I could have been single.
I could have left this town and never looked back.
But you got in the way of that.

And I Love you for it.
But it doesn't change the fact I'm leaving.
And as my last month approaches I wonder if this little summer fairy tale.
Will get a happy ending.

just wondering if maybe i could be the small gust of wind that blows through your hair one day when you're happy

fill my lungs with smoke

I light cigarettes,
in hopes that i will forget you.

i cant

I light cigarettes,
in hopes that the smoke will wash away your scent.

spices and vanilla

I light cigarettes,
in hopes that i will forget how you tasted.

coffee and bagels

I light cigarettes,
in hopes that the fires i start will burn a hole in my memory so i can forget the colour of your eyes, or how they gleamed like sapphires.

i still see the sapphires

And the truth is,
i cannot forget you,
Or how you smelled like spices and vanilla,
Or how every morning when i kissed you and you’d taste like the bagels and coffee that you had,
Or how your eyes are the centre of my universe, and how they glimmer like distant stars a million light years away.

These cigarettes are not enough,
they do not intoxicate me as much as my thoughts of you do.

And even if i tried to drown myself in the deepest oceans,
or if i tried to throw myself off the highest buildings,

i will never, never, be able to forget you.

fill my lungs with smoke

color me the hue of your cigarette ash;

slam broken beer bottles in to my palm

and wipe the blood on an old t-shirt. 

paint me pretty with ***** red lipstick
(stolen from my mother)

and stuff me in to china doll shells. 

you say “this change will be good for you”

i say “this is too fun to stop”

my father says “oh good god, what have you done?”

but darling, let’s not listen to anyone else,

and continue tattooing memories on our skin.”

she says “i had an epiphany. looking backwards only brings you down, so looking forward must bring you up. it has to be true.”

for the first time, i had seen hope in her eyes.

she thought that night she found her answer, she finally cracked her code.

she figured that if fish stink from the head down then she was going to be a bird.

i picture where she is now and if her thoughts on life have changed after she devoured all of those dead fish. i wonder if she’s still eating them now.

he told me that he had an epiphany and took a fist full of pills but never told me what his epiphany really was.

it was one thing after another with him, he was wild.

not only was he a bird, but he was tiger and even though his stripes weren’t visible, i knew they were real.

i scrubbed that ******* clean more times than i can count.

nothing.

i finally realize now after years of trying to figure this creature out that his so called epiphany’s were only wasted ideas on how to get the hell out of this no-where town. ideas on how to get his stripes back.

they made me question whether or not epiphany’s were real

because i ran into her on the street one day and all i saw were scales.

and he was a tiger out for blood.

i was stupid enough for trying to tame him.

and it took me a long time to leave.

all bandaged up, i think i had an epiphany.

it’s like the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning.

it’s like that first cool october breeze of the year.

it’s the feeling that makes you “want this moment forever”.

show me the way towards the fountain of youth;

but leave me half-way

because i really need to be strong.

i need to find my own way.

i’ll fill all of these jars and bring some home to you.

drink it in your backyard.

drink it at our dinner for two.

it’s like the first skinny dip in 80 degree weather.

it’s that first time you see a waterfall.

show me the way down there but don’t say a word when i strip down, swim along top of rocks that will later bruise my feet, and stand tall underneath it.

let it pour down on me.

let it sting my skin.

because i really need to feel alive.

it’s like looking up at everything that’s rushing down and realizing how ******* beautiful life can be.

it’s that realization.

maybe.

If an extensive amount of sadness can create sickness,
then I am on my death bed.
At 7 in the evening,
It creeps up on me when I wish for my thoughts to be most at rest.
My legs and arms are numb.
They only make movements when my entire body begins to ache from one laying position.
My stomach suffers from an obsessive frenzy,
And I begin to believe
that my body is more focused on bringing me pain
than it is working against the pain.
At this point I don't mind.
My eyes are swollen shut from the lack of tears yet
heavy from the lack of dryness.
I have become vulnerable to my demons.
Because sadness can cause sickness and I am on my death bed,
and I don't care how long I go on without food for the mind
and food for the heart.
Because I am on my death bed.