Sep 2015
I want to touch you,
under my red lights,
it used to be because I loved you,
and now it’s because I can't heal without you.
I’m trying to touch you,
but it’s more like grasping for oxygen,
trying to swing at something that isn’t there.
And I’m here writing to you,
4 months later on my bathroom floor,
4:54 AM on your birthday,
and I’m still throwing up when I see you.
Screaming your name into pillows,
but not like the way I did in February.
I feel like I swallow razors when I catch sight of you,
happy, unbothered, holding on to someone you cheated to get,
who do you think you are?
leaving me for nothing,
pretending to be happy,
giving someone else my world,
my love,
my kisses,
but no one really knows what went down between us,
the same way they didn’t understand our love.
And I’m fine with that…
but not really.
I’ve tried drinking wine but the truth is you’re my whiskey,
and though they make me feel mature and elegant,
they’ll never taste like you.
But even you have gotten a bitter taste in my mouth,
when before you just tasted like honey.
Their hands feel different,
their kisses awful,
I feel guilty every time someone holds me,
like I still belong to you and you’d be upset.
But truth is you’re being held right now,
by someone who doesn’t know how to hold you right,
and you’re trying to bend and shape yourself to make everything fit,
to try and feel perfect in her,
when you know she doesn’t have the same feel,
she doesn’t go down your throat as smoothly as I did,
so you make up your face and turn your head,
but I caught a glance and I know how it feels.
I won’t stay caught up for much longer,
I’m just waiting for my psychiatrist to take me off this new round,
because it makes me see you.
It makes me crave you.
It makes me miss you.
I’m just waiting for the anxiety to end,
so I can stop following behind you.
Because while I’m not your ghost anymore,
I’m still your shadow.
Because now I have to pretend like I want to be friends,
when I’m just trying to stop the apprehension when you walk past me,
Like that’s all I am to you.
Your past.
-g.e.s.
under my red lights,
it used to be because I loved you,
and now it’s because I can't heal without you.
I’m trying to touch you,
but it’s more like grasping for oxygen,
trying to swing at something that isn’t there.
And I’m here writing to you,
4 months later on my bathroom floor,
4:54 AM on your birthday,
and I’m still throwing up when I see you.
Screaming your name into pillows,
but not like the way I did in February.
I feel like I swallow razors when I catch sight of you,
happy, unbothered, holding on to someone you cheated to get,
who do you think you are?
leaving me for nothing,
pretending to be happy,
giving someone else my world,
my love,
my kisses,
but no one really knows what went down between us,
the same way they didn’t understand our love.
And I’m fine with that…
but not really.
I’ve tried drinking wine but the truth is you’re my whiskey,
and though they make me feel mature and elegant,
they’ll never taste like you.
But even you have gotten a bitter taste in my mouth,
when before you just tasted like honey.
Their hands feel different,
their kisses awful,
I feel guilty every time someone holds me,
like I still belong to you and you’d be upset.
But truth is you’re being held right now,
by someone who doesn’t know how to hold you right,
and you’re trying to bend and shape yourself to make everything fit,
to try and feel perfect in her,
when you know she doesn’t have the same feel,
she doesn’t go down your throat as smoothly as I did,
so you make up your face and turn your head,
but I caught a glance and I know how it feels.
I won’t stay caught up for much longer,
I’m just waiting for my psychiatrist to take me off this new round,
because it makes me see you.
It makes me crave you.
It makes me miss you.
I’m just waiting for the anxiety to end,
so I can stop following behind you.
Because while I’m not your ghost anymore,
I’m still your shadow.
Because now I have to pretend like I want to be friends,
when I’m just trying to stop the apprehension when you walk past me,
Like that’s all I am to you.
Your past.
-g.e.s.
this is a terrible day for me but I hope your birthday is amazing, even if you celebrate it with her, without me, whatever.
