Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
stas Jan 2015
A part of you will always be hidden inside of the parts of me I can't help but hide and a part of me will always be hidden in the dark circles under your eyes, think of me next time you can't sleep at night.

A part of you will always be under my nails, from trying too hard to hold onto you for too long, a part of me will always be in the knots of your stomach, when you are nervous and your insides are overlapping, think of me.

A part of you will always be on my tongue, I've brushed my teeth until my gums bled but I can still taste you. A part of me will always be in the spot on your neck, next time she kisses it, think of me.

A part of you will always be hidden in the way I tap my leg when I can't think straight, because maybe if I tap enough, you will rewrite yourself into someone else's mind but that isn't the case and a part of me will always be in your knees, the ones that I can still make weak but you still have the nerve to say you don't want me.
stas Jan 2015
...
you spoke softly, but your words still broke me.
stas Dec 2014
I've tried rewriting him like he is another poem
embedded between pages of secrets
replacing his eyes with sparkling adjectives
polishing his edges
enabling him to roll off my tongue like I imagined he would
I've traded his scars for words laced in silver
like beautiful words would stop the bleeding
but broken men are not poems
they are not to be sculpted into stanzas
they are time bombs
with three seconds left on the clock
they posses oceans inside their lungs
their eyes are riptides
you cannot rewrite the parts of him
to coincide with the parts of you
they may be broken
their hearts turning black and blue
but the solution to their problem does not begin with you
you can stretch your hands as big as they will go
but it will never be enough to catch their pain
you will drown trying to keep them afloat
the solution to their problem does not begin with you
It will never begin with you
stas Oct 2014
You fell in love with my negative space, the parts of me that I couldn't stand to see, but when your hand reached between my thighs, I said okay.

You told me you liked my smile, but only when I was unbuttoning my shirt, but when you asked if I wanted this, I said okay.

You promised me we would be okay, that all my fears would go away, when you told my to lie down and close my eyes, I said okay.

If this is what love is, I'm not okay.

— The End —