(yesterday)
there was a hollow in my bed,
shaped like you and
all the stories you used to tell.
i don’t know if
you were happy but
i think i was, then.
(today)
all that’s left is shards of glass and
promises whispered over the
blade of a knife and
the heat of your skin is
imprinted on mine
(tomorrow)
i’ll take out the trash and
strew the pieces of what i
have left and
blow delicate flowers of
lost dreams and cold ashes
(after?)
it’s supposed to hurt
i guess (i know)
and the punch line of
this joke is
[ silence ]
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
(yesterday)
there was a hollow in my bed,
shaped like you and
all the stories you used to tell.
i don’t know if
you were happy but
i think i was, then.
(today)
all that’s left is shards of glass and
promises whispered over the
blade of a knife and
the heat of your skin is
imprinted on mine
(tomorrow)
i’ll take out the trash and
strew the pieces of what i
have left and
blow delicate flowers of
lost dreams and cold ashes
(after?)
it’s supposed to hurt
i guess (i know)
and the punch line of
this joke is
[ silence ]
