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farron Jun 2015
and this is how i pick my bones apart.
every layer of skin begins to burn,
there's a bad taste on my tongue from choking back on your name.
i hear the tones drop in my chest, fully involved with my anger inside.

and i wish that roof collapsed.
when does the smoke clear up from the flashover we caused?
there's a tombstone above my bed commending you for killing what was left in me.
no light, no light, and you were trained to move without your vision.

there goes the flag, my final call.
to the monster you were, and he slayed, see you at the big one.
farron Jun 2015
tell me about the fact that you never sleep on your left side.
describe every turn, every toss, every other hour where you open your eyes again.
your hand reaches into the humid air, trying to remember the width of my throat.

and isn't that like you? to run your tongue along the taste of piled bones against a torn mattress.

not the heat, not the growls in between,
you are beautiful, i see how you burn for me.

but didn't your mother warn you not to play with fire?
kerosene is unforgiving, my fingers striking the evening in the shape of matches.

and so we scream, you slam your body into mine.
a breath into my neck, just like this, baby?

but don't forget the way my lips burned your skin.
you won't find destruction like this in any other life.

and that is the art of my absence.

so, tell me again how you don't sleep on your left side,
because that's where the fire started.
farron Jun 2015
and to think, maybe you could love me.
but i knew your young heart never could.

i have so much rage inside.
farron Jun 2015
your naive youth could never
strategically bind with my
callous tendencies.

and that is the only resistance between us.
farron May 2015
and that's when i realized,

you will not come home to me, you never could.

i am not soft or flexible, i am all sharp teeth and rough tongue.
i am more carnage than compassion.
my jaw clenches to show i could be nothing but cruel, never will be kind.

and who wants to call a wild beast theirs?
the fairytales never end that way.
farron May 2015
it's enough, because it has to be.
the brush of your chest in us crossing paths.
the rhythm of your voice as it fills the room with every story you tell and every joke you crack.

and i can't falter this time.
enough is enough.
that's the key word here, isn't it?


enough of me feeding off every glance we catch each other in.
enough of me trying to fill the gory space in my chest with the days you had me believe i could be sane.

that's not who we are.
so stripped of sentimental views, seeing the world for it's rationality.
never it's emotion.

and my god, did i want to know what it was like.
to continue on into each day with another being who couldn't wait until i woke up.
who waited for me until i did.
and you peeled the armor from my skin, touched each scar and made a map.
"you are so strong, and i have never been under the hand of someone like you."

you believed in luck then.
even if it was short lived.

and maybe, just maybe,
before you left me in the claws of the shadows that were starved of my suffering you had pulled me from,

i believed, too.
farron May 2015
I always feel the steel of my bones begin to bend.
The flame you left burning inside of me has not gone out.

And, oh, believe me, it is easy to suit back up.
It is simple to keep a straight face.
Even when I hear your voice resound in the red walls,
or when the thought of myself beneath you follows me into the dark.
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