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Grey Vitzke Jul 2015
Our eyes met for the first time in a long while

There was pain

But that was to be expected

I am no longer sure that I am more wrecked

For you asked me a question

And I paused a second, thinking

Replying a moment too late

We can still make jokes at each others expense

I am not sure how much they hurt you

But they still sting my heart
Grey Vitzke Jul 2015
You devour my idle moment’s mind

I’ve banished you, but you will not leave

We could have ruled the world

From atop our tower

Instead it sits on that hill top

A reminder of my lost conquest

I cannot return to it alone

Am I the wronged, or you?

I refuse to bury you in titles

“Betrayer, Fool, Heartbreaker”

You are not these

I complicated you

And now you have repaid all your debts

Nearly
Grey Vitzke Jul 2015
The sun set over the crematorium
the world paused for a second,
it was still,
and there was peace.
For Priscilla
Grey Vitzke Jul 2015
Today was written in Technicolor.

It was like waking up from a nap on a huge open field and seeing the greenest of all greens in the grass and the bluest of blues in the sky and the most blinding whites in the clouds.

It was the warmest brown in the eyes of the one who is laying next to you.

And the day rolls by slowly, in the sharpest focus. It is perfect and not too hot and not too windy and I feel as though it should last forever because I do not want to leave this day or this moment.

But the sun surely sinks, until it is at the edge of the horizon and it casts a sepia light over the world. Under this light, where before I had thought it could not get more beautiful, it is like a dream, where the world is frozen in amber.

Brown Eyes laughs when I ask if we could stay here forever. We cannot, for the sun sets and the stars appear and shine and laugh with Brown Eyes.

I laugh too, but it is odd laughter for behind it’s sound is a melancholic harmony, one that comes after technicolor days.

Because now the world might seem a bit bland and empty.

Technicolor days are sad and beautiful.
Grey Vitzke Jul 2015
One crimson morning the sun rose and I bled out across the sky.

My veins pumped life into the dawn.

The razor was a mirror into the eyes of the sun and it was hot, and scalded the sink.

My wrists were surrogate wings that lifted me as they drained.

Ribbons of molten rust ran down my fingers.

Silent drops patterned the floor, a mural of red on white.

Streaming through the window the rays glinted off my ashen eyes.

I will not be forgiven.
Grey Vitzke Jul 2015
Come do something crazy with me

I can’t stay cooped up in this house any longer

Fake heartbreak won’t stop me from being spontaneous

Besides, I’m over it already

Now I need to start again

Come do something crazy with me

Let's learn how to live

Let’s learn how to fall in love

— The End —