mixture of messy, unstable. chaos written al over him.

how did i miss the departure signs¿¿

Not blue as the Caribbean, not the background of a rainbow. Not even blue as balloons at six year old birthday parties.

It felt as the tone in the sky you only see after monsoons, when the clouds are gray and the sea almost black. Blue as in the toothbrush he forgot when he left. Blue as his eyes in a fairy tale when he's just about to leave for someone else. Indescribable.

And although I know there's a great variety of blue's, this was not the case. Not only did it look different, it felt odd, it left you an after taste, you could sense something was off, not quite right.


And when it started raining, I couldn't tell if I was catching raindrops, or just tears.

I did not remember the fear I felt that he would suddenly change his mind.
I had forgotten the anxiety through the lapses between conversations.
My mind had blocked the uncertainty of his words, how perhaps as they came out the after taste they left was bitter and gray, typical of lies.

Although I thought I'd miss, the butterflies,
I find myself hitting the bottle and swallowing pills,
just to stop the fluttering for a minute or two.

And now that I'm starting to remember,
I'm not sure I ever wanted it that much to begin with.

Routine reaches for me and Her claws dig my skin looking for freshness,
anything out of tedious everyday crap.

She scratches and consumes my insides,
until I'm left with nothing. Utterly hollow.

She swallows every particle of every atom and flees when it becomes too monotonous, leaving it impossible to survive Her.

I figure Routine has got to be a woman, who else would love you to the point of driving you mad, only to get bored and find a new host.

9 months ago your eyes were a different color and you used to stare at me like I was the prettiest constellation.
It shocks me how the lips I once kissed have muted and evolved into an unrecognizable piece of your body.
There's nothing special,  your eyes are no longer the tone of copper, they don't look like honey anymore and the bees are just disappointed, there's no sparkle, the feeling of warmness and secureness has been replaced and I can look away without being utterly hypnotized by them.

And when people ask "why him", all I can say is "why not?".
It's actually pretty simple. He's an outsider.
You look at all them rich boys with their perfect whitened teeth, and their v neck sweaters and polo shirts and you manage to guess they will never put a finger up to accomplish anything, there's always someone behind their every move.
And you look at him, he's a catastrophe he's a mixture of drugs, alcohol cigarettes and midnight hookers, with nothing to prove, with no one to take responsibility for his mistakes, with no pre planned future.

And so in a heartbeat, his worn off knuckles and dark eyes, his scars,
simply become, *home.

I miss you.
Plain and simple.
I miss you at 5:45am when I open my eyes to go to school, and I miss you as I dry my hair, I miss you when I put on the bracelets you once held in your hands, I miss you at school whenever my mind drifts away class (happens often), and I miss you at recess as I see everyone's face but yours. And I come home and I take a nap, because I miss you perhaps a little too much. And so when it's 3 in the morning and I can't sleep, you can certainly guess who just doesn't leave my mind. And so, I miss you against all odds and despite the gossips, I just plain and simple, miss your body next to mine.
And the only reason, your thought hasn't consumed me, the only reason I find all of this bearable, is because perhaps, you miss me too.