“show me how you’re different,” she screamed
from her trembling lips underneath the starlit ceiling.
and then she whispered to me, afraid of the angels
hearing her, “show me that you’re the artist who paints
pictures with the backs of his eyelids. tell me that you have
paint transfused in your blood and every time you
cut your veins, you’re really at work and you’re showing the world something
beautiful.” i promised you that the walls of my heart were
lined with red laced bones and they resembled the birth of
balloons when air is pumped into them. my promises
are about the only thing i can guarantee that won’t shatter like
your heart. “tell me that tonight will never end and tomorrow we’ll
wake up as if the sun never rose again. promise me that
you’ll remember this exact moment,” i heard her say as i slipped
into my own world.
i remember the way you bit your lips after they glistened from
the five stars you grabbed from the sky. i still smell that mix of
perfume and lust as if my own father told me about this
during my bedtime stories as a child. my arms are still imprinted
from where you placed your own as if i was allergic to your
skin and i couldn’t care less for what i was doing. i painted my
walls with the color of your eyes and memorized your breathing
pattern so that one day, maybe i can find an easiness in
the art of breathing. “goodnight,” she whispered through my ears.
goodnight, angel of the night; your wings have grown but please,
don’t fly away.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
“show me how you’re different,” she screamed
from her trembling lips underneath the starlit ceiling.
and then she whispered to me, afraid of the angels
hearing her, “show me that you’re the artist who paints
pictures with the backs of his eyelids. tell me that you have
paint transfused in your blood and every time you
cut your veins, you’re really at work and you’re showing the world something
beautiful.” i promised you that the walls of my heart were
lined with red laced bones and they resembled the birth of
balloons when air is pumped into them. my promises
are about the only thing i can guarantee that won’t shatter like
your heart. “tell me that tonight will never end and tomorrow we’ll
wake up as if the sun never rose again. promise me that
you’ll remember this exact moment,” i heard her say as i slipped
into my own world.
i remember the way you bit your lips after they glistened from
the five stars you grabbed from the sky. i still smell that mix of
perfume and lust as if my own father told me about this
during my bedtime stories as a child. my arms are still imprinted
from where you placed your own as if i was allergic to your
skin and i couldn’t care less for what i was doing. i painted my
walls with the color of your eyes and memorized your breathing
pattern so that one day, maybe i can find an easiness in
the art of breathing. “goodnight,” she whispered through my ears.
goodnight, angel of the night; your wings have grown but please,
don’t fly away.
this was my pride and joy at one point in my life. i thought i loved you.
