Jun 2014
You were my counter melody written in a completely different key, but I think it's possible to make music out of notes that don't go together. We rubbed each other in all the wrong ways, but you will always be the only thing that could pull on my heart strings.
**** me in the backseat of your car like everything else that slips your mind or has no place in your bedroom. I am a figment of your misshapen imagination, and I have no complaints about being the one thing you aren't gentle with.
Send prayers in the form of taxi cabs; I hope you have no clue where you want them to go.
Childlike honesty doesn't get more candid. A little girl once told me I looked like a broken mirror, I hoped she didn't know about the one on my bathroom floor contrasted against the brightness of the contents of my wrists.
I hope when they finally find all the Wonders of the world, you're all of them. The missing books of the Bible are the diary pages you wrote in seventh grade about a girl who isn't me.
I hope when they cut me open they find mislabeled poetry, and whatever else I have written onto my rib cage.
I miss you like a burn victim misses the feeling of their own skin.
I am to you as a bible is to verses, and I hope that makes less sense than I meant it to.
My lungs are an empty room that echoes things that I haven't said yet.
My body is a temple but I'm not sure which god we worship. I'd rather be forsaken by the veins in my own arms than by hands that have never been held. I can't tell you how many sermons I've dedicated to you but somehow the pews are always filled with the sound of your voice. I swear you are my hallelujah.
I am studying horticulture so I can compare the way tulips bloom to the way your chest rises and falls in the mornings. I want to be in every single chamber of your heart.
I'm convinced that they invented lighthouses so when you went searching for the place where the sunset meets the ocean, you can find your way back to me.
If anything I say is untrue, then just pretend I swallowed dreams that were made of everything you've ever said to me.
**** me in the backseat of your car like everything else that slips your mind or has no place in your bedroom. I am a figment of your misshapen imagination, and I have no complaints about being the one thing you aren't gentle with.
Send prayers in the form of taxi cabs; I hope you have no clue where you want them to go.
Childlike honesty doesn't get more candid. A little girl once told me I looked like a broken mirror, I hoped she didn't know about the one on my bathroom floor contrasted against the brightness of the contents of my wrists.
I hope when they finally find all the Wonders of the world, you're all of them. The missing books of the Bible are the diary pages you wrote in seventh grade about a girl who isn't me.
I hope when they cut me open they find mislabeled poetry, and whatever else I have written onto my rib cage.
I miss you like a burn victim misses the feeling of their own skin.
I am to you as a bible is to verses, and I hope that makes less sense than I meant it to.
My lungs are an empty room that echoes things that I haven't said yet.
My body is a temple but I'm not sure which god we worship. I'd rather be forsaken by the veins in my own arms than by hands that have never been held. I can't tell you how many sermons I've dedicated to you but somehow the pews are always filled with the sound of your voice. I swear you are my hallelujah.
I am studying horticulture so I can compare the way tulips bloom to the way your chest rises and falls in the mornings. I want to be in every single chamber of your heart.
I'm convinced that they invented lighthouses so when you went searching for the place where the sunset meets the ocean, you can find your way back to me.
If anything I say is untrue, then just pretend I swallowed dreams that were made of everything you've ever said to me.
