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ashley Sep 2013
they say it takes three weeks to make a habit but thats a lie because you became addicting the minute i laid eyes on you.

your lips became like cigarettes
if i kissed them long enough i knew theyd be the death of me
such a beautiful way to die.

your eyes became like heroine injected into my thoughts
slowing down my heartbeat till it was beating in rhythm with the syllables of your name.

your breathing became like *******
and i wish i could see your sighs floating through the air and taste each time your chest rises and falls
i want to experience you with all of my senses.

your words became like liquor
hard to swallow in great amounts
because i wanted time to memorize and appreciate every letter of every word that rolled off your tongue.
ashley Sep 2013
i wouldnt be able to escape you
youve wrapped yourself around all of my atoms, everything that i am
youve consumed my organs and floated within my veins for far too long now

youve stitched your name on the inside of my eyelids
so everytime i sleep i dream of you
and everytime i blink i see you

when im dead, we will rest together peacefully in the silence of my grave

every time i  see deep brown eyes theyd swallow up my memories and project them on a screen like a sad old black and white movie at a drive in theater

ive studied the syntax of your sentences and id teach myself to talk like you, so everytime i had a conversation youd still be a part of it

our time together was brief yet long enough to capture the magic
like a shooting star except you were my entire night sky

your heart the moon and your thoughts danced amongst the stars

and the kisses my mother gives me each time we say goodbye will never compare to the way your lips met mine so crucially like i was the antidote to the worst kind of poison

if we broke up there would be no antidote.
ashley Sep 2013
its coincidental that we are reading The Scarlet Letter in class
it goes hand and hand with my regrets
a constant reminder.

rather than eating away at me
the guilt grows inside of me
except it lasts more than nine months.

similar to Chillingworth my soul is "lonely and chill"
i've tossed aside every good thing
like a scratched record or old worn-down novels.

there's a strange illusion between who i am and who i appear to be
like my favorite halloween costume
except there are no treats only tricks.

i'd be Hester Prynne's best friend
we could relate and count our flaws like astronomers count the stars
we'd compare who is worse
us or satan.

she wears her "A" i wear my smile
but we both wear shame as well as we wear our favorite dress
every lie threaded together to form the perfect sin
the same gown we wear on our deathbed.

the secrets flow within my veins
sometimes i wonder where all my blood has gone
it dropped to my feet making them deadweights
except the only weight is the consequences on my shoulders.

guilt.

— The End —