Sometimes, I feel like ripping apart my skin, and searching for a reason for why I feel this empty. Maybe my veins are tangled, or something is lodged in my ribcage. Because it feels like something inside of me is missing or broken.
Sigh your name into my mouth, and I will breathe you in, so your words can make a home at the bottom of my lungs, escaping only on the nights when I feel the loneliest.
I envy the night that embraces you with its stillness, and caresses your eyelids, sending you to a cloud filled dream. You always look best when you sleep, your eyelashes fluttering, and your lips parted. I am tired of wrapping up my bones in these cold sheets, because i would rather be wrapping myself up in you.
You tore through the walls of my heart like a tornado, destroying everything in its path; Leaving my limbs cut up, and my bones bruised. And you didn’t even return to clean up the mess you created.
You are magnificent in the same way the violent cerulean waves are when they kiss the shore; Always coming back, crashing harder each time as if the pull could show all of the tiny cells in the sand how much it adores them.
The worst nights were the ones spent lying on cold and empty mattresses, thinking about you and how desperately I wanted to be underneath your bones and explain how awfully sorry I am for not being there when you needed me the most.
All I ever wanted was to show you how much I love you on nights like this , where we’d lie wide awake on top of an overused mattress and talk about all of the empty spaces between when we were born up to the day that we met each other, wondering what we were thinking ever being in the arms of another.
I never believed in heaven, or luck or even myself, until I woke up to the creases of your arms slung over my rib cage at 8 in the morning. And watched your eyelashes as they fluttered in the light of the sunrise slipping through your tiny window, and thought to myself, That if your arms could be any place, they would be heaven, and that I am the luckiest person in the world.
You are the dark, immaculate night sky on a chilly summer night. With bare toes against the grass, and my spine looking towards the sky, I will always return to nights like these, where I can remember you.
all we want in life is to touch somebody with our suffering. to teach them what it’s like to be in the dark for too long. but what happens when your suffering becomes contagious, sweeping, like a plague. you graze the people who you claim to love with it, eventually pulling them into the dark to join you so that you don’t feel so alone in your made up, lightless universe
no amount of crimson rivers down my thighs or cigarettes between my lips can fill this void as big as a canyon that dwells beneath my ribs.
“patience,” you said. i waited silently in my chair for you to come. “soon,” you said. i sat at the edge of my bed hands folded over my knobby pale knees, patiently awaiting your arrival. “someday,” are the only words that can seem to escape my lips anymore. there is only a someday with you.
show me all the places that you’ve been bruised and i promise to trace my fingers gracefully around them until you’re well enough to be touched. show me where you’ve bled; the places which your scars lie and i promise to plant seeds inside of your pores so that your skin can sprout new life in order for you to be new again i would pour my life into you just to create a...
If somebody were to ever ask me what you were like, I would become inarticulate because I don’t think any amount of metaphors and similes could describe the way my body feels when I can sense your eyes on me, and no amount of make-shift poetry could express the way you make me feel even when you’re nowhere to be found
it’s much easier to trace the flesh of your thighs and feel all the memories rush through your fingertips, than it is to dismantle your words from the back of your tongue, allowing them to escape like birds leaving north for the winter
I care for you so much, that if you told me you wanted to be left alone to drown in your own sorrows, I would keep my distance, but tread water in the rivers you create at your shoulders until you felt well enough to swim
You’re the type of person who would rather close the shades to your foggy window at 9 in the morning so that you can sleep just a little bit longer. You clung to your dreams hoping they’d provide you a safety net. You would rather construct walls of steel around your doorways, keeping everybody with a golden heart away just so that you won’t have to feel that same collapsing...
braille i traced your flesh with my pointer fingers, reading all of your stories that you haphazardly lived. all the mountains you’ve climbed to get to where you are today then i reached your scars, and you trembled and that was the saddest story that i have ever read
i met you in july your bones were bruised and your heart was a vacant room it was selfish of me to ease myself into you to try to fill the void but i was cold and you radiated warmth
there’s something about the way the curve of your hips look at 2 am next to me on satin white sheets and the way you traced my face with the back of your fingers, memorizing every curve in my lips as if you were an architect studying the structure of my body
you would collect stars from the black sky just to spread them like fairy dust throughout the pores of my skin and you would cup your hands beneath the moon and steal it’s silver lining and embroider it on my wrists just to cover up the scars
i drowned myself in the ocean and became one with the waves in hopes that one day you’d venture out into the deep and i’d get the privilege to grace your sun bathed skin with my blue
i breathed you in like a cigarette hoping that you would sit smoothe in my lungs and trail out through my lips and relieve me of this weight when in reality you were just killing me all along
if i could live in the galaxies of your mind i would count every constellation until my brain turned to stardust
how selfish of me to put the fate of my happiness into the palm of somebody else’s hands