untitledIt was august when you first spoke to me And started stealing my heart Bit by bit like the winter stealing The sun and the colder the weather became The more I fell in love But I had noticed you long before this.untitled
You were together but I Closed my eyes to this because Seeing is believing and she Was nothing more than a speck of dust In my imagination, but it seems we’ve Run out of feathers.
Giving myself to you in dark cars With the snow falling softly, gently While we tore and groped at each other In the most obscene ways
And I
Sad Story1. You walk through the door with herSad Story
Following close behind and our eyes do not meet And everyone holds their breath because no one knows what to expect and you’re Both moving into the other room and I’m still in the kitchen Drinking wine the color of my shirt
Straight out of the bottle because that’s the way Real alcoholics do it baby and I’m laughing but its fake And I’m hoping I can drown my memories and the Pornographic thoughts that make me want to vomit
So I keep playing cards with your friends Presidents and Assholes And at the end of t
things you should knowI. I used to sleep with your shirt every night. I’d hold it up to my face until I breathed you in, but now it sits folded in the trunk of my car like a dead body or something I’m ashamed of. It’s yours whenever you want to come get it.things you should know
II. Sometimes I talk to myself in the mirror pretending it is you. I ask you why you never touch me anymore and why when you do it feels cold and out of habit, and afterwards you look at me surprised like you never really meant to touch me at all. I ask myself this like it is you staring back but the eyes are the wrong color.
III. You r
truthI hate the way you have changed and the way That you deny that you have. I hate the way you talk to me like I’m nothing to you And I never was. And the way that I’m beginning to Believe that hurts me now and all I want Is for it to hurt you. And I hate the way that you talk to her the way That you used to talk to me, and how the way you Used to talk to me was probably the way That you used to talk to her. I hate the way you fuck me with your Eyes half open and glossed over like You’re thinking of someone else on top of you And all I really want to dotruth
seven thingsi.seven things
the first time i came car-crash close to telling you that i wanted to die, you were late coming in
from your garden
and your eyes were hillsides, skylines; i wanted to take your gentle mouth and fill it with twine, to puncture your throat with wood.
i wanted a secret nest.
there's no beginning to this
story, just childhood arms scabbing over and a place for the wrens to hide.
ii.
i am writing this in krakow. i am writing this in a dragon of smoke. i am writing this in a wet blue dres
what i can't stop.there is a mix of tastes in the cavity above my throat and behind my nose: three hours worth of sweat, nasal blood, spiced brandy and bitter salt. my nose could be broken with all the blood that erupted when you hit it, but i was careful and kept you on top while i took breaths through my mouth on the floor where you wouldn't know any better.what i can't stop.
the way we lay, too guilty and unwilling to face each other (4am), the way we shivered, too afraid to stumble for blankets in a house not our own (5am), the way we finally crept downstairs, hands thrust, shaking, against the fireplace (6am), the way we kept each other painfully awake—ar
so.
