When the sun ultimately bleeds from its circumference,
We will burn
i'm drunk since you left
I have kissed boys
People in between
But lately I have been kissing bottles
Their lips are colder than yours
But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest
Yet as these toxins rush through my veins
I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin
Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me
But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin
Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know
I made a mistake
I meant to be perfect
But I colored outside the lines
I crossed the line
That meant to keep the lines inside
Because I'm not supposed to do it
I stopped writing
Because I found that when I write
It’s so real.
It’s like hearing back my own words from the lips of someone wiser
Not from a broken child,
But from a bitter miser.
I am awake always
Painfully aware. I can’t sleep and I can’t quiet the noise in my head.
Because stones do not pray, even in their centuries’ quiet,
Because the vines are long, only for the sake of length,
Not like the drab Orpheus-song that always up-ruins.
Because vestal Autumn is a bride of noon-time rain,
A faithful stream with her white mist of suffibulum,
Beside the path whose footprints are half-notes from the grave.
Suffibulum is the white veil of the vestal ******.
You were in my dream last night
Every word I write
Of words you sighed
Into my skin.
I give myself
Mirror pep talks
To explain away
The way you stopped
and looked at me with words caught in your throat
Under the dimming bulbs of my parent’s porch
And I wish I could forget
Gentle as a sunset,
Your breath skimming my hands that night
Staining my skin under
And I can’t tell if I’m hurting right...
the things you love,
can exhaust you too.