Jan 2015
My bed has become too big for me.
And not in the sense where my limbs are dangling off the edges,
But in the sense that there shouldn't be just one person lying alone in the dark listening to the stories the walls are telling.
I've come to the point where my tears either burn on my skin like the razor blades you once turned me off of or I've not any left to shed
Because my soul has become as dry as the desert on account of bleeding out until I had no cells left to live for.
There is no more little bird fluttering it's wings to help me know I'm alive, its pulse has left with mine to go off to paradise and ive become a walking distaster-piece trying to find any amount of solace in being forsaken.
My bed beckons me to come back; to uncover it of whatever clean laundry I didn't feel strongly enough about to put in its proper place, to lay down in its arms again and stay a while..
But I no longer find comfort there.
See, my couch has only room for me just as my heart only had room for you, but now I've been left vacant like another apartment after the lease has expired.
I may as well wonder around with a sign reading 'Damaged heart for rent, contact Valerie at 1-800-MYFEELINGSDON'TMATTER' as advertisement.
I've clearly peaked your interest as some sort of toy long enough for you to continuously return and play with me.
So, go ahead and make an attempt at erasing the history we have between us, officially published or not it still exists and it still bestows significance within our lives.
In yours.
In mine.
You pick up your phone, your hand trembling as your fingertips carress the numbers designed to reach me and me especially.
Go ahead and make love to me one day and then later treat it like a one night stand because I don't have emotions and God FORBID I would call you out on the way you kissed me goodbye that night and didn't talk to me for days following.
You carefully reach towards the green call button to make the engagement more realistic.
Go ahead and abandon me like everyone else, I don't expect you to need me when I don't even need myself.
"I'm sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error please check the number and try again."
1-800-MYFEELINGSDON'TMATTER
I'm going back to bed.
And not in the sense where my limbs are dangling off the edges,
But in the sense that there shouldn't be just one person lying alone in the dark listening to the stories the walls are telling.
I've come to the point where my tears either burn on my skin like the razor blades you once turned me off of or I've not any left to shed
Because my soul has become as dry as the desert on account of bleeding out until I had no cells left to live for.
There is no more little bird fluttering it's wings to help me know I'm alive, its pulse has left with mine to go off to paradise and ive become a walking distaster-piece trying to find any amount of solace in being forsaken.
My bed beckons me to come back; to uncover it of whatever clean laundry I didn't feel strongly enough about to put in its proper place, to lay down in its arms again and stay a while..
But I no longer find comfort there.
See, my couch has only room for me just as my heart only had room for you, but now I've been left vacant like another apartment after the lease has expired.
I may as well wonder around with a sign reading 'Damaged heart for rent, contact Valerie at 1-800-MYFEELINGSDON'TMATTER' as advertisement.
I've clearly peaked your interest as some sort of toy long enough for you to continuously return and play with me.
So, go ahead and make an attempt at erasing the history we have between us, officially published or not it still exists and it still bestows significance within our lives.
In yours.
In mine.
You pick up your phone, your hand trembling as your fingertips carress the numbers designed to reach me and me especially.
Go ahead and make love to me one day and then later treat it like a one night stand because I don't have emotions and God FORBID I would call you out on the way you kissed me goodbye that night and didn't talk to me for days following.
You carefully reach towards the green call button to make the engagement more realistic.
Go ahead and abandon me like everyone else, I don't expect you to need me when I don't even need myself.
"I'm sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error please check the number and try again."
1-800-MYFEELINGSDON'TMATTER
I'm going back to bed.
