your smile sunk its teeth into my brain
and I can’t get them out
I think about you in that way all the time,
as hard, little pieces of the bigger picture,
embedded in different parts of my memory
that appear when they please
I feel your arms around me before sleep hits me
I see your smile when you tell me good news
I hear your aching heart beating when you’re upset
these are the things embedded in my brain like teeth
the smile you buried in my memories
I’m ******* terrified
every piece of you I find in my life is just a small remnant of you
but every piece of you embedded in my skin, my hair, my personality
leaves a hole when you take it away
you’re quickly replacing my framework,
filling my bones with your mannerisms and laughter and niceties
and breathing life into me so that just that smile can warm every inch of me
but what happens when you’re gone?
what happens when your laughter leaves and bitterness breaks in and rips holes in the whole person you made me?
when sorrow pours into the gaps, do I suddenly sink and drown under its weight?
does it attack what’s left of me?
do I crumble until I am two inches tall, the person I was before you built me up?
there are pieces of you embedded in my memories that will leave holes when they’re gone
I try not to think of all the ways I will try and fail to replace them
even stitches leave scars
I am ******* terrified
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
your smile sunk its teeth into my brain
and I can’t get them out
I think about you in that way all the time,
as hard, little pieces of the bigger picture,
embedded in different parts of my memory
that appear when they please
I feel your arms around me before sleep hits me
I see your smile when you tell me good news
I hear your aching heart beating when you’re upset
these are the things embedded in my brain like teeth
the smile you buried in my memories
I’m ******* terrified
every piece of you I find in my life is just a small remnant of you
but every piece of you embedded in my skin, my hair, my personality
leaves a hole when you take it away
you’re quickly replacing my framework,
filling my bones with your mannerisms and laughter and niceties
and breathing life into me so that just that smile can warm every inch of me
but what happens when you’re gone?
what happens when your laughter leaves and bitterness breaks in and rips holes in the whole person you made me?
when sorrow pours into the gaps, do I suddenly sink and drown under its weight?
does it attack what’s left of me?
do I crumble until I am two inches tall, the person I was before you built me up?
there are pieces of you embedded in my memories that will leave holes when they’re gone
I try not to think of all the ways I will try and fail to replace them
even stitches leave scars
I am ******* terrified
