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Chris Feb 2014
At least if you don't ask,
I don't have to lie.
I've spent most of the past
few months asleep
on the bathroom floor;
sick of keeping everything in,
too tired to let it out.
"Home" is such an empty word.
I'm not sure why it felt
whole coming from your mouth.
I'm not sure
why I felt
whole.
We both know I'm just an idea
to carve into sheetrock
with swollen fists;
leaving worn out holes that
your heart never fit.
I try not to wake up,
but my body is used to
(everyone leaving)
routines.
Chris Feb 2014
I should have realized
from all of the half-filled
coffee cups that
you’d leave everything
unfinished.
Chris Feb 2014
I just wanted to be the sunlight
that woke you up in the morning,
the warmth you wouldn’t mind
slipping through the curtains.
But I suppose it’s enough
for me to be
the memory
you hope to forget.
Chris Jan 2014
One day you might look back,
and you might not remember
how I cracked open
my already splintered ribcage
to give you whatever I had
left inside.
You might not remember
how stars went dim
when we walked in empty streets.
You might not remember
silences that felt too full,
or nights that felt too short.
But please,
please remember;
at least I tried.
Chris Jan 2014
Your steady fingers have left stains on my heart.
I suppose that’s why they call it an *****,
because you seem to play it so well.
not poetry
Chris Jan 2014
Shallow relationships exhaust me.
Unpack the bags under your eyes
and let me stay a little while.
not poetry
Chris Jan 2014
I said I’d always be honest,
but I lie right through my teeth
when I say that I’m okay.
I guess it’s kind of like
how you said you’d
always want to stay.
I am constantly on a steady diet
of “goodbyes”, “farewells”, and “let go’s”.
At least I’ll never go hungry
with everyone always leaving.
I’m tired.
My head refuses to sleep.
My hands are never steady.
I used to think scars
were things that couldn’t heal,
but now I understand
they’re just reminders
of all the love that I could feel;
even if the vacancy sign
on my bones flickers dimly.
Memories keep clogging my veins,
inconsistencies have clouded my vision.
I’ve learned that honesty is relative
when words can change their meaning.
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