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antiquated

the reporters kept going on and on

about how shocked they were that

the cold had come after the hottest

summer on record- didn't they

know that nothing lasts forever?

 

i refused to put shoes on, which

didn't matter much since i wasn't

making it out of bed most days

 

saving you was ruining me, and

then like magic- **** you were

gone, but the smell of your decay

stuck to my skin like the smell

of your american spirits

 

i drew out the demons slowly,

agonizing over each lost smoke-

wanting to really feel the

**** i scraped off of my insides

 

i kept picturing you, shaking

because your body couldn't live

without 7&7's - christ, who had

you become? still, your eyes were

the same, but the look you gave

me had changed, and maybe my

eyes told a different story now too

 

i sang sad songs to the mountains

as the sun went to sleep, tears

came one at a time, but the silence

was deafening

 

time spent staring at nothing as

i traveled elsewhere in memories,

whether they were real or dreams

i still can't be sure

 

i looked back at myself and read,

"i remember when i was lost and

confused." how ironic and presumptuous

i had been, how little i had understood

about life, about how change happens-

through acute, exhausting, and

harrowing pain

 

i thought that i could give away pieces

of myself and still remain living,

but scooping your soul out

is so much easier than filling it

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Written by
quinn
American
Published
Jun 11, 2016
Lines·Words
43·256
Permission

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