tyrants

an open letter to being the second choice

it's two in the morning and i know i'm wasting my time, although the months of pointless texts should've been a dead goddamn giveaway
should've, would've, could've - it's always fuckin like that with me, cause when's life ever fuckin easy?
but anyway, i'm still brimming with love for you - even though i've tried to burn it away a million different ways a million different times - i suppose it's a million and one failed tries. but maybe my heart's just not in it, it never really was for you either. you're just so simpatico, cept you only ever want me when you're dealing with love scars i never left and a head full of filth --
my teeth are aching with the sweetness of your skin, and the love i have for you is so full and desperate that i'm drowning in it. it seeps out from between my lips like froth, and i cover it up with lip gloss and by kissing it away with strangers under artificial highs. it's a sweet poison - the water that the boat i've named desire and heartache beats against; a death i'd die willingly again and again if it means i'll get one last glimpse of you
your eyes are brown - and i'm not even going to bother with that cloying bullshit about how your eyes house the setting sun because they don't - they're the color of home. the bittersweet color of what i'd imagine a falling out with someone you love looks like; familiar and despondent and comfortingly ordinary whilst horribly sad
the soles of my adidas sneakers are worn to hell, probably because of all the running i do from the truth - does it make me a coward if what i'm afraid to face is fear itself? fear in losing you, fear in losing myself in you
my throat's aching from when i choked down twelve grapes on the twelve strokes of the clock on new year's day for luck, except i missed the last one and was a second too late. i guess that's me in a nutshell - missed opportunities and the whole not good enough deal
my skin feels too hot and i itch to claw myself out of it - i think it's the weight of time and maybe the inevitability of it all that's pressing down hard on me. maybe i'm just tired - i'm tired of giving in to the ghosts that haunt me in my bedroom and in my daydreams. i'm tired of the guilt and the heartache that still makes me smile (because it's from you, and i love every gift you have ever given me)
i guess i'm just falling for you