I.
I can feel the crush of her blueberry eyes
in the grip of your skin.
She stains
the sheets between our twister games,
that scuffle in your bed at night.
and I just can’t wash out
the echoes that she's left in your eyes
where I have turned
invisible.
This is my goodbye.
II.
You once said, in the heat of your embrace,
that you wanted to hold me close
because I spoke like things
had more meaning than they really did.
But I am not written in braille,
you do not have to touch me to
know me.
III.
I cannot recall the day when I transformed from
your golden chrysanthemum to
the torn-up library book
that you gave and took back
as you pleased.
IV.
I hate the way you kiss
because your lips leave sticky-note
reminders
of the last people you left behind. I fear
my fate will be the same.
V.
The movement of your hips
rippling like waves between my sands
is
overwhelming. Just
stop.
VI.
I will never trust you.
VII.
I feel like a flower.
Standing silent against the heavy rain.
Releasing all my wearied petals in
the coming storm.
This is goodbye.
November 25, 2013 1:09 PM
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
I.
I can feel the crush of her blueberry eyes
in the grip of your skin.
She stains
the sheets between our twister games,
that scuffle in your bed at night.
and I just can’t wash out
the echoes that she's left in your eyes
where I have turned
invisible.
This is my goodbye.
II.
You once said, in the heat of your embrace,
that you wanted to hold me close
because I spoke like things
had more meaning than they really did.
But I am not written in braille,
you do not have to touch me to
know me.
III.
I cannot recall the day when I transformed from
your golden chrysanthemum to
the torn-up library book
that you gave and took back
as you pleased.
IV.
I hate the way you kiss
because your lips leave sticky-note
reminders
of the last people you left behind. I fear
my fate will be the same.
V.
The movement of your hips
rippling like waves between my sands
is
overwhelming. Just
stop.
VI.
I will never trust you.
VII.
I feel like a flower.
Standing silent against the heavy rain.
Releasing all my wearied petals in
the coming storm.
This is goodbye.
November 25, 2013 1:09 PM
