How does it feel to never give
anything a chance, like maybe
your skeletons will melt down the drainpipe and gather mold at the bottom somewhere,
like maybe my molecules are collecting
dust as I speak and my old skin cells are worth more
than their weight in new growth?
How does it feel to live in
half-starts, like the smoke has already left your lungs hollow
and clear before having a chance to settle?
Maybe I keep too much under my skin nowadays, but then again you never felt
that heavy
and I made sure to never
leave you hanging.
Braid knots out of the remainders
of sinew I line my bones with,
I wish you were the self deprecation I inhale
I wish you'd line my lungs black with your
sticky bittersweet and
sweaty salty half drunk promises
I wish you'd pour yourself out into
my hollow chest and we'd dim the lights because
time is slower after dark and you
always tell me I should take my time.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
How does it feel to never give
anything a chance, like maybe
your skeletons will melt down the drainpipe and gather mold at the bottom somewhere,
like maybe my molecules are collecting
dust as I speak and my old skin cells are worth more
than their weight in new growth?
How does it feel to live in
half-starts, like the smoke has already left your lungs hollow
and clear before having a chance to settle?
Maybe I keep too much under my skin nowadays, but then again you never felt
that heavy
and I made sure to never
leave you hanging.
Braid knots out of the remainders
of sinew I line my bones with,
I wish you were the self deprecation I inhale
I wish you'd line my lungs black with your
sticky bittersweet and
sweaty salty half drunk promises
I wish you'd pour yourself out into
my hollow chest and we'd dim the lights because
time is slower after dark and you
always tell me I should take my time.