#songsofthecloud

You hurt me to the point

Of uncontrollable.

I feel sick,

Damp and warm,

Like the air after it rains.

Humid.

I’m trying to breathe you in,

but I’m constantly coughing.

My stomach aches:

Food poison.

Throwing up

the words you come back with,

Instead of just saying sorry.

I’ll be in the bathroom,

Until you come home.

Then, slipping into bed:

Quietly crying myself to sleep,

reaching for that stuffed animal

i pause; study his sunken skin and

try to determine which version of myself

i will be tonight

the shallowness in his eyes tells me

that he is not “trying to get to know me”:

he has already created me in his mind

and with each word i piece together

the manic pixie dream girl that

he so desperately needs me to be

sifting through the personalities like a closet

picking the one most suited to the occasion

a liquid taking the shape of any vessel it’s in

lately

the fabrication is almost instinctive and

i commit so earnestly to character that

somewhere in the act i lose myself

I don’t want to be the first to speak Even if it’s through my red wine teeth You don’t seem to realise that I’ve spoken first a thousand times

I cross platforms just to see The transient prints you left behind And even if I find you there Your stone-cold tongue won’t move a bit

I'm crazy to still stand here, on the shore Arms outstretched, my organs in hand Dripping red that sinks into sand By the transient prints you left behind

And when your boat pulls in You won’t even flinch You’ll pass me by and assume I’ll follow To the house I built

Another day,

I can't take it,

I don't wish to stay.

Mindlessly going through the days,