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Oct 2016
Your lies drip like honey from your lips and fall like acid on my skin. So I spend hours on end tossing your words around in my mouth, biting at their edges, ******* out meanings that weren't even there to begin with. And instead of food, I fill my empty stomach with memories of you:
Those eyes.
Those lips.
That voice.
Those fists.
I'm living like you are the only thing I need to survive, like empty promises could somehow fill these holes that you've left. Like I could eat my own heart out and still be home in time to cook your dinner.
Written by
Poetry At Most
     Sam, rose, ryn and ---
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