Beds are cold when we don’t get to lay in them together.
Kiss my palm and make it all better.
We will now continue to live in gloomy weather,
And I long for you to get better.

You were the space filling in between my legs.
You were the warmth of my pain.
You were the cast in my shadow.
You were the light within all that was hollow.
You are now my nodding acquaintance, my subconscious ache throughout the days.
I want to send you the letters, pictures, and reminders through little paper sailboats and paper planes.

he said i'll break your ******* window and snap your neck.
he said i could have killed you when i had the chance.
my bones are rattling.
get away. get the **** away from him.
four years for sore fears.
my backbone is stronger.

i want to get into a pack of camel crush bold cigarettes with you.
i want to be the ball that you crush and
the minty flavor caressing your taste buds.
i want to be the smoke you inhale and exhale.

i want to wrap myself up into a cacoon of blankets.
i want to become something beautiful to society's blueprint.
i am abstract.
splatter me into a collage of rosy cheeks and plump lips.
i am a paper plane.
fold me into an origami heart.
maybe you would love me then.
maybe if you could just flick me in the throat.
maybe if you could just rip out my tongue.
only everyone could judge me, subconsciously.

i want you to make me forget every last piece of him that is still inside of me.
take things slow, you say?
i want to open myself up and let you observe every miniscule part of my rusted and withered canvas.
i will compress and mold our bodies together.
i know one day you will throw me into a trash compressor.
but for now you can continue to change the gloomy weather.

i am staring at the collection of dead flowers you gave me still in their vases on my shelf.
every rose is still strung on it's stem. every petal is still attatched.
i keep putting these silly metaphors together and trying to make sense of it all.
i miss you this morning.
and i will miss you the next morning.
i am left with nostalgia.