Loneliness was never an emotion for me. It was more of... a state of being. Family was always a disappointment, friends were none existent, and what’s a stranger gonna do? I never lived in a life where I felt anything besides lonely that is... until I met you. You were a rose that couldn’t see the beauty of it’s petals, I guess we were alike in that since, because in your eyes I was the perfect women, where in my eyes I was a waste of space. We spent days, weeks, even months together. I grew to love you and you? You learned that two people could be lonely together. But as my life shows, everything is temporary. And the words “I love you” where just a distant memory.
I can't walk in flowered printed heels I've watched you study yourself in the mirror steady neck leading down to gentle shoulders and halcyon hands sour ideas filling my brain I'm imagining my hands sweetening your concerned soft-muscled legs into certainty bronze-brown strands of curly hair on dark grey seats I sense dancing trees behind me and savor the beautiful bitterness of abyssal secrets on my saccharine tongue your collar bones are silken and veiled with Taurus-led misunderstandings. mine are always veiled with uncertainty and sporadically veiled with you
She wrote her poems along his walls Painted pristine flowers With infinite stokes of pink In hopes it would show the way she thinks Black and blue Across the mirrors She left him haikus She made shelter from his heartless soul Planted roses in his throat She watched her garden grow Pesticides inside his tongue Always at the mercy of his words But retracting from his fingertips Came the thorns she didn't cut Writing lost its touch She screamed out her last extract Copy written from her heart Bleeding all alone She wrote her poems along his walls To give reason For burning down his home