Now we've faded away
Into yesterday's
Fairytales.
But I know the reality
You'll be just fine without me.
While I spend my days getting
Wasted.

Warm evenings bring a slow haze of conversation.
The moon, rolling on the waves,
has pulled the tide right back to the horizon
Exposing wet flatlands of sand and a rocky skeleton
That crawls in the darkness, like figures on the beach below.
Rosé wine and boredom
Keeps me checking my phone for you to tell me you've arrived.

I didn't really drink
Not until you
Until the vacancy of a life I'll never know appeared

I chase the sunset drenched in tequila
Hoping maybe I can wake up and you never existed
And I never made any choices

I gave you away to freedom
I gave you absolutely no pain
At least you'll never grow up and hate me

I'll wonder if you would have loved the dogs
If any of them would have claimed you as theirs
If you would have looked like me or him
If you would have liked ******-Doo as much as I did

But I don't regret
And I don't often dwell
On you and the person you could have been
Or who I would have became

Watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Trying to remember what the peace of actual sleep felt like. Counting the seconds between each inhale sounds like small prayer, a scream of please please please don't leave. She's lost weight again and you're doing your best to not panic about it, hoping that by not acknowledging the way death hangs around her shoulders he will spare her, spare you the pain of loss.

Its been two weeks since your ex promised to call you, and you're pretending that all the hope you had doesn't lay at the feet of a silent phone line. There is so much you want to tell her, things you can barely choke out to yourself, like the fact that you are still in love with her, that you're positive if it were anyone, she was the one. The only one who ever made your heart flutter like that, the only person who would understand how terrified you are of being permanently alone.

For now you lay on the cold floor, trying not to let two years of the one who got away strangle you, sipping warm wine and thinking that this was how it smelled the first and last time you trusted someone to touch your bare skin without flinching. You're watching this body on your bed taking shallow breaths, crying because you know that soon enough you will be alone again and she's never coming back.

he chose alcohol and told me to go home
he slammed my body and told me to go home with my broken bones
he threw me out onto the mat and told me to go home
his eyes were bloodshot red and he had saliva dripping from his lips
yet he told me to go home as i begged and pleaded at the door
love was not strong enough when it is faced with a drug
he went to bed with his drug and told me to go home

Let me sleep
Let me eat
Let me forget
The taste of you and the smell of alcohol on us both

Let me shower again
Let my dreams not be filled with you
Let the “harmless” teasing stop
Because everyone believes its harmless but I really can't get you out of my head

Let my thoughts be free
Let me feel okay again
Let my skin feel like mine
Without the ghost of your hands all over it

It was nice
It was not supposed to happen
Let it go away
Let me move on
Let it be okay to keep talking to you
Without it seeming awkward or wrong

Let It Be....

Remember the days
When beers and warm nights were enough
Where I carried my shoes on the walk home
And I lied to a good man
By letting him think
No one else had been in my bed
The night before him

Three years later it’s easy to see
The memory play out like it’s on TV
I told myself then that it’s not a lie
We just weren’t talking about it
I told myself I have no loyalties

I guess I was right

It was August and the air in the attic where I lived
Just felt like summer – moist, suffocating
Hard to sleep in – painful to wake up
Strange smells clung to my sheets
Deep purple – My mother bought them

I ate breakfast with him
He paid – a gentleman
Even on nights when I was
too drunk
too tired
too uninterested
To let him touch me

In the back of my mind … somewhere …
I worried about when he’d ask me
To be his girlfriend
I worried about when I would have
To make it unofficial

But in the thick humidity of that summer
Our apathy was enough to keep the parties going all night

And every morning when the sun blared through
My tiny, attic window, waking me
And drying on the sweat that reeked of Budweiser
Reminding me subtly – that it might time
To grow the **** up
To have the tough talk
To learn the art of saying no

I made plans for later that night

it's a fine tuesday afternoon,
and you sit inside locked within your room
the sun burns and the voices hurt,
though you are craving human touch
yet the only things touching your skin is this bottle of wine and your cigarettes to your lips