It's amazing,
the way I was drawn to him
because he looked
like summer at a time
I craved only the hollowness
of winter.
It's amazing
that his love
compensated for my
self hate,
and that he was able to make me forget
who I was.
The simplicity in
holding hands captivated me and
I forgot that I was addicted to speed. Everything about the way
he let me love him was slow and innocent.
He fixed me.
He sewed up my
spine, expanded my
stomach,
and thawed my
lungs with his
warm breath.
The scars faded,
but it was amazingly easy
for him to change his mind: rip out the stitches
leaving them to
bleed, open to
infection,
and wanting
anything that could stop
the pain.
****** in the back seat
of some guy's car,
lines off an unknown
man's kitchen counter,
smoke in my
parents house
with the window
open so I could
pretend they didn't know,
cuts
up my legs.
Anything
to forget that someone could be
so
**** cruel,
anything to forget that someone could be
so
happy. Lost
in the tears that run
with the water
in the shower
twice a day, lost
in my mind that cannot
escape
itself
no matter how
intoxicated...
No matter how
exhausted, was my sanity. Everything has
escaped,
he still looks like summer,
I finally found the hollowness
of winter.
It's amazing how
it happened:
it started; it ended.
Eventually,
one of us will die
And
the other will regret that it didn't
last.
It will be amazing
the way one of us
feels again in those first few moments
after the other is
gone. If
I last, will i watch the
flashes
of our lives and
feel again
the ignorant perfection of our
love or the
pain of removing the
stitches?