Do people grow fond of their pain?
Traumas rearranged by retrospect can glisten like constellations of bad decisions
It seems that I take your breath away
It’s a downfall of mine
An old rhyme
A sure way for you take me away from me.
I’m a little weird. A little too skinny
My bones make you flinch, so I feel empty.
I’m a little too uptight. You got drunk on a Friday night and I cried. You make so much noise and sometimes I just need the silence.
I’m so ******* annoying
A *****, who needs to take whatever she is given
But your hands will still take from me without my permission.
My bones are now my only defense. Silence is now my only solace. You could get drunk on a Tuesday and I wouldn’t notice.
Cuz one day I take your breath away
You couldn’t breathe until you could leave
And you just took a breath
all i did this morning
is plan how to get sleep at night
I LIKE TO SAY YOUR NAME
I like to say
conjure you out of
so that you appear
dressed in sound
memory sketching in
the rest of you
as if sound
was just an outline
colours you in
adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.
and there you are
I like to say
I want you with me always,
on every breath I count.
never leaves, like the tattoos
on my skin.
Everything you are
lingers in my mind
in my very self.
Leaving your side
is losing a limb, a part of me,
the heart of me.
I'm too cliche,
but all I want in this frigid world is to stay
Nostolgic for memories I never made
I rose tint flashbacks
I hope to make them my past
I looked at my face in the the glass,
Light hitting just like you liked it to,
No pictures for you.
It’s just me in this worn out room, who bore witness to the thing we called us.
From scratchy notes passed to perfumed letters to late night phone calls to frantic prayers to tear soaked sheets
You’re probably with your family and by now they’ve forgotten “that *****’s” name, but I remember every detail of the life I once shared.
Now, I look at myself for me.
My eyes are the same shade of not-quite-green, and I’m not exactly sure what that really means.
The flowers I picked today are my own, there are no thorns in these pretty bones.
I’m not bitter, I’m not hardened, I’m not rough.
I love all the stuff I used to love.
I still put daisies in my hair, I still talk to birds when no one’s there, I still sing that tune in the cold night air.
God Only Knows what I’d be without you.
Turns out, it’s nothing new.
— The End —