nightskies

Rabbits Rabbits Rabbits

“I. I think somewhere along the way my hands got tired of writing this same story over and over again. It always say: HE LEFT AGAIN AND IT PUTS ME IN PAIN. II. I can’t really remember the beginning. Was I happy? Was I really that happy that I kept begging for it again? Was it worth the pain? I can’t even remember the happy times. What the fuck. III. Even all my friends got tired of listening about you. They said: YOU ALWAYS GOING ABOUT HIM AND HIM AND HIM—BUT THE END IS JUST THE SAME—NOTHING CHANGED—HE’S STILL NOT YOURS IV. So instead of you another guy drives me home through the rain. He don’t add up to you but he’s here. He’s here. He’s here and you’re not. I should really to get used to this. V. He wanted me to stop mentioning your name. Maybe I should. VI. Come back? Please? One last time? It’s only three months. Come back? Because I think I’ve gotten used to not being with you. Because I think that’s not something I want to get used to.”

She made a poet out of me; and I made a poem out of her.

kestamaria: