2am. Swollen eyes. Sober hearts.

“I think I might be in love with you” said a boy with fire in his lungs

“You shouldn’t be” I said with disgust in my tongue

3am. Bloodshot eyes. Drunken hearts.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

“Why not?” is all he could ask

“I don’t what to get burned every time my eyes meet yours,“ and I finally wore my mask

Maybe I’m so quiet because
I find peace in silence
And flaws in my words

your heart was always out of reach
and mine was always in your hands
but if you listen closely
you can hear my ribs cracking
to the rhythm of your breathing
your grip tightens 
my heart screams 
you laugh
i beg
you lie
we fight
"do you think I'll cry?" I ask
"you know I'll try" you counter
the sky darkens as you smile
nothing unusual 
i think about when I paced my halls
at three in the morning on a sunday
and how it was just like when 
you pulled me underwater 
and it felt like I was breathing fire 
and suddenly you're talking about
when we first met
in that church parking lot
when it started something
that was anything but holy
and I laugh at the irony
it was better than any poetry
i could ever write 

[holyoak]

Letting you go felt like pulling a string right out of my heart.

they're all hardcovers and I'm just a paperback

but it's a metaphor, you see

everyone else isn't necessarily "hard," but rather definite, and they are wanted

I'm merely a paperback; easily ripped, torn, shaped, a 2nd choice, and forgotten in the back of a dusty, old attic