Awaken for a price, my facial expressions are inked onto the cover of your magazine. My smile folds underneath its weight, pressing for your skin, as my laugh speaks of the love I just dealt, for the change I now keep.
I don’t have the time in me anymore to: add, subtract, multiply, or divide my way into your brick wall. Go bury yourself my Fortunato, and then call me like you do, when you realize that you want back in.
Yes, I’ll be there, bloody knuckles and all(more). I might even be there with some words of my own, ready to say that I am slowly learning to leave you out.
That sometimes when one’s heart begins to itch, it would be wise, to start from scratch. (less)
Outside the moon fought to find its favorite star. I held it in my pocket, borrowed it, only to store it in a black box. Yes, I was going to propose to you on that night. But I swallowed my words when your green eyes turned to me and said, “I’ll(more) never be perfect again.”
What the fuck does that mean?
But I knew. Life had given you only a handful of moments worth remembering. And here I came, built to be greedy.
Oh, most of my friends don’t need to write. They see the world as it sees them. But you, you slow dance to my words as though your abuse finally has an author. And I knew then, as I know now, that I’ll never write a novel because in your world I’m your most complex character.
That night, as the diamond ring cut against my thigh, your green eyes found a moment to pause and stop, reminding me, that this isn’t my story. (less)
This morning my wife pressed herself against me. She whispered in her secrets. At first I heard my faults, but then I opened my eyes, and I saw that she was really telling me hers. I told her to stop; I know where that road leads. But she didn’t. I(more) found my hands tracing her freckles, trying to erase those permanent tears. But I can’t be her yesterday. And god forbids I meet her father, for hideous will the stars be at the tip of their vengeance that even the moon will drink to our darkness. (less)
Don’t you think, there's something out there, that makes me wanna stay here longer? That I’m laughing and laughing, but ending in here is not how one writes their happily ever after. Don’t you think? Oh, don’t you think, I really don’t think so. We’re laughing and laughing, but the(more) minute you open the door, we’re shivering, and that cold is everlasting.
Skates meet the ice but divorce brings those cuts spring calls sunshine. Kid’s line up for the colors until the vendor sells out on the taste. Yeah, the sun is out. Are you ready for it?
Seattleites supply the world with coffee but their names remain thirsty. Onl(more)y the sun quenches. Our demand puts our shades on and blocks out the gloom that once rocked our socks. We switch to sandals and attack the pavement with a new arsenal of rhythm and laughter.
Umbrellas once sold, now get returned for some faucets. We turn them off, turn them on, roll the slip n slide out, and uncover the hope at the heart of catcus. (less)
I brush my teeth, style my hair, and I straighten out my tie, but the mirror just reflects a victim. I withdraw my eyes from my history, leaving my ghost as my only witness. The faucet spots my gravity and drowns it with hot water. I pick myself up and(more) splash my soul back all over my face, but when I look up I find that I’m one still shattered. My childhood just keeps running down my cheeks these days. Maybe I should use cold water? I exit. My ghost still remains, while my soul drives to today’s 9 to 5 battle. I hope my wife can read the message when she exits the shower, because I was once here, and I was once there, not now I’m just fogging up for attention.
I just got back from a vacation, only to wake up next to you. Cold breath, coffee breath, finally out of breath. The sun is out. Hurray. Now we have a reason to rain words upon each other and then cool off just in time to notice that when(more) we hold hands they choose to miss out on the tan. That is us, after one year, but together we are our home. I’m just not sure how this black bar stays over my mouth, and I can see that you must be swallowing glass because you tend to mumble sharp truths when it counts. Yet, somehow we always seem to find our silence. And when you read my eyes, I can see the love in yours, looking for ways to spell it out. And I know. Foolish of us to say anything when everything is waiting to explode. Our relationship is all about putting the pin back in a grenade, understanding that our magnetism just causes explosions. Sometimes it's better to not speak at all if you can't handle the pieces. (less)
Tonight I looked up. My moon was too drunk and ended up sneaking into his bedroom. I hold my breath but can't seem to find a tunnel that will shorten my suffocation. I know of a fountain, but when it dines with pennies it parties itself dry. So I(more) spot a star in the distance and aim to shoot it down with precision. But I know that my wishes will miss it on purpose, for stars by law, are destined to die twice. Tell me then, why I should lend my weight to kill a star, when it’s already carrying yours? (less)