poison

When I sink into the sea, and people speak very few words for me. Remember me. Promise to the gods, the saints, you will recall my blood, the taste of me. That I was anything and everything just for a few moments. The greatest gift I can give anyone, is leaving you all entirely alone. Shut out into vast nothingness, I will roam and I will wait. My parting gift a braid of my hair, pleated neat, something you can keep.

So much guilt, so much pain. I want you to need me, I need you to want me. I’m worried there’s going to come a day where I’m forced to settle for less. What is it about me that dissatisfies, that isn’t enough? Pages and pages of writing. This is the same cycle over and over. I break my back in devotion, my hands are bit. I’m an option, I’m filler for an “eager black hole”. As busy as I’ve been, I think of all of you. I suppose my curse is never knowing how to be myself, without being absorbed in others. My curse is being shown a taste of love, and having it ripped from my hands when I believe I deserve it. What could that possibly be punishment for?

no it’s totally fine I love being used for intimacy and then put on ice by everyone around me it’s totally chill.

sick, lonely, and rotting away.

Sometimes when I can’t sleep I take your jacket off the back of my door and lay down with it. The smell of you, and your car lingers. Am I sick for missing you? Am I wrong for it? It’s silly how you and whatever you’ve left behind soothes me. I think of your warm skin, how peaceful you are when you’re asleep, how beautiful. I reminisce about the way you climbed into my bed the first night we spent together. Twin mattress rite of passage. Your arm was draped over me the whole time. I woke up to the word love in front of my eyes.

I’m sick, but im choosing to live in naivety with a striking blindness.

everyday is war of mind

I think one of my greatest capabilities is to love. I love and I love hard. I love my friends. I love that I can be something for others. I love that I can see things other people can’t. My heart is a big house, warm and soft. Room for plenty. The moon, the stars, the sweet breeze. My colored paints, and thick books with old frayed sleeves. Room for understanding and growth. Space just for learning to take sugar from venom, letting it go. A shrine in the walls to a distant devotion, brown eyed with a dark side. Laughter that makes everything lighter, he’s in my prayers, he’s sweeter than the sound of a death rattle. I love that nothing he can do makes me waiver, nothing makes me angry. I love my patience, I love that I can begin again, over and over. I love that loss sometimes brings the best things forward. For how would I have ever known such feelings, such joy, such emotion, if I had never been graced with such tragedy? Encased in my flesh is an ancient feeling, who am to deny the soul what it must have, what it must do, what it wants, what it craves?

spending time with you always makes my heart lighter. Just seeing you smile or happy, not thinking about what’s bothering you makes me happy. Knowing I’m not alone, you are still here, and my company isn’t a toxin. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt human.

I’m going to forget you now? Okay? I’m sorry it’s for the better