Monday, April 23, 2007

The whore got what was coming to her: A not so indepth look at confusion and broken hearts.

One thing that keeps circling. I can't take off his sweatshirt. And why did I wear this today? This isn't at all how I pictured today. I wanted so badly to make things right. And why did I screw up like this? I've never felt quite this alone. Isolated. I should be able to run to you, but I know that I shouldn't -- that I can't -- because it's all my fault. The emptiness in his eyes. Because I cut out the feelings. Why didn't I stop it before it got this far? Dark corners and tears and I could hear his voice. How traumatizing that he walked right by the anguish -- radiating. How could something so safe hurt so bad? And why, god, why did he not stop to ask if i was alright? I've been craving his hold ever since he let go, and things were so distant. But I know it's all my fault because I just can't get the other out of my head, which shouldn't be so bad -- if I trusted you. It wouldn't be so bad, but all I can think to do is get on my knees and beg you not to leave -- like I've always been so afraid you would. And like he just did. Just promise, just promise, just promise, just promise, just promise, but what are those words, and, god, what is that stench? Motivation seems so impossible. How am I supposed to walk through halls and hear the laughter and be okay? How am I supposed to feel? Was it supposed to hurt like this? My eyes are so dry, so red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red marks. Is this what I resort to again, when I push all protection away? What is commitment? And why should I even ask at this age? This isn't supposed to happen now. I planned for this so much later, and I can't handle it right now. How is this my fault -- that you are too old for our age, and that I'm scared to death of losing you because I've never really had you till now? The waiting, waiting, waiting for what exactly? I'm never sure, but now it doesn't seem to matter so much. I was too afraid to jump into you, and now that his eyes don't keep me on the edge there's really nothing to do but fall and crash, crash, crash, crash, crash, crash, crash, burns, and cuts, and bruises, and the blood of so many nights ago. I can't believe I wrote him that note. And I begged, how pathetic. Begging. And he read, and he saw, and he knew, and he didn't care. He doesn't care. He stopped caring. And what the hell is love anyway? When he told me he loved me, what the fuck did it mean? And when I thought maybe I meant it, I guess I was wrong, wrong again, again for the thousandth time. What am I supposed to do? Snickers. I know they're there. And I know they think I deserve this all. How dare I hurt such a nice boy! They're all on his side, and I'm left in the halls at my locker. Oh, high school be gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone. Is this for real? Was it ever real? Is any of it real? Are you real? Are you worth this? Please, please please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please. Nothing makes sense. Please, please make it go away.

Monday, April 16, 2007

"You are my sweetest downfall."

Something so familiar can never look the same again. And the bed is only colder since you came and then you left. This burnt out candle on my shelf still carries your scent through the room. The smoke keeps pulling me back to the light, those sweet few nights when I was yours. And in the dark your touch is haunting me. Though it may be cold without you here, that's not what keeps me trembling. I cannot wait for your hands to still my shaking sense of pride. I cannot wait to look in your eyes and feel again that the world is mine. Oh, the blossoms smell so sweet in spring. On the edge of threatening heat, let us stay carefree until new winds force us all to hide. Just whisper that in the dead of winter when all the fruit is gone, you will miss the taste of me.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

"Can you taste the fear in her sweat?"

It wasn't that you left, it was that you wouldn't stay. The red light through the window reflected fears and hopes and wants and needs and a pathetic little girl who just can't fall asleep. But is it really her fault that her ego is too sensitive? Is it completely her fault that her pride so thickly covers her eyes and ears that the world gets distorted? After the red fades away, she will spot her star where she wishes for a night of safety. The coolness of your absence sends chills down her spine as she sings herself to sleep. She wrote a song for you, but you'll never hear it. Sound just doesn't carry that far.

Friday, April 6, 2007

Fluctuations.

It's still cold here, and with all the shivers, I still can't shake this feeling that it's not all as real as I'd imagined. When I feel the warmth on my cheek of a melted dream, there's no one here to tell me what color it is. Crystallized fear in the dark bathroom mirror has proved to be living inside you. Black and white is the game, but I'm living in greys, and they all point and accuse me of cheating. They just don't know what it's like to feel years of hope vaporized in a moment as small as the words that ruined it all for the both of us. This rhythm, it's just not mine. Oh, how hard must I hold on before I feel safe? How far will you run before I turn away and smile at my lonely reflection? I can touch you now, but you're still so cold. This isn't at all what you promised. When I pull away I can see the burns, but where is the heat? This chill must be somewhere deeper, so let's burn all the skin away until you see what it is that makes me this way. The purpose of your presence was lost last night. Your resistance to the past seems improperly proportioned to your love of the future, but where is the moment? You flicker, flicker, and I'm fading. These bugs on the shower curtain have more color than my eyes. Is that why real looks are so rare? I'm caught staggering through these catacombs of somewhere that I'm sure I was never meant to be. This place where I will never feel like enough. My frozen bones ache with every step that I take, but no one's here to carry this torch. You'd think that fire would be warmer than this.

Monday, April 2, 2007

Late night calls to answering machines.

Hello, you've failed to reach me once again.
Just press one to pour your heart out to nothingness.
I might get back to you in a year or so.
For now, can we just take this slow?

Hold please, there's someone on my other line.
Hang up to say I'm just not worth the time.
In the end, you'll find no number's toll free.
I hope you know you were important to me.

Goodbye, I'm on the run, you've crushed routine.
You can star sixty-nine, but I'm not receiving.
I've dropped this call, or so you could say.
For now, you're going to have to make it all okay.

We're so afraid of this new feeling rushing through our veins.
Hey, let's not get attached just to be broken.
Don't look, don't look at me that way.
Three words better left unspoken for now.