I am sitting on the bedroom floor at 5am, waiting for the man I love to call or text me back. Nothing terrible has happened, he merely missed the flight here and I am staying awake until I know he'll be okay and safe somewhere, wherever he happens to go, whether that's here or home or his friend's house a couple of days earlier than planned.
So I guess I am sitting on this floor because I can do nothing else. From this far away, I can only tell him over and over again that it's okay.
You are creating a liminal space. I'm breaking my way into boundaries, while you erect more walls. Why do you flee, when the wall at the tip of your tongue perfectly sinks behind my molars? And your drunk eyes, my first vicious thought every morning. We are trying to bisect ourselves, slowly becoming unbecoming.
an intuitive, striking grasp of reality on a late night bus ride
You decided that this is your life. That this boy right here, the very same boy you have flown across the vast country just to kiss, is your life's work. You equate him to all your running-away times in which you were actually happy.
Your life is made of suitcases. You are, in fact, a suitcase.
You are built to hold only what you need, and as what you need becomes what you needed, you empty yourself only to fill it up again for your next stop... but when it comes to this boy, your life's work, ...
A toast to the young boy whose smile is a radiating jagged in circles.
You left the same way you entered, screaming, pleading for salvation, fighting the stars with that blanket. Have you moved on? I see the girl who pried open the cracks of you, left fragments when there was none. Are you still clawing your way out?
We didn't touch each other quietly. We sing through the walls. We sing the color of your smile. The scent of your neck, and the dust you left in my ear when you whispered: "No marks."
We fell into the dents of each other's hair, reached for one...
Oh Sleeper, How do I steal back those handsome days that we walled together with lies and deception? We made out under the bright light of Berenice's hair and drank down sanity with morphine, bottled prettily with the guises you weave all your life. We're too clever for our own good and too scared for the mundane.
How I wish I could be like you. The lightness that goes one with your skin. You gamble with ease while I can only...
The first night you held my hand, you said you'd break my heart and I whispered don't be such a goddamn cliche. That night, I got myself a new hobby of constantly minding the flashbacks of your wrinkled eyes on replay, the way your lips twitched as I sprawled before your eyes. I remember the scent of our silent scars. your tainted spine, my upper thighs. You said you cannot love me like how I deserve for some other girl punched a hole deep in your chest, leaving wide gashes as big as life where no one can ever fit, ...