i.
sometimes I forget how to write because
the only thing I can think of is your
touch and the way your fingers
would often find themselves
in my hair.

ii.
on the ride home my throat burned with all
the promises I left beside you, it also
ached with words that I cannot
say anymore because you
stole them from me.

iii.
I held your hand and showed you magic,
I explained how infinity would wrap
us up in its arms and take us far
away from here, making us
into stars instead of
lonely people.

iv.
I remember telling you about the night
I tried to find myself, instead I found
the tide pulling me away from
you and your bones.

v.
“I am sad”, you say to me and it is the
most profound thing I have ever
heard, your words bury
themselves inside of
my heart and I tell
you I need to
leave.

vi.
we don’t speak anymore but
your words are still buried
beneath my bruised and
battered ribcage.

i.
you hid behind songs of blue eyes,
love in cities far-away and
places you had yet
to visit

ii.
you spoke about flying
away but taking
me with

iii.
you explored my race track
veins and scarred arms
and over-complicated
eyes

iv.
you showed me your heart
and let me climb inside,
trusting me not
to bruise it

v.
you laughed at me eating ice-cream
at yourself for tripping over
your own laces and at us
for being too young

vi.
you gave me twenty-three kisses
and vintage records , hoping
that they would weave
with my sadness
and take it
away

vii.
you shared secrets that shook
my bones and unearthed
my lungs

viii.
you stole my heart
and my thoughts
and my breath
the night you decided
to let go.

I would like to believe that your love could make me touch the milky way and that it would allow supernova’s to travel through my bloodstream and fill me with something other than disappointment but I was wrong.

-

your grip on my hand tightened when I told you I’m running away. you looked at me with wide eyes and I almost cried because they’re so beautiful. you put your forehead to mine and I asked if you would please come with but you only smiled.

it is two weeks later
and I am aching
for an answer I
will never get.

-

you held your fingers over the five bruises on my thighs and I kept trying to pretend I was okay but all I could think about were your fingertips finding my new bloodstained cuts and old blackberry one’s and your realizing just how ugly I actually am.

-

“what happens when I go home?”

“I don’t know.”

“you don’t know?”

“I’ll phone everyday. I promise.”


you said it with so much sincerity that I almost believed you, but then I tried to hold your hand and make wishes on our fingers but you pulled away instead.

you shouldn’t have pulled away.

-

at night I am a comet shooting away from your lips and finding something else to bury myself inside of, but then I remember that I have nothing behind by rib cage so instead I return to you.

every time.