I started punching holes in the walls where our pictures once hung. Kissing you felt a lot like signing my death certificate.
I lit my cigarettes from the rage that burned in your eyes every time I told you how I really felt.
You never did handle the truth very well.
God started to burn all the places I thought we could be happy in.
Starting at your bed and ending at your grandfathers grave.
I sipped wine from your collarbones but it never tasted as sweet as the bitter words that seeped from your mouth.
I started a revolution in my mind just to see you smile.
One time I stole the moon because I liked the way it reflected your brown eyes.
The moon repulses me now.
People try and correct me when I tell them that the moon is brown and not white. And that the dark side doesn't exsist. It was just the part you always kept hidden.
You didn't like when I joked about death or when I painted pictures on my stomach but you I didn't like when you touched her hair and kissed her lips.
I didn't like that I would simultaneously die and yet live every ******* time you touched me.
I covered up my hate for you through side ways glances and holding your hand.
I showed my love for you by telling you I was okay and making sure you fell asleep first.
I kissed you one last time tonight and put the seal of approval right next to my time of death.
I hope you find the girl who falls asleep first.

I sat meticulously at the feet of God.
Spewing gospels and psalms between each one choking on blood and bible verses screaming IS THIS ALL YOU'VE GOT.
He just shook his head in disgust and said not a word. Disappointment seeped from his fingertips as he touched me in the name of the father, the sun and the holy spirt. As it was in the beginning is now and never will be. Your world my dear, one day will end.
For you are the patron saint of broken hearts and sad love poems. I have bestowed my greatest glory upon you and you chose to weep. For my power shall never be yours. Not now and not ever. My darling you see, you're never meant to be.
Stop trying to see what you wish you could be.

-c.p

Your words carved into me like an artist carves a beautiful statue into marble. But the difference is that you're not an artist nor am I a beautiful statue.
Your hands molded me into something I can no longer recognize. Black diamonds for eyes. Black hole for a heart and prettified tree branches as limbs.
I haven't been able to love since you touched your paint brush to my clean canvas. You shredded every ounce of self worth I could muster with every lie that you could spew. You ruined my trust with every ****** into her and you ruined my life every time you looked at me.
There's no beautiful or clever way to end such a sad story like this other than in the middle of a

"One extra dry martini please. Oh hey wait! Make that two. And keep them comin"

She slid a hundred dollar bill across the table the way she slid the knife across my throat. Hesitant but then full force. No matter how many martinis that bartender slid across that counter, she always looked like she could use another. No matter how long ago she finished her cigarette, she could smoke another. She took everything beautiful in her life with a grimace but killed me with a smile. Her lips haunt my dreams. And her hands grip my throat. Maybe one day she'll finally get drunk enough to tell me all the things she's too scared to say sober.