by the time i’ve woken up,
with my wooly socks pressed underneath blankets,
you’re already gone.
i don’t believe in myself
when the people i love leave cause they can’t contend with my
dagger defenses
and my ugly weapons.
i wish so, i wasn’t so dangerous with the ones
who give me a warm bed to sleep on
a warm mug of tea,
soft little socks so my feet don’t freeze
and they call me the things i want to hear
but not because i forced it out of their mouths,
but because they really want to.

and by the time you leave, i’ve already understood why you had to exit the house,
pack all your belongings into your flimsy *******,
and escape from the scene.
i’ve already made sense of your decision and the vicious cycle i let you tumble through;
it’s not fair.
the way i keep you a distance you wish was much closer,
or how i convince myself that this could conclude with no closure.
your lungs cannot bear my unhealthy air.
the room is all dusty,
filled corners with my despair.
i’m laying here still,
as still as one can when they’re losing their mind.

and by the time i’ve woken up, you’re already gone without a trace
and i will not chase you;
i can’t.
i’ll lay here in waist deep shame.

When you say goodbye,
you don't mean it.
You mean "I'll see you later."
"Talk soon."
"I'll miss you."

When I say goodbye,
I'm gone.

And you can be sure
I'm never coming back.

Stop leaving hints.
I get them;
I just don't reply anymore.

I guess it's because you claim everything
in that last message you sent
was a lie.

If that's true,
it means you won't always
be there if I need you,
and that I was never as important to you
as you said I was.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, please
stop leaving the little hints.
Show me that you've moved on.
Prove to me that I never cross your mind
anymore,
that you're completely over me.

Just get out of my life.

For pushing me away
Cause I found someone who’s prepared to stay

misery finds me
   the common bird

perched upon
   branches of autumn

waiting over me
   such an old friend

hidden herein
   casket of heavy air

how i wish to embrace
her edges

with what little is left
of me

that wants to stay
awake


@writeweird

Took the snap,
looking back at Caiguna,
From Balladonia.

Good onya, seeya some day.

She had a funny way, of sweeping,
in time with Merle Haggard,
on the radio.

Dam'lucky, me.