i should have known that when your hands crept around me and i did not pull away
i should have known when the particles in my neck yearned to have your fingerprints tattooed upon them
that you could not possibly wash over me as anything more than acid
for my eyes have always sought out people that have cliffs inside of them and empty auditoriums echoing full of a thousand empty ***** and a habit of leaving things void
objects in the mirror are more broken than they appear and the car wreck that is the mess of my heart burns white hot
in the aftermath of the inferno that was our time together
i was left blinded by the sight of a closed door and the sound of the lock clicking behind you
robbed me of my hearing and i wish for once i could have a love that did not leave
i wish i didn’t caress the mouths of broken bottles i find on the beach like i was looking for a pair of lips i could put a name to
and kiss the lips of glasses
filled with whiskey and regret
before letting a man’s breath pour over me like liquid courage
and yeah, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,
so is it really a surprise that my attempts to get over my ex lover depression and my
drunken **** suicide and my friends with benefits anxiety are usually a direct route to a city
whose bulbs are not broken and whose skyscrapers will hold me tight enough to squeeze out the insanity
if only for a night
because the only times i can forget my ex lovers face is when i’m gazing into the bottomless eyes of a bottle
and the only time my hands stop squeezing my own throat is when someone holds them tightly enough that i cannot break away so i may break
the only times my old friends with benefits does not knock on my door with a shaking hand
and clanking knees is when someone else is already inside