Sunday Morning Phantoms

When you called me beautiful
Did you mean it?
Or were you only referring to the way I looked that night
A few days- or was it years- ago
Hips swaying and alluring eyes
You see I was just hoping when you said perfect you were actually talking about my soul
Or my mind
And the way I tried to shape every conversation into something poetic worth hearing
Were you listening?

When you said my name
Were you thinking of someone else's?
Trying to fit the letters tracing my outline onto her frame
You were fighting so hard to make her and I synonymous
When the symbols wouldn't even rearrange

When you looked at me
Were you trying to find reasons to stay other than my body?
Were you trying to see my eyes as fresh cooked meals
And my hands to be notes kissed with 'I miss you'
Did you ever see the word home written in my smile
Like I saw in yours a thousand times
Or at least I thought I did

You see I've been living off of one night stands so often that my calendar never quite reaches Sunday
And I'm just begging for a restart
I wanted you to be my Satruday night
And my Sunday morning
But I keep waking up in cold sheets
Having nightmares wondering

When you said I was always tired
Did you mean I wasn't making you happy?
Your implications were always staring at me in my reflection
I couldn't help but puke up all these emotions I'd swallowed
Lying and saying this is the last time

I'd begun eating your words just to taste my own
Screaming her name into storm clouds
Waiting to feel numb
I hollowed out myself to make room for you
Didn't you see?
I would rather have been eaten alive by the idea of her
Than to watch you leave

I'd always been the one to latch on first and let go soon after
But this time
I didn't want to be free
Slowly though your arms became water slides
And my arms wrapped around your feet were slipping
The ground of forgotten was a gravel pit
The rocks gouged  out holes in my fingers and pulled apart my hair

I couldn't find Sunday morning in your air anywhere

I'd unhinged as was left open by the gust of wind your running feet left me with
But I won't apologize to the space replacing your emptiness

Did you leave when you realized she wasn't
Me
Or I wasn't
Her

What gave me away?
Was it the way my emotions undressed me?
Or the arrangement of my scars
Or the way my hand didn't fit
Quite perfectly
Into yours

Was I just a body?
Painted like a prop across your shoulders
A doll named Nostalgia

And I know you aren't a fan of this lovesick poetry bullshit
(So maybe I should keep going)
But I just wanted
For once
To say:
Good Morning
I cleaned the sheets
Lets have Sunday breakfast in bed