If this is what you need, a life away from me, then I will be an ocean and slowly recede. I liked us better as parallel lines, never wasting each other’s time.
There were a thousand different ways to reach out and touch your hand. But I couldn’t find the nerve to act out a single goddamn one. In regards to the garden under your skin, what I’d give to cause your vessels to bloom.
Jupiter Jazz Pt. II
We ran until our legs gave out, drawing clouds of breath like children faking cigarettes. We talked until our lungs gave out, cheapening the taste with every noun that we chose to waste, when I should have kissed you right then. You placed your hand in my own, said, “This must be hell because it feels like home.” You won’t remember the weight; you made me fix a broken habit. Dress up all your wounds, wrapped in sheets like a tourniquet. I taste you like ash in my mouth. It’s the same way that teeth meet concrete.
I bit straight through my tongue and all I found were words I never had the heart to say. You wouldn’t listen anyways.
The Vine That Ate the South
Wear your failures every day. Carry them blood red upon your sleeve, past gardens where our bones will grow together, but still rest alone. Spend your days preaching to the dirt with sermons meant for deaf ears of the worms. Fall into this hollow earth, lowered by the hands of your birth.
Why Am I Still Plagued By You?
I will never be worth your time. I will never be your peace of mind. Still I look for you in places that you’ve never been. Tell me how this is fair. While you’re find warmth in someone else’s stare, I’ll let this rot and pretend not to care.
If the past is dead and gone and the future has never occurred then we glow like bad lanterns, ashen and burnt. Hung from old lampposts, barely lighting the way. But winter is coming and I am afraid. Leaving early, taking the long way home, I’ve never seen the streets so quiet and so still. You caught me with my stolen glances, second-guessing if what you found was real. I found beauty in this constant change, so no longer will our shadows violently trade shapes across lamp lit streets or through your darkest dreams. A separation born with distance in mind, there you’ll find me keeping old ghosts at bay, losing ourselves in who we were then and who we are today. I’ve fucked up everything. I see death every day; it’s in the leaves and in the trees. It’s in your constant hesitation and the way you look at me. I would have stolen the moon for you that night. Right hand to God, I swear I tried.
The wind through the trees sounds like waves and I wish you could listen. Leave your hope resigned. It’s 2 A.M
, we’re both awake but you’re not alone.
Death and Memory
Nothing can stay as long as you need it. We burn at both ends, painful and finite. Can you forgive a Sun that never learned to shine? Hang your head low, under a future you’ll never live up to. Instead it will haunt you. Can you forgive a son that never learned to shine? When we are gone, not a voice disturbs the water or a breeze on a silent coast. I’ll wear this noose. I’ll bear this vice. I’ll carry this weight for the rest of my life. I want to be buried. I want to be forgotten.
I’ll Be Seeing You
I found it there; connecting the marks on your left shoulder, right before the light repairs the fixtures that a moon once broke. “I’ll be looking at the moon,” but I lost it there; down past roses red on a Sunday drive: a constant study on why joy can’t stay in my life. If there’s a heaven in this hollow, don’t mourn the loss of flowers when Spring is soon to follow.