* hell,
i've had one too many bottles of jack
but it can't take away the pain anymore;
it can't take you away anymore.

i miss you.

dusk Sep 2016

home

seventeen,
found a home in a tiny wine cellar
off the coast of malibu
drank and drank till i could drink no more,
yet it couldn't fill the hollow inside.

eighteen,
took a one-way ticket out of malibu;
flew through the clouds till i
reached this little hole in denver;
made a home, lost a house.

nineteen,
took a one-way ticket out of you
blessed my long dark hair,
smelt the apple blossoms in your chest
kissed you goodbye and never came back.

twenty, twenty,*
what's there left for me to do?
found a home in a little wine cellar
in a big city
killed myself with alcohol

but forgot about the me i left behind.