the museum of my heart
has a blurry picture of his green eyes
the boy whose I name I never knew

there's a special exhibit
of all the bathrooms I had a breakdown in

there's polaroid pictures hanging
of all the friends I lost through the years
and all the friends who lost me

there's the poetry I wrote about them
words written in red ink and messy handwriting

there's statues of copper and tin
of all the lovers who couldn't love me

there's a constant humming of white noise and lo-fi
echoes of unspoken words I kept and ones I never heard

there's a selection of wingless butterflies
and a collection of blunt pencil sharpener blades

there's a basket of fortune cookies
and every single piece of paper carries the same aphorism:
"amidst the loneliness, the things you loved will forever haunt you."

there's old tv sets and a stack of DVD's
of all the films I wish I'd seen

there's all the skeletons I've hidden
secrets written on napkins and snuck between the wall cracks

there's a brand new guillotine and a golden noose
carefully kept for anyone who tries to hurt me

there's blackberry trees, an open ceiling
and dark splatters covering the ground beneath it

there's a chapel with empty seats and burned bible verses
rose petals and pink, lilac and blue candles
where an altar waits for a future love's mementos

there's a fountain of sweat, blood & tears

there's me standing in the corner
waiting to hand you your ticket and lure you in

there's angels and devils praying that you make it to the end of the tour

when you stop reading their horoscope
when the things you used to find charming
start making your stomach churn
when the butterflies turn into eye rolls
you know that it's over
you know that it's time to go

when the love that you give is bigger and brighter
than whatever it is that you get in return
when you realize that loving you is a lesson they'll never learn
when you run yourself dry
by watering a lover that will never grow
you know that it's over
you know that it's time to go

when you're more enemies than lovers
when you start sitting across from each other
when the kids become witnesses
of dinner table cold war battles
when those three words
turn into silent screams in the depths of your throat
you know that it's over
you know that it's time to go

like haunted steps on a newly built mansion
like all the traumas you never mention
like breathing through your mouth
like crying when the lights are out
like wishing you lived in a soundproof house

maybe one day I'll walk the way we walked together
hand in hand,
arm around neck
and my heart will ache
so I'll have to change my ways
do a detour so that I don't see you in that corner,
by that shop,
in that alley.
and I'll have to explain what's changed to whoever walks with me
but for now
I'll smile whenever I walk by that corner,
that shop,
that alley.
why should I think about tomorrow when today's been so deliciously sweet to me?