We lay in our winter skins, counting the heartbeats until we were ourselves again.
In the quiet, you were the light, dusk breaking across your months away from here - you look like someone else, a thousand strangers with each second the sun crushes into the street, your mouth pressed to my neck, and outside the window, the world was empty with the apocalypse, silver valentines fled like ghosts.
(Who are you?)
Who were you before you came here with your rucksack over your shoulder, and the bible written on the soles of your shoes? Second hand dreams streaming down your hair, drenching you down to the lines of your ankles - it was your feet, that's why I opened the door. You looked like you could walk all over me and I wouldn't mind at all.
Yeah, you always looked so damn beautiful, calling me up at 4.00 a.m to tell me how much you hated me, your breath melting holes into the sky until the whole fucking night was raining stars and I didn't have enough wishes to name them all. And the wounds they left behind slowly filled up with those words you wasted on me. ( i.love.you. ) I never wanted it to end.
((sometimes I still wonder if I should've just said sorry.))
oh, who taught you to love like that?
You did. Your fingers pressing bruises into my ribs like ink, puddling in the unexpected dips of my hips curling into commas - a brief pause before you learned to breathe again. Lungs pushed into their new functions as if this is what we should've been doing all along. And you said you just needed to find yourself ( oh darling, THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE - just someone else's emptiness.)
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He came back with a new face and a new pair of shoes. He said the same words but without you to hold them, they crumpled weakly like bottle flies on the windowsill.
In the room, we slept on a bed of salt, and when the streetlights burned through our skins, we melted into an ocean, white sheets and hospital corners. Bones boiled to the marrow - is this close enough to salvation? or do you still believe in God? (What did you do with your shoes, and please, who are you?)
who are you, dear?
love?
And while you slept, I cut myself, but it didn't hurt, and you never woke up.
And I became a desert, a dusty imprint of feet - in the bathroom I went through your things
but you never had a name. Your bag had nothing but an old razor crusted with soap, and your clothes were generic.
You slept with your arm around the indent my body left behind,
and all I could think was, "use the full tab."
(i would do anything to feel again.)
.
.
.
Author notes
and the people that we were, we wrapped them up in sheets and threw them out, hoping nobody would ever find us. (I miss you.)
"...I picture you in the sun
and falling down on your knees wondering what went wrong
and being caught between all you wish for
and all you've seen .. "
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
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He came back with a new face and a new pair of shoes. He said the same words but without you to hold them, they crumpled weakly like bottle flies on the windowsill.
In the room, we slept on a bed of salt, and when the streetlights burned through our skins, we melted into an ocean, white sheets and hospital corners. Bones boiled to the marrow - is this close enough to salvation?
- Fantastic. No words could capture just how much that part hurt. I hate the knowledge that I can identify with the feeling more than anything. The imagery, the vocabulary, the balance of emotion and thought put into this piece, was all so skillfully portrayed. This was beautifully penned♥
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an ice cream scoop of my soul
your images burn sunspots onto the retinas of my soul. the piece flows like gasps of air. i swallowed it down like a man dying of thirst. i'm curious if the unnamed man in this is the renewed presence of a companion or a cycle of different men in the same "office." always a great read disease.
peace
scaredandscaled
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a cycle of different men. the first man was the only important one, after that, they did the right things, they just weren't... the right person anymore.
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relationship organ weariness...
i relate to your presentation of the feeling of SOs (significant others) stepping into the "role" and just as easily walking out. especially these lines
"Second hand dreams streaming down your hair, drenching you down to the lines of your ankles,"
its interesting how we hold new SO's to the unreachable and dremy standards of our dream/memories of our past relationships. the tone is perfect.
thanks for sharing,
peace
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wow.
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you quite possibly are my favorite poet to read. i'm about to read some of your work to my roomate. it's excellent.
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wow...
this is truly amazing,
im really lost for words..
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Every time I read a piece of yours, I leave with a hole in my heart. (But I'm certainly not complaining) <3
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wow...i don't even know what to say about this.
this was so breathtaking...i admire you & your work so much, you have no idea. =o
bookmarked, for sure..
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thank you
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This is absolutely heartbreaking. I really can't remember how long it's been since written word has made me feel this strongly emotional.
Just the sad image of two people growing apart and moving away without looking back -- the way that we change and move on and aren't who we used to be. One of the hardest things to accept can be that the people who are the most important may not be around forever, even when you swear your life is meaningless without them and swear that nothing will ever change. People change, and with those changes, the ones we love can eventually disappear and cease to exist. Sometimes the people we become just don't match the people that our loved ones become, but regardless of the reality of the situation the love doesn't disappear.
A part of your heart will always belong to that person, regardless of whether or not they still exist in the way you remember them. Sometimes I wonder if that type of feeling can ever go away...
Does love ever really disappear? Even when there's no realistic way for it to continue? Or does a part of you always wonder whether the person you loved so deeply will someday reappear and that things will be how they were..
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I don't think love ever really disappears no matter what happens. But I think you get to a point where love would never work out; you go so far to do the things you do and finally you reach a saturation point, and even if you still love someone, you just cant do it, you know?
at least, that's what i kinda think...
thanks for the insights
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'You did. Your fingers pressing bruises into my ribs like ink, puddling in the unexpected dips of my hips curling into commas'
your writing is always so stunning. always has such beautiful personification or imagery. always leaves me wanting more. this piece reminds me of all the cold days we have outside, it's so empty and just aches to be filled.
<33
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thank you.
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"the sun crushes into the street"
&
"[And while you slept, I cut myself, but it didn't hurt, and you never woke up.]"
-this reminds me of alot.
i actually did do that. heh. strange
you see me to the bones
and you see me through my dear.
dont stop writing.
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wow babe this was amazing;
i just love everything about it
[And while you slept, I cut myself, but it didn't hurt, and you never woke up.]
This made me feel.
<3
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AMAZING!!!
This had me wanting more from start to finish...absolutely amazing and brilliant!!! every word, every second...just lovely
oh how i loved this, by far my fav part:
( oh darling, THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE - just someone else's emptiness.)
wow, thanks for blowing my mind with your beautiful work!!!!!
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