Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
LP Foster Feb 2014
I burnt myself loving you.

Small burns on the tips of my fingers
where I traced the crook of your arm.

Deep burns on the top of my thigh
where you used to settle the shakes.

Ripples of blisters on my cheek
where you found an eyelash and told me to make a wish.

Red and swollen lips
where you kissed me awake.

The worst of it is my charred insides
where you left me empty.
Leathered and black with no pain.
Nerves dead leaving my stomach numb
to the butterflies the next one should have given me.
Desensitized to my surroundings for good.

Burns leave scars.
LP Foster Jan 2014
I remember having the summer to forget

I remember leaving before I was left

I remember conflicting thoughts about taking you home
I remember pretending to be drunk

I remember kissing your best friend

I remember pretending I didn't hear

I remember acting like I didn't want you
I remember saying it was nothing
I remember telling her to go for you

I remember wanting to win you
I remember not feeling attractive enough

I remember stopping when you said you wanted me
I remember pretending I didn't get the next 7 texts

I remember pretending I lived closer to you

I remember pretending it was me in the picture

I remember pretending I liked what you told me

I remember pretending not to like you
I remember dreaming about your touch
I remember losing the ability to speak
I pretend not to like you
I dream of you holding me
I lose my words around you
LP Foster Jan 2014
Sorry for being alive in a time where my spirit doesn't fit in the standard shipping box.
Sorry for liking how all the changes felt.
Sorry for crying on the drive home.
Sorry for turning left instead of right.
Sorry for liking the way it felt to go in the wrong direction.
Sorry for singing along to your favorite song with all the wrong words.
Sorry for counting to 4 before kissing you.
Sorry for whispering sweet nothings into my pillow instead of your ear.
Sorry for kissing the air with conviction, but you with hesitation.
Sorry for wanting us more than you.
Sorry... I tried.
LP Foster Jan 2014
I've been writing half poems hoping time will finish them
I've drank a bottle of wine thinking that writer's fuel has a alcohol percentage
But I can never tell the beginning from the end nor the bottom from the top
Half started or half finished? Have empty or half full?
Please, tell me you drank the other half of the bottle
Let me know that you read the first half and colored me a vintage
I'll lick the last drip of wine off your bottom lip
if you will read the last line of a poem as an answer to a question
I've been asking you for years if only in my mind
I'm a bottle of wine I can't finish on my own
LP Foster Jun 2013
I woke up to a buzzing in my ear.
I thought it was my alarm
informing me that I hadn't died in my sleep.
Turns out it was just a fly.
Buzzing around as if in my sleepy haze I hadn't swatted at it.
Just flying around my room as if nothing tragic happened to it.
It was then that I realized I envied the fly.
It forgives.
LP Foster Jun 2013
I'll admit it.
I've lied.
I remember each one.
I can tell you if it will help.
First when I said I didn't want to take things slow.
Second when I told you love wasn't something I believed in.
Third when I said you didn't have to say it back.
Forth when I told you I liked the necklace when I wanted a ring.
Fifth when I said I forgive you for being with her.
Sixth, a year later, when I told you I hoped you were doing well.
Seven, just now, when I said I don't love you anymore.
LP Foster Apr 2013
I'm nine hours away
I'm nine hours away and I can't see him
I can't see him breathing slowly
I can't see him with weak eyes and a weaker voice
I can't see him arguing about going home
I can't see him longing to be better to be healthy
I can't see him
But I can feel his tight hug
I can feel his untamable joy
I can feel his love for his lost wife
I can feel his worry about her
I can feel how scared he is for her
I can feel all of that, but
I can't hold his hand
Next page