like a fish on a line

Now I wonder if your “I miss you” was just a whiskey-fuelled way to keep me around. I’m tired of being that late night call, knowing you smell of cheap booze and cigarettes while I lay in bed wrapped in your t-shirt. You feed me sweet words and empty promises that I know have no substance but it keeps me going. I feed off of your distance, it keeps me grounded. You’ve become my centre, and I’m left wandering aimlessly as pieces, hoping you’ll bring me back together. I’m tired of leaving messages that go unanswered, of being nothing to you until you’re satisfied with where we stand. Reeling me back in like a fish on a line, with no intentions of unleashing the hook you’ve pierced through my lip. And I haven’t realized the damage it’s done because each time it rips, you kiss it better. I don’t know any better. And you know that.

What will it take? Until you tear me apart?

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voicemail

Dialling your number with a sigh of regret, knowing there will be no answer. There never really is. While I’m laying in the dark, you’re swallowing down vodka and probably kissing a strange girl’s lips. I just need you right now, that’s all that this is. I just needed your voice, I just feel so low. I’m okay with just the bar noise or even if it’s only a “hello?”

lately, I only hear your voicemail recording

beer reminds me of her

I taste beer off of strangers tongues, reminds me of when our lips met on your fathers deck. The smell always made me sick but how I wish I could have one more chance to run my hand around your neck. To hold you on a couch that’s just small enough for two, and how scared I was of falling in love but you made it easy to.

Oh how I wish there was still something between me and you

don’t 

Don’t leave. I’m so used to people leaving, and believing their soft spoken lies saying they’ll always be by my side.

I believed yours, yet you’ve proven time again that you’re no better than them. Your mouth forms pretty lies that you’re able to hide behind.

You didn’t want to hurt me, what a fucking lie. If you didn’t want to hurt me, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. But you, did time after time.

Don’t leave, please. I know you said not to worry but I do, I do. Now I know it was for good reason, the words you said were never true.

For you left, you left, you left…

Beloved Hands Don’t Always Love

i. My mothers hands never had a soft land on the skin across my cheek. Always rough side, knuckle bared swipe leaving me with the realization I could never do right. Could always do better, be better, be nothing like anything. Just say what she thought and do as she does and I could walk away with less bruises this time.

ii. That’s why when his rough hands took fistfuls of hair I grit my teeth, I did not swear. He always said, I could be like her. He wanted me to be like her. Just do as he says, and say what he needs and I would leave with less cuts on my knees.

iii. Yet her.. her hands seemed soft and safe, unlike past skin – against mine did not chafe. Though soft hands proved strong grips, with nails like claws – skin rips. She always said it was my fault. So I do as she says, repeat words that pass her lips in hopes that maybe this time she’ll loosen grips.

I learned to trust no hands, not even my own. As the most damage dealt was done alone.

time

We’ve walked the dark sides
of each other’s minds
and came out with cobwebs.
Shed blood through our
blade wielded words.
Which left stains
in form of memories
that are only reminders
of the pain we’ve caused.
You taught me how to
spit venom when I talk
And I showed you that
there’s power behind
syllables and rhyme.

In the end,
I was less vulnerable
and you learned to speak your mind.

The only thing I wish we had..
was a little bit more time

shitty heartfelt rambles via text 

she had left me with nothing more than a 
t-shirt and shitty heartfelt rambles via text. nothing to remember her by other than the burning taste of whiskey and cigarettes. I switched to the brand she buys so maybe the scent of stale smoke would help it feel like she was still there. the taste is something I can’t stand but it’s no worse than the taste of loneliness she left me with. I can’t stand the smell of whiskey but each drink reminds me of those drunken nights we spent together. always ended up in her bed, but gone before noon. neither of us would say anything as we wouldn’t see each other soon. she got sick of me. she told me she wouldn’t but they always do. empty words spoken through believable lips. each phrase feels like poison in my veins, yet I keep rereading them. for pain is all she left me with, and my lungs can hardly breathe. at least this way I’ll remember her, and have some sort of relief. maybe it was less about love and more about aggression. all I know is this came with no lesson. left with hatred and a hollow heart where her name used to be. now filled with a false sense of security due to my whiskey filled delusions, about how now I’m set free. as hard as I try, no degree of intoxication could convince me that I’m fine.

after all, it was my fault. you were never even mine.

she was always my type 

When we met, I was warned
Yet you weren’t my type so I took that warning lightly
You weren’t my type,
yet I’ve held on tightly
When you walked away the first time,
I repeated,

You’re not my type

Thinking that I’d be able to let this go, without a fight
But you were right
You’ll fall in love with me,
you said that night
You were right

Now all I think of is the way your eyes danced in the light
How I tried to hurt you due to spite
The times I tried to cause a fight
In hopes instead of walking away
You’d ask me this time just to stay

You were right
You were right
And now I try to keep my love at bay
For you didn’t stay
And I’m left feeling as though
my heart’s astray

it was never real.. was it

The memory of you is a soft yellow hue, meaning somewhere in the pain and suffering you’ve brought comfort. Unfortunately, the yellow has been burning blue. Like the flame in my chest that has always been for you, too hot to touch but that’s something I knew. 

I knew you would go, I knew it too well. That’s something I learned long before I fell. Falling for you was like a soft landing view on the pillows of your bed when I held onto you. I desperately want to create more memories with you, but you’re gone.

You’re gone, you’re gone. 

Almost as though repeating it will drive the thought through my head. Yet I always set myself up with hope and am met with disappointment when I’m left with the realization that I’m always alone. I’ve always been alone. You’re something I’ve conjured up in hopes of being real..

When the only thing that’s real about this is how much you’ve made me feel.

it’s been a while

your skin smells of familiarity

a sense of safety returns as I reach my hand across and wrap around you as your body lays intertwined in bedsheets

as we curl up in the dark, slowly diminishing any space between us, nights of whiskey-filled laughter and sweet-intention-filled kisses seep into my mind

running my hand along your arm, reminding me of those night I would kiss you as you slept

though this time my lips never touched skin

we just lay there, bodies intertwined
we are no longer what we once were
we are no longer those people
you never were mine
but in this moment

I feel your love fill my heart for the last time