Oct 2015
I refuse to tell anyone about the dreams where I am reading bedtime stories to you, where each is a different way you die and every way I will never save you.
I don't think twice of letting anybody know that drinking Clorox could potentially **** the what once were butterflies inside of you.
I won't tell anybody that my love for you is like perfecting the stringing of the beautiful chords on a harp ( for someone who is [deaf. I [can't tell anybody that when you told the doctor you weren't sexually active, I couldn't stop thinking -"so my party favors meant nothing to you?" My body was like an instrument and your words were the very melody that tuned it, unfortunately your vocal chords were that {of Lucifer's. Maybe you loved the feeling of tying me to the coffee table and making home movies, then creating a party once the confetti burst from my eyes, I heard once you die that you watch your life replay but I found it hurts twice as bad the second time around, now that I think about it, I think my heart exploded into confetti as well and [maybe that's why is feel empty and there are no more butterflies, just year old rotting confetti. My ribs never really echoed until you came around, I don't think I had anybody take my breath away quite like you, you did it a tiny bit different from the others, you knocked the wind right out of me and used it as air to blow banners and silly string around for your pity party.
Do you remember when you told me how cliché my poetry was on my birthday? well I do not love you like the everlasting affair between the sea and the sand & I don't miss you how the Sun misses the Moon. For I fear you as if I were alive in Pompeii during 79 After Death, And my hate towards you is as strong as the believers during the time of Crucifixion and I am as devastated as when the families of Jews found bodies upon bodies unnamed in box cars.
>I remember the taste of your mouth and your cravings for cigarettes, I was your ashtray. I remember your passion for watercolor paintings, I am your cup of brown water. I remember your undenied addiction for sweetened coffee, I am the leftover stain on your teeth. I remember your love for street racing, -I am the skid marks left on the street.<
Maybe one day you'll think back to the girl that you said you loved, maybe you'll realize that she was not the burns marks in your brain from the bleach you drank to try and ruin the confetti that is now in [your] rib cage, maybe you'll pay more attention to abandoned buildings on the side of the street, now that you realize that's what you've made her become.
Maybe you'll remember which cabinet the chemicals were in and at the point maybe you'll realize that her dreams from your bed time stories came true.
I don't think twice of letting anybody know that drinking Clorox could potentially **** the what once were butterflies inside of you.
I won't tell anybody that my love for you is like perfecting the stringing of the beautiful chords on a harp ( for someone who is [deaf. I [can't tell anybody that when you told the doctor you weren't sexually active, I couldn't stop thinking -"so my party favors meant nothing to you?" My body was like an instrument and your words were the very melody that tuned it, unfortunately your vocal chords were that {of Lucifer's. Maybe you loved the feeling of tying me to the coffee table and making home movies, then creating a party once the confetti burst from my eyes, I heard once you die that you watch your life replay but I found it hurts twice as bad the second time around, now that I think about it, I think my heart exploded into confetti as well and [maybe that's why is feel empty and there are no more butterflies, just year old rotting confetti. My ribs never really echoed until you came around, I don't think I had anybody take my breath away quite like you, you did it a tiny bit different from the others, you knocked the wind right out of me and used it as air to blow banners and silly string around for your pity party.
Do you remember when you told me how cliché my poetry was on my birthday? well I do not love you like the everlasting affair between the sea and the sand & I don't miss you how the Sun misses the Moon. For I fear you as if I were alive in Pompeii during 79 After Death, And my hate towards you is as strong as the believers during the time of Crucifixion and I am as devastated as when the families of Jews found bodies upon bodies unnamed in box cars.
>I remember the taste of your mouth and your cravings for cigarettes, I was your ashtray. I remember your passion for watercolor paintings, I am your cup of brown water. I remember your undenied addiction for sweetened coffee, I am the leftover stain on your teeth. I remember your love for street racing, -I am the skid marks left on the street.<
Maybe one day you'll think back to the girl that you said you loved, maybe you'll realize that she was not the burns marks in your brain from the bleach you drank to try and ruin the confetti that is now in [your] rib cage, maybe you'll pay more attention to abandoned buildings on the side of the street, now that you realize that's what you've made her become.
Maybe you'll remember which cabinet the chemicals were in and at the point maybe you'll realize that her dreams from your bed time stories came true.
