a poem about my shitty ex roommate that i’m starting to worry i resemble
if that aint annoying enough. anyway here:
the mirror looks into the lake and somehow they cannot see themself at all all they see is lake but they are looking at a mirror
we are telling our friends about how we should’ve known we are counting red flags on our fingers like i counted reasons there were to love you
you’re telling your friends some story about me being an asshole i’m telling mine some story about you being patronizing we’re painting the town red in each other’s blood
deep down, we aren’t so different i saw you for who you were and i didn’t think you were worth hating and when the world turned its back on you i didn’t
i’m sure that’s not the story that rolls off your tongue i can’t ask for it to be it’s so easy to call someone crazy it’s so easy to make me your villain it’s so easy to make you mine i’m trying not to make you mine
I want to leave this town now If I could, i wouldn’t stay another moment
the closet doors slam your closet it’s my closet it’s my room why can’t i take your name off of it
the way i think the way i sing the way my mouth curls around my words and spits out phrases you gifted me i wish i could return them
your ashtray your curse your birthday scribbled out on the calendar your name in my therapists notes your name in my journal your name on the fucking mail your name your name your name
my voice screaming at you your voice screaming at her a whirlwind of she said she said (i can’t tell who is right anymore)
my heart throwing knives at you the guilt that flood when one lands i’m stuck wondering what we could’ve been if i didn’t let the hurt inside of me bubble over the pot and burn your hands i didn’t mean to burn you
the current apologizes to the dead girl with water in her lungs but she’s still dead
your laugh your candle your necklace i got you for christmas i wanted so badly to make a home for us here it is ash the fire department came too late
the flame calms itself down to a flicker but when it turns to talk to the house it’s too late
In my dreams it’s you with a knife and me on my knees it’s the look on your face you had when you told me about revenge i should’ve seen this coming i would have never seen this coming
your towels your shirt your handprint on the bedroom window you left your mark here no amount of windex can change that
the earthquake retreats to the tectonic plates there’s still a hole here
deep down, we aren’t so different we talked about that a lot i was wrong about us two healers do not fix each other turns out we only helped because we hurt what do you do when you start to hate someone who reminds you of yourself
the post breakup gossip is piping and fun there’s no boundaries on how far you can go you’re free to let all that anger out and oh, that anger can scald
you’re probably using every word Webster has to define bitch. or monster. or toxic. i’m doing the same thing. i hope you’re at least laughing at me i hope i’m an easy target i hope i gave you an outlet for that
we are not so different we are both trying to mold this story into the best thing it can be we are both trying to find a way to be the hero we are war torn explaining to our troops why our cause is the right one i’ve never believed in that kind of morality
i hope you know that the only reason i can hate you these days is because i hate myself whether you know it or not yet, the things you hate about me are tattooed on you too.
the mirror looks into the lake and realizes that the only thing it can do is hate the reflection
