It hasn't stopped raining since the day you left.
Pouring.
I've been waiting for you to walk through that front door.
Home.
And I'd be lying if I said I've compared and mapped your every freckle to the stars in the constellations.
But there just wouldn't be enough time in the world to intake something as so beautiful.
Especially when you sailed away so long ago and left me to buoy with the tiger lilies
Until I finally sank to the bottom.
Drowned.

Poetry is not synonymous for love.
Poetry is not synonymous for pain.
But I can make its words into an adjective
and use it to describe the tightening in my chest when I look at you
or the tightening in my chest
when you look the other way.

There is a love I wish I'd never known;
Its bitter taste still burning on my tongue
Like steaming coffee sipped in haste.
I held my air tight to my chest, but you
Ripped it from my lungs with no warning,
Replacing it with your breath, old cigarettes,
And fumes from gasoline-soaked memories.

****, I was eighteen and had nothing left,
But you lit me on fire. You took more of me
Than I had to give, then left me alone
To create someone new out of my ashes.
Little did you know, I'd fill my cracks with gold,
Forge a new heart, then let the old one melt.
Babe, if love feeds on pain, devour someone else.

You ran and ran and ran, lied to yourself time and time again,
Until it happened, as you knew it would, turning all your dreams and lies into pain.

And he’s pretty and she’s lovely and they’re happy together,
While you’re sitting by yourself, writing poems and waiting to feel better.
It’s over now, you lost the love of your life, she lost a friend,
And you’re at a loss, wishing you were him and praying for the end.

And now there’s so much time, to lie awake at night and watch the days turn into years,
Going through the motions, imagining the worst, then getting struck by fear.
But that’s all that is left, endless thoughts and a void that no pal can heal,
Only a miracle, which only He can provide, but He is not even real.

Months later,
and still I sit in the shower
for hours at a time,
hoping to one day
wash away the handprints
that didn't belong
on my body
in the first place.

-k.w//cleanse

i keep thinking about the way
your fingers don't leave bruises on
my hips the way they used do

when did you stop trying to hold
on so tight? when did you stop
trying?