There is a light trapped in her room
Where old cigarettes stain
the yellow walls
With a putrid
placidity
Not natural
not her own
like the rows on her hips
that wont fade
or the love stuck
to her already puckered lips
she can talk
but wont quit

It's deeper than that
she says
yet the atmospheric
pressure is still
and her mind

chaotic

  calm

      chaotic

             calm



                       crash

I never had            rose petals
placed in my head
or a *******
                         sappy romance
just concrete
bricks
scraping my back
every time your
body
tensed up and swayed
the thoughts
the dead leaves
left alone
to wash down
the drain or
sink into the Earth

I often wonder how
it would've been if
I had
tried to say no
instead of not saying
yes

If I could I'd
walk away
And I wouldn't even
think
twice
if I could I
would let go of
my heart
Because I know it
feels too much
For every
dying being around
Me (they are really just
Pests)
But for some
Reason I like
Malnourishing
My heart
for some reason
I like
to hurt
And maybe
Just maybe
In 23 hours
I'll be able to
Leave
To walk away from
You

Its more likely
that I wont

i don't think that i will know you five years from now,
but i will remember you,
and i will hope that
wherever you are
and whatever you're doing,
you are happy,
because that's all i ever wanted for you,
anyways

"Try it out." he said
And my stomach
tangled with my brain
hunger
consumed me
but not the other
way around

we had always been
unvarnished
and mostly untouched
but then
I crept into the
basement of my
halfway thoughts
and there I wished
to hear him
one more
time

but I knew
his pale,
blue moon voice
had been lost
and I knew
the past could
only feel good once
and cigarettes couldn't
be smoked twice

I knew better
but still
   it came as such a surprise
that each fraudulent feeling
wouldn't seep the same
and even through
your stumbling words
I could tell
that you meant
well

I accidently bumped
My hand against yours
You pulled away discreetly. It
must have been my fault

My condolences on
your sexuality

And I don't dream about you anymore,
But I still get scared when someone pretends to hit me,
And I can still feel that empty ache in my chest
In the middle of the night.
And I talked ad nauseum about the things you did to me,
But only once about losing you.
How do I explain the secret beautiful parts
Of the boy with the scars?
How do I explain the difference between
The boy with the lovely words and utopian dreams
And the one who put my head through the drywall?
How the pain of having you
Will never come close
To the exquisite agony of knowing I will never see you again?
I loved you, at least a little bit,
And that matters,
Too.