I can’t believe drawing a black line across my eyelids makes me feel 10x prettier.
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Put your lips against mine
We can’t heal our scars
But we can try
Rosy tongues and dirty thighs
Tiptoed thoughts
Questions why
Put your lips against mine
I know you can’t fix me
But we can try
You only love me at night.
You only love me when the moon is up. When it’s time to go to bed but we both want to stay up and text each other.
You only love me when my hair is curled and black eyeliner is drawn on my eyes.
You only love me when it’s chilly outside and the sun isn’t beating down on our backs.
You only love me when I seem unattainable because it’s so late and I can’t remember my own name.
You only love me when it’s dark enough to put your hand on the small of my back and I’m too surprised to do anything about it.
You only love me after a long day - when we’re both lonely but I don’t let it show.But when the sun comes up and my hair is pulled back and my makeup is smudged under my eyes,
When it’s warm outside and I’m available and I can remember my own name,
When it’s light outside and everyone can see your hands,
When we wake up and I want to text you but you don’t want to respond,
When it’s the beginning of a new day and we’re both lonely but you don’t let it show.
That is when you don’t love me.
That is when I’m nothing to you.
And this back and forth, day and night, is sucking the life out of me.
Maybe time’s not moving,
or maybe I just forgot how to count again.
When I swallowed down my monsters,
they undressed my bones for me.
When I kissed the sun,
she told me to go back home.
There is always time for burning later.
On your best days,
you’re still a little bit in love with him,
aren’t you?
It’s okay,
the forgetting comes eventually.
I painted a black hole across my ribs
and my heart found its way through.
Every moment since has been a failing magic show,
trying to make what was lost reappear.
But maybe it’s not really failing.
Maybe it’s just coming back slowly.
When the floors started boiling,
I stopped soaking my feet in them,
and even on my worst days,
I am proud of myself for that.
Maybe I lost what I lost to make room
for everything that is coming.
Maybe all this time,
it has been on its way.
The past is the past and I’m letting it kill me
My ninth grade biology teacher taught me that some trees need fire to survive
and so maybe it’s okay to burn down sometimes,
when he says he’s leaving and your hair catches fire from the tip of his cigarette,
when things fall apart and your bones smoke through your skin,
when harsh words blaze your throat
and growing up goes up in flames
and your eyes are ablaze
and you’re choking on black smoke
and you can’t get out of bed because your body is dusted with burns
you’ll always survive,
put yourself out,
you need fire to grow.
I am at my loneliest when I have something to celebrate
and try to share it with those I love
but who don’t love me back.
There’s always silence at the end of the phone.
I’m so distant from people
these days that I don’t think
my tired heart is capable of
loving something other than
the burning sting of alcohol
anymore. Baby I know you
see stars in my eyes but trust
me I’m a black hole that’s
burning out faster than the
last summer days and when
the clock strikes midnight
I’m all messy thoughts and
crimson tear stains. You’d
better stay away from fire
when your skin is paper
thin and I’m up in flames.
Sometimes the most broken
people smile the brightest and
lips lined with desperation go
unnoticed like the midnight
rain. You say you’re in love
with damaged things but I
don’t think you know the pain.
You’re looking for a poem to tell
you why your heart is broken
into every piece. You’re looking
for someone to compare all the
ways he didn’t love you to a rose
and how even when it turns
black with death, it’s still lovely.
There aren’t words that will
make your phone’s silence
easier, trust me. You’re alone
tonight and he’s probably
thinking about someone else;
there’s nothing poetic about that.
