I’m so used to writing out of sadness, that I’m unsure how to write about you. I’ve written about dark places and empty faces. How ex-lovers stripped colour from my world like I was nothing more than a scrapped canvas in their art exhibit. I’ve found difficulties in wording how you’ve slowly brought it back. That with each kiss on my lips placed by yours is filling each blank space in my heart like watercolour, bleeding love into every crack.
When one is so used to finding beauty in darkness, they’re often blinded by the light.
I have not and never will be the girl of your dreams. There will be days when I will hardly be your girl at all. That’s why I tell you that I’m no good because I want you to know it.
It’s not because I will not love you nor is it because I will leave. It’s because I may hold your heart too tight and crush it without notice or care. Or sometimes it will seem like I was never even there. I have a tendency to burn myself by holding flames that should never have been lit in the first place.
I have burns in places that are scarred memories of the time I let myself burn where memories had withered, yet I stood until I was nearly ash.
Please believe me when I say that I will not leave you. That is to say that when I do, it’s not because I did not love you. It’s because I loved you more than myself and did not want you to know me anymore than you do now.
I am no good. I am afraid to love you as your smile screams to me like gasoline and I’m an untamed flame waiting for a spark. Your heart burns like a candle wick and I’m just looking for a reason to see in the dark.
I’m not sure what happened,
but somewhere along the line our nothing became something to me.
the worst part about that is
now every fibre of my being is screaming to run,
to ruin it.
it’s screaming that it’s one-sided.
my heart is bursting into flames,
yours is trying to pour cold water to douse me with pain.
that I’m preparing myself to run into a brick wall again,
and soon enough I’ll be covered in bruises.
I didn’t want this to be anything,
and the problem is that it isn’t anything.
my heart has tried to plant its roots in your garden
while yours is trying to pick me out like a weed.
and my mind is saying
to stop trying to grow with you because
I’m not a flower you’re willing to feed.
though I’m unsure if my mind is playing tricks again,
and I’m not sure if you’re just a friend.
the worst part?
I don’t want to ask,
because frankly.. I’m scared to be right.
when they said his name, I didn’t think of the way his hand touched mine. for a second I forgot about the words I spit from my mouth when his tried to taste my tongue. no, I thought of when he spoke your name and asked what I saw in you. I remember that night you kept me safe when his hungry eyes saw me as nothing more than a mouse to chase. I may not remember that night, but I’ll never forget that in my darkest hours you were my light. I was the match and you were my flame. now you’re nothing but a burned out wick and I’m smoke in the wind. memories of us have began to fade but I’ll never forget how we burned together.
dear god, we could have set the world on fire.
i am a burning fire, flames run through my veins. he is a sea with eyes as blue as the tides that has settled the forest fires that began burning holes through my skin. with him i am as calm as the smoke that rises through these lungs. with each wave that washes over me when his lips touch mine, i am fine. dear god, i am fine.
We were so excited to spend fall together. You were going to play me songs on your guitar aside bonfires in your backyard, while I sit curled up beside you in your hoodie.
You promised me we’d have a candlelit bath and drink cheap wine, because you know how much I loved both.
We were supposed to spend Christmas together and watch movies, those stupid ones that everyone watches around the holidays. I do it every year, and you wanted to make me smile.
None of those actually happened. You even told me you’d spend my birthday with me.. but when the time came you were nowhere to be found.
Its almost summer now.
And now you’re not even around.
Isn’t it funny how things work out?
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 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…
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.
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