I've stopped writing
about love
about how soft it feels
on my fingertips
how its scent lingers
on the tip of my tongue
as I slowly choke to
death
I still yearn
for the blankets to engulf
my body
like how your chest
used to be my safest place
But now it pains me
to reminisce over your
long lashes that align
with your stare,
that was meant for
someone else
to close my eyes and feel
your lips brush against
my tears
as the vacancy within you
tries to fill the vacancy within me
I've forgotten what love
truly tastes like
All I know is sometimes
I have to be wary of how good
it can be
Because no matter how much
you pour yourself into the jar
it will always spill
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
I've stopped writing
about love
about how soft it feels
on my fingertips
how its scent lingers
on the tip of my tongue
as I slowly choke to
death
I still yearn
for the blankets to engulf
my body
like how your chest
used to be my safest place
But now it pains me
to reminisce over your
long lashes that align
with your stare,
that was meant for
someone else
to close my eyes and feel
your lips brush against
my tears
as the vacancy within you
tries to fill the vacancy within me
I've forgotten what love
truly tastes like
All I know is sometimes
I have to be wary of how good
it can be
Because no matter how much
you pour yourself into the jar
it will always spill
Thanks/thank you.
