Tag: spilled ink

i don’t know your face anymore,
it’s just a place i’m looking for.
some chemical’s breaking down the glue
that’s been binding me to you.
i thought love watched over this house,
but you’re boarding up the windows now,
and an empty house is not a home.

watch it all dissolve around you,
burning little holes in love.
drag your heart up to the starting line–
each heart a paper kite blown by the breeze,
love won’t rest till it brings you to your knees.

but the wind wouldn’t blow me home–
i’ve missed my turn, strayed too far
from the road.
i lost my heart, i buried it
too deep.

nothing comes easy to a cage like heart // a.s.m

the day you told me you loved me, 
i cried. because
if walking away without saying
a word
while I am telling you how
the darkest parts of my soul seem to be
black holes and 
they are sucking me in,
or ignoring me so you can
smoke weed and watch netflix
alone,
or saying I’m not a priority,
means ‘I love you,’
I am terrified that those 
three words define 
something that doesn’t actually
exist.

did it really mean anything? // a.s.m

palms to the sky
a patient sacrifice, i’m waiting for ink
to spill from my veins; to taste of something
other than you.

because i haven’t kissed you
in over two months, and yet
you are still in my bloodstream
somehow.
because every fucking poem, every song,
every sunset is about you and
i’m sick of going to sleep
praying for relief from thoughts
of your eyes, only to see them
in my dreams.

and i don’t understand how it’s fair that
you’re biting her bottom lip
the way i used to bite yours and not
thinking of me, and yet i am
hit with memories like rocks
to my temple,
sending my sandcastles
tumbling.

a.s.m

I was your shooting star: just
a bright wish passing by
to get you through a dark time. But
you are my moon, persistently
invading my
thoughts at night and burning
your afterimage into my
mind.

you never loved me, but my love for you is imprinted in my irises // a.s.m

You were only
the second person
I understood how to love. 
I was naive– I still hadn’t learned
that love isn’t
bleeding out onto the card table
and showing everyone your hand;
that in order to win, 
you had to bluff.

And I came in like a hurricane and
tore apart the small space
you had just started feeling like you could call home. 
I asked for a room– you weren’t sure
you had any.

But I made myself a copy
of your keys and slept
at the foot of your bed until 
you finally started leaving
extra eggs in the frying pan for me
in the mornings. 
But you never were one for routine. 

You were a runner,
you said. You didn’t like to stay still. 
You could find home within yourself but
were too scared to rent out property
in anybody else. 

I told you I was looking 
for a tenant. 

When I finally started making an indent
in your mattress, 
you locked me out. 

‘It’s too risky,’ you said, 
‘this real estate game.’

i just wanted you to want me, too // a.s.m

I will drive five hours in heavy weekend traffic
so I can see the way your eyes
curve into crescent moons
when you smile.

I will pick up that
ratty couch off the sidewalk
and put it in the trunk of my car
so I can see the gaps between your
teeth when you laugh with joy; 
even though I know
you’re going to put it in the basement and
forget about it.

I will hold your hand and take you
on hikes through tranquil forests
and let the wind infiltrate you
like a new spirit so you will laugh again,
with your whole belly, the way
you used to before him.

I will throw pebbles at your
dorm room window
at 2 a.m. just so you’ll know 
that even when I am awake
I’m dreaming of you, always.

I will slip love notes under your door
when you are not home, so
when you return, you’ll
have a reason to smile.

I will call you
when I know you’re busy so
I can leave a voicemail
telling you how wonderful you are; 
I will always be in your pocket
for you to listen to on days that
never seem to end.

I will buy you small presents for
no reason at all except that
they remind me of you; 
just the thought of
you is a gift to me. 

I will sit with you and hug you
when there’s nothing to say
because even your silence
takes my breath away.

If I love you, I will love you
fully, wholly, completely– with
my entire being, my entire
heart.

My god, if I love you, 
you will know.

and if you haven’t realized it by now, you’re a fool // a.s.m

My therapist once told me that overcoming an addiction is a daily battle: I will always crave a cigarette on my lunch breaks, and I will always instinctively reach for a razor blade when life is on overdrive. Every day is a war with my mind to not give in to itself. I wonder if it’s going to be like that with you, too. I wonder if every day I will fight not to pick up the phone just so I can hear your voice.

people are drugs, too // a.s.m

unless you’ve been there
when the world has knocked
me in the chest and released
the air from my lungs like a loose balloon; 

unless you’ve been there
to kiss away the memories i’ve 
etched into my skin, unless
you know my scars by name;

unless you’ve been there
to simply hold me when 
crying becomes like breathing and
i cannot remember how to laugh; 

unless you’ve been there 
to kiss me in the morning
after i’ve stolen the blankets 
throughout the night; 

unless you’ve been there
to call me the day after 
i couldn’t say a word, unless 
you’ve stayed through dinner
with my family, unless
you’ve stuck around even though
sometimes i scare you shitless;

unless you’ve kissed my forehead
after dining with me in hell, 
do not tell me
you love me.

do not tell me you love me if you haven’t seen the ugly // a.s.m

My mother warned me about drugs. 
She said I wouldn’t want to end up like 
my brother: rotting 
teeth, rotting body, rotting away
in a cell. 

My mother warned me about 
‘fair weather friends’; the ones that
only stick around when life is good: 
they’d get their nails
done at the salon with you, then 
stab you in the back with them 
the week after. 

But my mother never warned me about
the people who stick
with you through everything:
the ones you get addicted to,
the ones you think you need to keep
you alive when all you want to do is
rip your skin off.

She never warned me that
they were drugs, too.

She never warned me about how
they’d suck
all the strength out of you.

She never told me that
eventually, you have to fight
alone.

things my mother never warned me about: sometimes you need to fight alone so you can learn how strong you really are // a.s.m

i assured myself his eyes
would always search for me
in the cracks between the pavement
and his ears would listen for me
when the wolves
howled at night.
but now i know
he’s filled those cracks
with softer skin and
while the wolves
howl, his ears are full
of her laughter,
and so
it doesn’t
even
matter.
i am nothing
to him anymore.
and so a piece of me dies.
i am a little less
of who i was before.

does a piece of me die every time someone stops loving me? // a.s.m