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Tag Archives: love

Tainted Love

You can leave me in the cold and like a loyal dog, I’ll stay. The dark can creep up on me and shroud me in its claws, but I’ll picture you and feel at home.

They shake their heads at me like I should know better, and I should.

But my heart beats for you and I can’t change the source of heat in my blood. So I’ll make friends with the shadows and tell them your name.

When you come back (and you will come back) don’t be afraid of the devils on my shoulders. Don’t be afraid of the cold in my skin or the damage in my eyes.

Your name will be forever on my lips and I have signed over my soul for you. The ink left bruises on my heart, is this love?

I will call it love as long as there is air in my lungs, even if it leaves me with smoke between my lips. I can learn to love the taste of toxins – just as I have learned to love the bruises on my heart. Just as I have learned to love you.

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The Light Flickers

Don’t forget to tell me good-bye when the time’s right. Don’t forget to hold the door open and watch me leave. Don’t forget to keep that smile on your face and, please, don’t forget to dream about me every night after.

When the next one whispers how much they love you when they think you’re sleeping, don’t forget to hold your breath and pray they don’t know you’re awake. Don’t forget to distance yourself and stop answering the phone. Don’t forget what those words sounded like when they came from my lips.

Down the road when you hold the-one in your arms and look at their sleeping face, don’t forget to picture mine. Don’t forget the feeling in your arms as they ache to hold me instead.

When things stop working and they leave you, don’t forget about the way you left me. Don’t forget the sway of my hips, or my tensed jaw.

Don’t forget me.

Don’t forget.


Amidst the Wreckage

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We drag our feet through the dirt
dust in the air,
in our lungs

We call this the wreckage
of our pasts,
of our hearts

I see you through the daze
in the dark,
through the hurt

Our hands meet in the middle
and we can finally rest,
breathe out the exhaustion

You can have my red thread
if I can have yours,
and all I ask of you

is be the one to stay
please,
just stay


Forgotten Socks

Your socks were rolled up and left under the bed. It’s been months but it still gave me pause, and I held them in my hands as though I had never seen them before. Except I had.

I might’ve been called mad if someone had seen me staring at a balled up pair of socks but it was all I could do. Suddenly waves of you, and us, washed over me and something got caught in my throat. I struggle to call that a name I no longer use for you.

I didn’t know if I should bury them like I did us. Or maybe set them on fire. Or maybe even keep them.

I put them back and pretended like I hadn’t found them after so long.

Now I’m stuck trying to forget you again.


what it’s not

Her fingers trace the lines on his skin, each graze a silent prayer for it to sink into his skin so deeply she becomes a part of the ink.

She hopes when he looks at his own skin all he sees is her. When his eyes find those marks, she hopes all he can feel are her fingers over them.

No one ever told her it’s okay to be alone.

Her breath clings to her throat and she doesn’t realize she’s stopped breathing. That exhale comes and makes her heart race and she swears it’s him.

No one ever told her she doesn’t need anyone.

Her own arms find their way around her and she can feel him missing from her. Words press against her lips although she knows she doesn’t know what they mean.

Because how can this be love when it makes you fear the empty space he’s not in?

Yet still they beg for their release.

No one ever taught her what love is.


Skeletons

We tear our skin off so that our souls are bare and when they touch it feels electric. I feel the pulse of my heart and I wonder if you feel it too; I swear it takes up the whole room.

Your hands are on me and I try my damnedest not to think of him. My eyes fight to stay locked onto yours so I don’t lose myself in dreams of the past I can’t seem to shake off. I don’t think you see it that way.

You tell me things so sweet it make my eyes water and I try so hard not to hear his voice. I know I can’t say them back. I know you know it, too.

 

I haven’t been able to understand why you accept so little.

 

We dance like lovers do and I breathe you in to the best of my ability. In, out. In a little deeper. Hold. Exhale. I pray this silent wish is granted.

Side by side we lay, our limbs intertwined and mixed like they were meant to be that way. We look like an art piece and I think it looks a little sad. I wonder if you see it, too. But I don’t ask.

I could never pry my lips open wide enough to make anything in my mind a reality. I ignore the beat of my heart and try to get lost in yours.

I sink into you and I’m so glad you pull me closer. I empty my lungs in a desperate attempt to let myself be pulled so far in I melt into your skin, into your bones, into your life. I want to let you breathe for me because I can only seem to find toxicity every time I open my mouth.

When your eyes close and your breathing evens out, I whisper my love for you until my throat runs dry. Maybe if I say it enough it’ll find it’s way into reality. Maybe if I wish hard enough, it’ll come true.

 

I love you I love you I love you.


Just another tragic love story.

The sinkhole of my mouth,
the tragic words I whisper
when his eyes close for the night.

I never tell him I feel like lost tupperware
hidden somewhere on the top shelf,
in the very back.

When the connection feels lost and
somewhere along the lines
he could no longer feel me,

it’s heartbreaking to say my fingertips
still remember the skin of his back
when he lied down facing away from me.

He said I stopped looking at him
the same, but his image is still burned
into the back of my head,

and I will think of him every night
he no longer sleeps beside me,
and I will feel the lack of his presence

every time the bed doesn’t dip
from his weight. He said he no longer
knew if I loved him.

I will carry the weight of my failure,
of the love I never learned to express,
and the burden of my closed lips.