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alex Dec 2019
your smell is stuck in my head
i made it up but i know it’s true

i daydream of your hands on my cheeks
your lips on my lips
my fingers in your hair
and i can smell it

you sing strawberries and watermelons but
you smell like firewood and ink
its my most absurd fantasy
that you could find a piece of me to love
so i’ll keep your voice in my ears
and let you sing me to sleep
with that sugar and salt melody

if it burns my tongue
then so be it.
is this about harry styles and his new album? i’ll never tell.
alex Dec 2019
i couldn’t care less
that my feet are wet

my jeans with the holes
keep my knees cold

i don’t really mind
my fingers like ice

i’ll still take the long way home
good things happen when it snows
today is the second snow of the season! it has barely begun to stick, but the flurries were enough to excite me. this poem is a bit more traditional that i usually write, but snow brings out the simplicity in me.
alex Nov 2019
they’re waiting on me in there
i just sobbed harder than i have in years
in here on my bathroom floor
and they’re waiting on me in there
where we’ll talk about new signs on the highway
and why the dogs are howling
and we’ll watch an old tv show
and i’ll pretend i relate to them
they’re waiting on me in there

i’ll say i got soap in my eyes
and that’s why they’re so red
they’ll know i was crying
but it’s the charade that counts

they’re waiting on me in there
i said i’d be quick but it’s been a long time
i needed time to be so, so sad
to be so far gone in this emptiness
that i didn’t even care if i came back

i’m sitting on my bathroom floor
so alone
and i don’t want to be anywhere else at all
i think that’s really, really sad

i’ve come to realize
that everything i put out into the world
is an apology for being there
in the first place
so, here goes:

i am sorry.
i traded shifts on thanksgiving day, because i thought it would make it easier, but it just made it impossible. if i am anything at all, i am inconvenient.
alex Nov 2019
rush hour interstate
and winding backroads
both have seen me sobbing
but neither has seen me
feel anything at all.
i cry because my body says i need to, but inside, i haven’t felt anything for a long time. distance.
alex Nov 2019
it's a bad bet,
a silly gamble,
a poor chance,
a sick game,
an unfortunate guess,
a misplaced trust,
yes, it's a bad bet,
betting on me.
don't take a chance on me; my luck will run out, and we'll all be sorry.
alex Nov 2019
swallow this feeling
so it becomes a pit in my stomach
instead of an ache in my heart
so much of my time
is spent feeling ashamed
so incredibly regretful
about just being who i am
i see no worth in me
i bring nothing forth
i don’t deserve what i’ve been given
i don’t even deserve what i’ve fought for
and the saddest part
is that i don’t even feel sad about it
it isn’t even ripping me to pieces
i don’t even want to die
i just want it to stop
being so true
srk and consequences. i don’t know if i’m okay, but i truly feel no inclination to die or to stop doing anything that i’m doing. this is depression at its most mediocre. i don’t know how to properly perceive myself, so i never know what i actually deserve. i only see my flaws, and i want to believe it’s bias, but i can’t think of any accomplishment of mine recently. i need to see a therapist.
alex Nov 2019
everyone comes with a poison
my drink of choice
is three-too-many sips of wine
and a shot of *****
yours is the chaser
i am the difficult
and you are what makes it taste better
i am the occasional-unless-you’re-addicted
and you are the anytime, the absolutely
i miss you. i miss you.
the wine doesn’t taste the same without you
the ***** does, but then again,
it had always tasted like a bruise.
jcl. this is from a while ago, i just finally found the last line.
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