The memory of you

In a city far away from home, in a room I don’t live in anymore, there is a cupboard with a drawer filled with your promises that I left behind. The homeless man outside our window, always high on acid constantly trips in a loop. Ask him and he’ll tell you its an image of you making me leave and me begging you not to do this.

əˈdɪkʃ(ə)n

You read that the buds dry faster in cool dark places, so you put my stories in a room built of lies. You filled it with songs that echoed hollow promises. You sealed the windows perfectly, no one on the outside knew. And when the room was ready, you invited another woman to switch off the lights.

The things I write about.

But if you catch hold of me in the dead middle of the night and cut me open, you will find a little girl that is questioning it all. Do I see you in the desperation of an addict? In the screams of a quite child?

Mamihlapinatapai

I told you my favorite part about a falling star is how graceful it makes endings look. That even though something so massive and so bright is over, the fact that it looked so beautiful happening was a true consolation. When I offered you three pieces of my heart, it didn’t look as beautiful. I…

The ocean of his love.

I liked to joke she was Jesus Christ and that love, was water.   Always walked upon but careful not to dip. I asked her why, she told me she was young once. Naïve once, that she would put on a cute little polka dot bikini and swim confidently in pools. That on Friday nights,…