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i've been lost before.

there is a clock on my desk with no hands, ticking endlessly to nothing. i'm waiting for you to come find me again, staring out the window and listening for the tell-tale rustle of gravel as you try to walk sneakily up my driveway. the moon is half-covered by clouds and i know, somehow, that it'll be another night spent thinking about your mood-ring eyes and what i did wrong this time. there are no stars to wish on tonight, just regret.

~~~

i remember your hair smelled like cherry blossoms and springtime right as my world was spiraling down into fall and a seemingly endless winter. i would write you poem after poem, crying in my room, wondering if this was all my fault or if it could've happened to anyone. i would pick at scabs, willing them to be scars so i could remember you forever. i couldn't decide where the line was between love and hate or if it was even possible for me to cross. i was addicted to your lightning-bolt kisses and the fire in your hands and the way you looked when you were sorry.

i always missed you most when the black and blue faded and i began to look new again.

~~~

we were standing across from each other by your dining room table, looking vacantly at the television. i was content, sure that today, i would see you smile.

you asked, 'do you think love is real?'

and i responded, smiling softly, 'just look at me.'

when your eyes turned dark, i flinched, waiting for the inevitable.

'love doesn't exist. i don't know why you think you can get away with lying to me.'

i was grateful for the durability of the wall because i could break against it and still stand. i would not let you see me cry because i knew i couldn't handle seeing your satisfied grin, not this time.

~~~

there used to be roses, dark-crimson, a replacement for whatever i'd lost the night before. for a week, i walked out onto the porch in the early-autumn chill, waiting to see your apology, our way of pretending that from now on, things were going to be different. they never showed up and for the first time, the roses in the vase i kept in my room died, unreplaced.

i was never so empty.

~~~

i held your mangled heart for years after you took it back. i kept your mix-tapes and the scent of bonfire resided in my heart, scorching it as i thought of your fingertips, sooty and burnt from holding them over the flames until you couldn't take it anymore. i looked at my fingers and remembered the blisters that made it so hard to write about how much i hated letting my fingers roast just because you wanted to beat me.

every time we had to run a mile in gym class, the burn in my lungs reminded me of countless nights spent fleeing from flying beer bottles, just to find myself even more lost without you.

sometimes, my fingers itch for the pain, the unshakably broken and mutated love and the taste of stale alcohol and blood. sometimes, i miss you.

but not often.

Author notes

i used:

“a million hours left to think of you and think of that.”
The Con – Tegan & Sara

“you taste like tear stains and could-have-beens, but I love a good train wreck.”
Written in Blood – She Wants Revenge

“why do you choose your pain? if you only knew how much I love you.”
Your Winter – Sister Hazel

“open up my hands to find out they’re empty.”
Something to Believe In – Aqualung

“I’m alright, I’m alright. it only hurts when I breathe.”
Breathe – Melissa Etheridge


i may try to make this better.

A contest entry

please?

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Comments

1 - 6 of 6

  • PaintedParisPassion
    May 12

    Edit | Reply
    I really hope that this isn't a personal experience, but usually when writings are this well put its because its personal, and i'm somewhat going through the same thing and i really hope i dont go through all of what you've written about. The raw emotion was excellent, overall its well done. Thanks for entering and good luck in the contest

    -B


  • etoile
    May 2

    Edit | Reply
    wow, the ending is brilliant. that last line is very powerful. in the first paragraph I didn't really like your use of the word 'sneakily' it just seemed awkward to me. but otherwise this is fantastic, it's filled with beautiful imagery and raw emotion.

    goodluck and thanks for entering


  • AutumnGypsy gold member
    May 2

    Edit | Reply
    This was such a tough piece to read, I have lived this life before and it's not one I would wish on anyone. Brilliantly done. Best to you in the contest


  • Miss Faith
    April 15

    Edit | Reply
    oh my gosh, this basically just ripped out my heart and lit it on fire. you are amazing, this was too sad. but that's how some of the best poetry goes..

    anyway, you amaze me, ok?


    "i held your mangled heart for years after you took it back. i kept your mix-tapes and the scent of bonfire resided in my heart, scorching it as i thought of your fingertips, sooty and burnt from holding them over the flames until you couldn't take it anymore."

    "sometimes, my fingers itch for the pain, the unshakably broken and mutated love and the taste of stale alcohol and blood. sometimes, i miss you.

    but not often."

    wow.


  • jazzcat gold member
    April 14

    Edit | Reply
    There are so many outstanding parts to this that it is difficult for me to focus and point at what really, really struck me, but I'll try.

    'i was grateful for the durability of the wall because i could break against it and still stand.'

    I wish I had written such a powerful, visual and emotional line. This one really made me feel the pain and see it.

    'the moon is half-covered by clouds and i know, somehow, that it'll be another night spent thinking about your mood-ring eyes and what i did wrong this time. there are no stars to wish on tonight, just regret.'

    This is just beautiful. The picture you paint, the images you use, the last line that grabs the reader's heart.

    I could go on and on, but I'll keep it short by saying this is one of my most favorites of your work. It is honest, yet it does not bleed off the page or smack the reader in the face. It is just absorbed by the reader and each line penetrates us deeper. Very, very strong writing!


  • The-Phoenix
    April 13

    Edit | Reply
    "sometimes, my fingers itch for the pain, the unshakably broken and mutated love and the taste of stale alcohol and blood. sometimes, i miss you."
    - ♥

    the only word that comes to mind is beautiful, and not even that is good enough.

1 - 6 of 6