One piece after the other
I'll break myself apart
and fill your empty spaces
i fought so long. for something that was no longer right for me.
i held on so tightly to a rope that was splitting,
unwinding itself between my fingers, scraping my skin as it grew thinner.
i closed my eyes when the bombs went off.
i held my breath when the waves got too high.
i kicked and screamed my way through a war.
and when the smoke cleared,
i was left with bruises and burn marks.
i was left with a pain in my chest from forgetting how to breathe.
i was left with water in my lungs from trying to stay above water.
i was left to pick up the pieces.
and sometimes i find lost parts of you,
pieces you’ve already forgotten you once had
and i hesitate.
because they remind me of all the things we did right.
all the infinities we spent together...
seeing them reminds me that you can do everything right,
and life will still tell you,
that you are wrong.
you don't win a war by screaming and holding your breath
i have learned that much by now.
but it still hurts
to see the pieces you’ve left behind.
the life we almost shared
the life we could have had
turning to ashes.
but i do know, that from the dying embers
it is possible to grow back again.
and maybe, just like the trees in the fall
when they shed their leaves
they are only leaving pieces behind
for a new life to grow.
and maybe i can grow too.
why do i crumble
fall into pieces of
oats and sugar
something beautiful
in a white bowl, but
a mess on the floor
when i wake up
in an empty house
why do i wither like
brown leaves
under brand new and
borrowed boots atop
autumn sidewalks
when i’m alone,
i’m alone,
i’m alone
it is not enough
to eat breakfast
however small
to wash my hair with
coconut milk
to not step out into
the busy street;
i freeze before the ice
touches me
i do not allow
the chance to warm
my own hands
i lie down, on
dirty sheets,
and wait for someone
anyone
anything
to awaken me
Do you ever wonder

Where do all those friends go
With the little pieces of you they once knew

The person you'd tell your best kept secrets to
The people you use to glean advice from
That guy who knows everything about you

I wonder

Where have they placed those keys I gave them
Perhaps a dusty draw
Maybe it fell down the back of their couch, lying forgotton on the hard wood floor

Or what if they still walk around with it
Still thinking about the box it belongs to
I wonder if I even care one bit
What they do with their key

Its not as if the once worried over box it unlocks hoards any such value these days you know
And as for my front door
I had the locks changed long ago

k.g.
Just a thought
Valora Brave Dec 2016
Every inch of my story line
I drank like coffee that you need so badly
You don't notice the taste of ash
it leaves in your throat
and when I breathed out smoke,
slowly gliding from my tongue,
you'll know, the words I can't choke
the ones I hung to dry,
but left them outside
through a crisp winter season
and returned just in time
to catch the lullaby as it dissolved into water.
I couldn't wait any longer.
I broke them into icy pieces
that fit back in my mouth.
I held them there long after I breathed
the blizzard that had formed in my stomach.
I couldn't swallow, I couldn't breathe
and I couldn't wait for you to leave.

So I locked my icy breath in my hands
and looked for silent corners between buildings
so I could begin to understand
how to squeeze out the blood from the words I've been spilling
Part 1/12
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