When you fall back into your seat of depression. I know that you will think of me. It will be nearly three in the morning, with a melancholy voice you will swoon aching feet into stumbling over to you. And I will be there, like I promised. You will reach for hands that have always been willing to recieve, to help,but today those hands will not be present. This day, I will push you back until your ankle reaches the back of those wobbly legs of the chair,that you hate so much. And I will reach over and buckle you in. The same way that you kept me. A seemingly unbreakable cycle of you singing me my favorite songs to sleep,holding my hand, the next day your angry shouts echoing against the walls, with the promising threat of another girl on your side. This time I will fasten the locks. I will not love you out of your pain again. I will make the seat more comfortable, I will furnish the wooden frame with your favorite sports team and add a plush for you to sit on. And I will play doctor. I want you to watch it all happen. I want you to feel every second of pain that I sat through with you and remained silent. I will be strong. I will wear a pocketwatch as a heart. I will wear armor on my body, like skin. I will learn how to play those songs, with a strained and creaky voice and I will sing, and stitch myself back to healing.
Tag: new
Ignition
You have put yourself up for demand
fiery aurora moving closer to me
like a challenge
you tell me that you like a girl who fights for what she wants
I swore to never get involved with someone like you
I’ve seen the damage of a smile like yours
noticed the way people vaporize you
but your flickering scent brought me back
I began chasing after you
no matter the harsh side effects
no matter how much it burned
because this dopamine is real
Wanting to be intertwined with whatever you’re laced with
But you’re treating me like a hallucination
like I am ‘just another addict’
raising the effect
changing the prices
moving your flames further away
my run becomes involuntary
I am on the edge of an overdose
recklessly popping the pills of you
wildly inhaling your words
like I’ve never been taught the importance of rations
like I’ve never seen sparks fly before
like I’ve never been taught the value of healthy lungs
We both know this is nothing rehab can fix
I am afraid that you like it that way
that you enjoy the affect that you have on me
No matter how much I try to detox
no matter how many other fires lite
stubborn moth to a wicked flame
I will always make my way back to you
Combination
we are gargling glass
disguised as curled feet in the rain
scratching matches onto broken strikers
forcing jumbo squares into triangles
we are the loose gaps and holes
of “Are you busy”
I suppose we missed the lessons
that you can not force tessellations
we are the missing pieces
that we try to fill up with “I am sorry” and “We are still learning”
and teenage desire
if you recite it enough
it will almost satisfy you
we are nerves
confused heartbeats
shaky hands
texting about the meaning of life at 1:29 am
we are stirring water and oil so passionately
to try and form something we thought we had memorized on our lips
we thought we double checked the ingredients list
we will just blame it on poor procedures
we are black ink tattoos and cement
never wanting to leave without a trace
but we do not realize what we had was irreversible
we make up months later with clear eyes
our night vision goggles aside
to see that we have cuts on the back of our throats
ink flowing in our veins
and excuses that no longer fit
The Unsealed Journal 