I look up at the tired wood ceiling,
because i can't get your face out of my head
You stick to me like stubborn paint
and grip my skin with barbed wire teeth
Sharp snow comes down like hammers in my chest
icicles get stuck to the raw skin of my throat
Cold tears push their way through
my eyes hurt from trying to hold them in for so long
they cling to my lashes for dear life
until their fingers break like china dolls
Only then they flow,
impatient rain drops falling from tree tops
Echoes from howling heart grind against my ear drums
rose tears float along satin veins
The acid in your foot steps makes my exposed skin tremble,
every time you and her walk down the roads of my mind
My stomach turns violent to think of her sleeping next to you
that you roll over and watch her dream
that she gets to hear your tired mumbling
and have your scent cling to all of her clothes
I cringe when i think shes wearing your favorite sweatpants
and that she makes you laugh more than i did
I want to stomp on the butterflies she gives you in your stomach
or catch them, **** them, and wear them as a trophy
it hurts me to know I'm just a piece of your past
I'm part of the puzzle that got lost under the sofa
something stale and forgotten
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
I look up at the tired wood ceiling,
because i can't get your face out of my head
You stick to me like stubborn paint
and grip my skin with barbed wire teeth
Sharp snow comes down like hammers in my chest
icicles get stuck to the raw skin of my throat
Cold tears push their way through
my eyes hurt from trying to hold them in for so long
they cling to my lashes for dear life
until their fingers break like china dolls
Only then they flow,
impatient rain drops falling from tree tops
Echoes from howling heart grind against my ear drums
rose tears float along satin veins
The acid in your foot steps makes my exposed skin tremble,
every time you and her walk down the roads of my mind
My stomach turns violent to think of her sleeping next to you
that you roll over and watch her dream
that she gets to hear your tired mumbling
and have your scent cling to all of her clothes
I cringe when i think shes wearing your favorite sweatpants
and that she makes you laugh more than i did
I want to stomp on the butterflies she gives you in your stomach
or catch them, **** them, and wear them as a trophy
it hurts me to know I'm just a piece of your past
I'm part of the puzzle that got lost under the sofa
something stale and forgotten
break ups ****
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