It's 12:04am and I'm trying my best to sleep
All I can think about are memories we haven't created yet
Memories waiting to be planted and blossom
I'm thinking about you
If your hair is long...blonde maybe
Maybe you have green eyes that sparkle like a gem
I wonder what my name sounds like coming from your lips
And if you'll finally be the one for me.
We were best friends.
It's sad I have to talk about us in the pass tense now.
Was it so
An old movie
I don't know
Was he the Hero
Was I the heroine
Was it so
An old movie
I don't know
Was there any cuts any takes
Was there any flied of sunflowers
Was it so
An old movie
I don't know
May be it was
Drops of water,
Flowing seas.
Those who weep,
The happy.
A flickering match,
Burning countries.
Sorrows and worries,
So carefree.
Loving a memory,
So full of detest.
Holding a flower,
So lifeless.
A plate of food,
Empty stomach.
A helping hand,
For trouble.
She rolls up her dress
blue flowers over boxers
near the Black Muslim.
At ninety-one, how
many other naps has she
taken in sunlight?
The floor, worn away
into grimacing profiles,
into continents.
The fly seeks the sun,
never getting through the screen
last week of July.
Her hair, purple waves
over a determined stare,
guitar on her back.
The terns flap southeast
i am leaking
of my own accord
to relive every fucked up moment
a hundred lifetimes over,
and to pull them in the pit with me
so the gaping abyss isn't as lonely.
every picture and note and smashed bottle cap
was thrown into a box hidden beneath my bed
behind shoes and blankets and laundry
so that i'd never have to look at it again
but i can feel it through my mattress
trying to seep back in my soul
so i think i'll shove some more crap under there
those sheets i meant to throw away
a rotting apple core
a notebook or two
and more and more and moreandmoreandmore
sunlight pours through the window and its bent blinds,
stabbing at my eyes until they're filled with swirls of red and orange.
the birds try their best to make blood pool from my ears.
No, I don't want to leave!
Please don't wake me up.
the world i've created, painstakingly crafted, dulls.
their voices are muddled as reality punches me in the gut.
What did they look like again?
a kaleidoscope dances behind my eyelids and
i pull the covers over my head.
We were at the beach. No, the park. And they were saying...
but then the dream disintegrates
and floats away in the wind.
it's all lost.
there's barely a footprint left to haunt my every memory.
"I had this dream earlier."
it's sickening the hold you still have on me
when you're nothing but
a rotting corpse,
an empty sack of flesh,
decaying
in the dirt
beneath my feet.
yet i still find myself
trying to limit the mess my ashes make when i burn
trying to quiet my screams as i drown
trying to decide how much i can bleed before i stain the carpet
all because of the lessons i learned
from you.
it's sickening.
one way or another,
the world that haunts me
will bleed away.
sitting alone in my bed, the fan blowing against my skin,
i remember
the rush of your breath
the pitter-patter of your heart
the soft silk of our shared blanket
but now its thread traces the ground, muddy and frayed,
as i brush through the wind
into the freezing river.
I hadn't thought of you in weeks ,
maybe days. . .
Sometimes I forget , that I make myself forget about you
Until one day , you changed .
but everything stayed the same .
she brought you up today .
I don't think they knew
I was keeping a tally in my head .
counting how many days it would take to forget you .
or how long it would take for the ache in my heart to go away
so here I am ,
tears running down my face ,
reminding myself
you don't love me,
& what she said can't be true
because I thought I had just forgot about you .