I learned a whole new language
so I could whisper
***** things in your ear.

Je te veux.
and I still do.

Oh, so you think you can fill this hole with something that feels like music? Something that sounds warm?

Cold bodies don’t ******* feel warm. At the end of the night, your temporary song is over. You’re alone.

In the quietest, coldest room with nothing to keep you warm, but that **** CD he gave you, on your birthday.

It doesn’t get better.

It gets worse before it gets anything like better.

Rest your head
in between the legs that fed you
when you were hungry
Let me be your home

I know that he's hungry
for the missing crumbs
that had fallen from your lips
when you had tried to
c o n s u m e
me.
But what do I have left?
Just an empty cracked dish
from your mother's china cabinet.

soft pink
daisy yellow
sky blue
lillypad green
cloud white

pills

my life
his life

filled with beautiful pastels
we even see them in our nightmares

conversations on the couch
have never felt the same
since you left me that day
we spent countless hours
talking
smoking
drinking
on that little beaten up couch
almost as frail and torn as our souls were
laughing and kissing for hours
burning ourselves with cigarettes
so we would have these memories forever
it seems so ****** up, but so are we
and i wouldn't have it any other way
i wish we could go back to those two weeks
not giving a **** what we put into our bodies
only focused on the now
never worried about what was to come
i miss you and i miss that small, broken couch
and those endless nights where everything made sense