Some days I get consumed by you.
Obsessing over the perfect placement of your moles or how ******* tired your eyes look in the morning. Driven to actual madness by the desire to want to see these things at all times. It’s all futile though right? Holding on to the tiny moments of hope you hand over so gracefully after you pull me apart by the seams.

You need mountain tops
and the warm Red Sea
nothing with me.
I need you
I would follow you to
anywhere you want to be.

It’ll often feel like the stars are pressing down on you. As if the entire night sky exists only to suffocate any attempt at sleep you desire. The moon will bounce from the window, to your skin and devour every sinful thought you conjure up.

You can hold on so tight to the feelings, attempt to make them feel so new but they aren’t new to you. Every breath in unison to home, every sigh creating a larger mountain of words that nobody else is willing to climb. Try so hard to forgive them.

Tell yourself all about their sorrow & pain, justification. Always a justification for the lashes. Creating a perfect circle until the sun rises. You’ll go to work & when you come home to set your head upon the pillows, the moon will bounce in again.

It’s the shake in your fingers
The irregular heartbeat
Gutted onto the floor boards
Listening to the creaks of them
As your roommate walks around
Never ending head spin as you
Try to force some sense into it all
Clip and compare moments
Complete

I’ve been avoiding putting a lot of stuff online.
Sometimes I write and it’s about now.
Sometimes I write and it’s for someone else.
Sometimes I write and it’s 10 years old.
Sometimes I imagine I’m someone else
And write how I perceive their feelings.

But I think I’m going to start dumping into this.

He said let’s play a game.
She said of course.

“So if you had to lose one of your senses, which one would you give up and why?”

“Well none of course.”

“Well that’s not how you play the game.”

“But I don’t want to be without one. How would I ever survive without seeing your eyes, touching your hand, hearing your voice, smelling your skin or tasting your lips?”

“... but that’s not how you play the game...”

They wanted you to stop loving them.
They wanted you to recognize
the lack of affection.
They told you time and time again that
the love wasn’t there.
You spent all your mind trying to ignore it.
In the end you stopped caring about everything.
Now you’re unbothered by it all.

My mind feels like it’s constantly thawing
Trying to resurrect from the constant
Pressure of cold, dead hands.

The tiny pasta stain from my birthday,
     I’ll let it set in
Every photograph taken late at night
     Etched into memory
The lingering smell on our pillowcases
     I’ll try to remember it
Your jar of water so perfectly placed
     Waiting to be refilled
Every piece exactly how you left them
     Cherished
A perfect freeze of the last time
     Waiting for the next time

You miss the smell
you miss the rain
you miss all the faces
knowing you would void their pain

Injustice can only prosper for so long.

Please never stop loving the
Furrow between my eyes
Remember my face as only gentle
And often times curious
Think of my voice as only a comfort
When you can no longer hear it
Remember how you felt from my touch
But don’t miss it too much in the end
Don’t stay hung up when I’m gone
Keep comfort in all the moments
That were me caring for you
Don’t stay sad in the end
Don’t stay hung up

When you’ve exhausted their reservoirs
When you’ve become too much
What will you do with yourself?
How will you explain to your mind
That you made them lose their will?
Their will to listen to your ******* anymore.

I feel like I waste all the air in my lungs trying to convince others to help me breathe. I’m constantly battling with what I’m missing. Trying to figure out how to make myself more enjoyable. How do I make myself into the correct version? Restrict here, allow extra there. Making myself smaller verbally, physically, mentally... hoping that there will be enough room for me. There is just never enough room for me.

You don’t want to exist here.
Constantly singing the song of sacrifice,
It fell on deaf ears for 21 years.
Spent that time with the desire to be heard.
You planted roots within women who pulled you from enrichment once you bloomed.
Gave your wisdom to friends who folded into foe and watched as they attempted to fill the minds around them with riddles.
This place will ferment you,
Your words
Your skin
Your ways.