it is midnight and
i am plagued by thoughts of you.
why won't you come home?
you are every midnight shot I should not have threw down my throat,
every syllable I should not have stammered out beneath
shy gazes and lowered eyelashes and chewed bottom lips.
you are every (in)coherent verse I could not keep
my shaky grip from messily scrawling across any blank page;
you are in every frustrated sigh,
every agitated run of fingers through messy hair,
every tear at 2am.
you were a whirlwind;
& I got dizzy trying to keep up.
but the dust (you stirred) has finally settled;
& you are nowhere to be seen.
bits of you thicken the air, leaving tears
to continue stinging in my eyes
I was unwilling and I am alone.
I guess you were never meant to stay.
you chase hurricanes,
when you can have the calm sea.
[ stay away from me ]
tell me again why the wind kissed the sea
remind me again why it wasn't the sky-
the sky's so pretty and perfect and calm,
but the choppy sea? please tell me why.
tell me again how the stars found the river;
there was no map written or drawn.
yet they drowned in her depths
leaving no stars left, and all I remember was the empty dawn.
tell me again which chapters she read
of the book he barely wrote-
what i don't get is how all these things
were said, when he never even spoke.
they s h o u t
and it feels like a million splinters
hit me in the chest, where it isn't
supposed to hurt.
they s t a r e
into thin air and the silence
is deafening and all I can
do is add to it.
they t a l k
but never to each other.
they're just like strangers;
two ghosts moving around
in one house.
they b r e a k
but I'm the only one broken, and
everyone smiles and tells me it's
just another fight.
they l i e*
and say that they're fine, and tell
me it's okay, and tell me it's stupid
that I don't believe that they love
it hurts more than they think.
I long to hear the constant
laughter in your voice, even
in bad times; because you
somehow knew all the right
times to smile, which
eventually caused the sun
to dull in comparison.
you could pluck the stars one-by-one from the sky, and they'd look like litter among your fingers.