I would that if you increased
The spoken statements on your mind,
Would be you used this tone with me,
I'd "lop off your head," for better words
Suit me fine, defended by a suit of armor, one
For my own well-minded ears hearing safety,
An armor I deserve for being your king,
Your master, you are my throne even,
I sit on you when I'm sad, and spit on you
When I'm mad. This is it, there's nothing
More to say, you wash your mouth out now,
My "honest perfection" grows day by day.

What am I to do to fill this gap inbetween us. Maybe I'll fill it with the trash I have laying around my room, or in my soul. Maybe I'll fill it with a million hours of occupation, money, and material objects. Maybe another could fill it with their baggage and sadness, their big eyes with questions of doubt and love.
But no, don't you dare trust a thing I say, because I have not a clue what could possibly fill a hole the size of the universe.

She awoke that morning
saddened by her failure,
at the fact that air still moved
through her delicate lungs.
Alcohol lingered on her smiling lips
from last night's fit of sadness
and
cuts lined her forearm,
but still no one knew.
No one knew that the girl with the pretty
smile wanted nothing more than to end her
perfect
little
life.
-o.b

the wind brings you to me in a whisper.
hushed noises breathes wisps of
poison into my ears.

i can't helping listening to,
the sin, the sin.

you are a flower, a shadow, my reflection in the mirror.

but i didn't let you in,
i didn't breathe the breath, you haven't touched my skin.

venom courses, passively forces
you into my blood.

i didn't wish you here, god didn't put you near.
poison, poison, you are a flood.

I can’t help feeling like we treat people and words like trash.
I love you’s go in recycling.
Tinder messages in the garbage.
And all of the memories and dreams we shared together end up
rotting in piles that let off a particular kind of smell.
It permeates your nostrils
no matter how you try to escape it.
2.
I felt like a piece of garbage today.
3.
I’ve felt like a piece of garbage every day since we broke up
4.
Better yet I felt like I was left on the sidewalk;
discarded for someone else to deal with.
I was your dining room table
a bit scratched up and bruised
but still solid
still standing.
Now I’m alone on the sidewalk watching
as people pass me by-
Me wondering: if I still had value
would someone have come to rescue me by now?
5.
I still have a hard time imagining how
I would fit into a new space.
It seems like an impossible thought.
I find the self deprecating thoughts come faster
cheaper
easier
I’m waiting for garbage day to come.
For the anticipation to end.
To have an answer.