Pieces in the Dark

I aimed to tear my life apart,
because like clothes
it looked better on the floor,
now there is nothing left, just
flesh,
blood,
and bones.

We dressed ourselves in ideals,
wearing our hearts like marker on our sleeves,
never failing to cast aside morality
when we washed them off to "sleep".

Turn off the light.
Shut the window,
lock the door.
Each moment, every bated breath,
lacking more composure than before.

In the dark we moved forward,
unafraid of the conflicts that lay ahead.
The war waging between love and wisdom
will ensue only after we make the bed.

The clock, it read
"2. 0. 3."
My mother, well she was right,
a minute after 2
holds little promise for me.
But in the night,
blanketed by drunken pride
and infatuated pulse,
blinds and binds me to the crime
of turning all of my truths
false.

So, then came the morning after,
I collected my pants,
shirt,
and shoes,
only leave a piece behind of me;
my dearest hope of you.

You met me on the driveway of departure,
spring air comingling with sweat,
vodka,
and lambs.
You asked me for one last kiss,
and its here you fail to understand...

What you mean to me,
is more than what I mean to you-
so i kissed you like a silencer
and left you to bleed out in your brood.

I remember as I walked away
I could feel a heaviness in my heart,
a lead weight between my elbow and cuff.
The barley rellocted memory
of the night I left my pieces in the dark.