I now know what it’s like to bite tongues that aren’t my own
Leaving fresh wounds,
Tasting their blood
Is better than my own
I clung to her clothes yet when she came there’d never be anyone home
I knew what it was like,
Maybe that’s why
I thought I deserved to feel what they did
To feel chased with no intention of slowing down
The feeling of freedom,
While passing my hand through her hair
I was never truly there
But it was nice to feel wanted without wanting
I let him get close, kept him near
In case I stumbled too far I wanted someone to lend an ear
This time it was me who didn’t say hi,
I didn’t say bye either
I just watched as she tried to reach through my barriers
This was something I watched you do and I was envious of the inaccessibility
Now I’m inaccessible
I’m not sure if this is what I wanted
But in the end, it’s better than being forgotten


I can’t do it, I’m sorry

I crave love.
The thing about cravings
is that I deliberately have taught myself not to self-indulge.

Some twisted form of self-inflicted pain.
When sweet words seep through their lips, I run like a forgotten faucet.
I run until I’ve run out of room, spilled over counters. I ruin anything within my grasp, which is why I avoided you.

I didn’t want to soak your love-filled bedsheets with my ink like words. I didn’t want your memory of me to be a dark stain that you couldn’t get out, no matter how many times you try to scrub it.

I’m tired of being the story behind new bedsheets

which is why I can’t love you,

 I’m sorry