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ghost girl Feb 2018
buried these bones
under miles of regret
pounds of regret

your skin my skin
my mouth your mouth
asking me

don't
let this be
this


this goodbye
thick and heavy
less goodbye

more goodnight
for now (for always)
but you won't

close the door
you'd rather
you watch me go

and i know you
wait for me to
turn back

but i didn't
even kiss you
before i left
ghost girl Feb 2018
take issue with the
light of my eyes
the need that
bleeds from
my skin
tell me how
every little
part of me
ruined you
ghost girl Feb 2018
if i'd gone
left that day
instead of right
if i'd made that
phone call
waited five
more minutes
finites and variables.

the pulse
the swell
these vultures
descending
to pick at the
wreckage
left of me

the walls
came down
that day
boys and bombs
and bodies

it's alright though.
remember the
phoenix and its
ashes...right?

eve runs in my
blood, she gives
me her power
so thick and electric
adam never knew.

she whispers
in my ear,
where did it go,
little girl? i poured my
soul into you and
you let hope bleed
from you like river water.
rise up. walk into the
fire. rebuild my empire.


i died on my knees
but i wasn't meant for
that. when the lights
come back on, i will
stand. i will no longer
be alone in this room.
ghost girl Feb 2018
I always
want
to  slip into you
like a dress
it's a lovely
little dress
but no matter
what i do
it's a bit
too tight
in all
the wrong
places
ghost girl Feb 2018
so we tangled ourselves
up in this weird nightmare
do you remember? sitting
on that couch, inhaling all the
air around us like smoke and it was
smoke but it was different -
thick and heavy like it was going
to choke us, but we kept
breathing it in like it was
oxygen and you watched me
bleed out, watched the tendrils
drip from my lips, slip out my
eyes - you would have
let me die there. and i did.
part of me did, listening to your
simpering neediness of
how much you needed me
how much you loved me
how i kept you going but
i wasn't i wasn't
i was drowning myself
for someone who couldn't
swim, someone who found
contentment in the mouths
of other girls and i was that
girl who blamed them and
hated them when i should have
hated you

you fed me that smoke. i thought
we were breathing together
but you were poisoning me
had me on a slow boil,
never knowing my own
mortality til it was too late
and you didn't mind.
ghost girl Jan 2018
do you remember how
we got here? that
map we followed?
i think we found
uncharted territory.
this place is
undocumented ocean,
it's distant roads
to nowhere,
marked by
signs that
say things like
no trespass
and
this is where your heart breaks.

we promised.
and we meant it,
at the time.

you said
i'm sure.
you say,
never leave me,
but i wait.
i wait for the day
that it's me
watching you
turn around.

it's me, left with
this faulty map,
because you took
the real one,
and i'm stuck
staring at the space
that says
here is where
i thought you'd always
love me


and the one a few
yards away that says
*i knew you never could.
ghost girl Jan 2018
tiptoe
just to hope
to ever tip
the scales
into that
uncharted
territory
of enough.

that rocky
cliff,
those jagged
boulders...
they are
the danger
of your
disappointment -
easy enough
to miss
but i still
catch skin.

i've worn out
every iteration of
i'm sorry
but we still
can't learn to
swim.

i knew how.
before you.
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