Everything the night held could've been ours.
the stars burned onto a canvas map,
only for the sake of our learning.
you gave me the moon,
forgetting to tell me it would fall at dawn.

sometimes,
i forget that i am not the
only
star
in the galaxy.
i forget
That once i’m gone
it will not be the end of our book,
but merely the end of
my chapter.

I could dig
into my own skin,
into my soul,
searching
for the pieces of you
that I know
linger
still inside me.

and I could try
to piece them back together
in breathless effort
to recreate the version of you
that I long to love once again,

but
we both know
deep down
you are no longer you
and I have stayed me.

and if we were truly
a match made in heaven
how did the angels
find a way
to separate us
so easily?

My body is a canvas—red drips off of my fingers—blood, like spilled wine. And I am drunk off of my own despair
until the mess is cleaned.
But never is it clean enough.

Just slap a band-aid over it.
The cut isn’t there if you can’t see it.
It’ll heal on its own.
It’ll heal.
It’ll heal.
Someday, it’ll heal.

Because of this
I have found that wine stains
In white carpet
Are much harder to remove
Then mother made it seem.
And that even when you have scrubbed relentlessly at the faux fur on your favorite, now pink rug, you will never get the snowy, cold, and blank white that you once adored. You either have to spill the rest of your wine and accept that you have ruined the rest of the rug, just to make it even. or throw it out. Just to waste your money on a new one that you will destroy the exact same.

in the city,
the stars burn with a lackluster glow
admiring us from above.
envious of the radiant beauty
you brazenly emanate.
-
and on the shore,
the tides rise closer to you,
their flawless turquoise
lifeless and dull
compared to the sapphire of your eyes.

the words in my head
were buried too deep
for my poor mouth to dig up.
so,
for me,
it was easier to watch
as they ripped
my flesh,
begging for solace
through crimson tears.

I fabricate a path
of my summertime lies;
while my lover manipulates,
a truth of the same comprise.
i know it is wrong.
that it is unthinkable.
but I cannot help but to long
for this love
that was never meant to be.