05.03.22
08:00
so instead, i leave the leather bound copy of my favourite book in your mail. i say that there is no time for us to waste, that i'm already wasted if you're not here, that i'm ready to skip to the end if i can skip this one ending. i draw your face on my ceiling and pray to whatever version of god listens to the eternal mourners and all my words play on repeat like a playlist on shuffle. i let yes blaze a path on my tongue, let it cut open my lips, slide down to the base of my throat and sit on my collarbones for your fingers to find. i write a poem and i don't lie. i write a poem and i write a hero and i write your name over and over and over again. i don't know how to say sorry but i've perfect the art of dying, so i do, hoping my ghosts lure you back home to me.
YOU ARE READING
words don't come that easy.
PoetryI've tried. but i've always failed to contain these thousand words in a few sentences, maybe im bad at expressing macro feelings in the few words that I'm limited to. you might think you know me enough because it's been a long time since i first wav...
