11-9-16
I like to think of the places collecting in my city, anywhere from Fifth Street, to Nanny's old house to empty hotel rooms to dad's. Places existent and nonexistent. I've got everywhere to go, I shouldn't feel lost. It's an aerial view, and sometimes I wonder what flying would really feel like. I want to feel the wind in my teeth and the stars on my skin, is that too much to ask?

Hold onto me because without you, I don't have much left that's stuck through it all, and that's a scary reality. It's hard to come to terms with loss, but I think I'm sick of talking about it. My life is moving on, it wasn't the end.

The doors are slamming and things feel quiet,
But the thoughts are loud,
When they ask what happened,
Tell them the jealousy made me do it.
I killed a part of her because she had too much.
(She don't know how bad it is, she don't know what I put in it to get here)
I wonder if this was supposed to feel good,
Was I supposed to be satisfied with
Snapping her trust?
(Didn't have much of it left, don't worry)
You see, breaking you doesn't give me the cities in your head, either,
And I'll paint it out like the blood is on your hands
But I know, this one time,
It wasn't your fault.
(The demons would've eaten you alive,
It wouldn't have been worth it.
And maybe it wasn't my fault... new concept.)
Second isn't a number I like,
And she does things in threes but she seems to be first.
(In so many aspects, I wasn't. if only you saw the other side)
I see her pain, I see it because it stained my carpet
And I reject it a lot these days,
Because it's easier to act like she destroyed this, too,
And I know she believes it.
I don't talk about what we lost,
I don't talk about the loss at all,
All of this hurt is my fault.
But I'd never admit that to her,
I'd never come to terms with it,
Not until it's too late,
But with her, it's never too late,
But I wouldn't know that.
When was the last time I read a poem of hers?
When was the last time I knew she hurt constantly?
When was the last time I felt the truth in her words?
When was the last time I saw how gracefully she destroys,
How easily she loses it all,
How darkly she feels.
When was the last time I got out of this ignorance?
And when the demons collect on her shoulders,
Sink into her pretty collarbones
(The amount of times I've wanted to just break those bones like they're brittle),
Hang around every fucking poem she writes so beautifully,
Swim through those stupid eyes that get the word "yes" every time,
When they ask what happened,
When they ask why she's different lately,
Tell them the jealousy made me do it.
Blame it on that.
I know they'll ask.
(They wouldn't care, you don't know these things like you think you do)
-(m.m)

The parentheses are from my perspective

Late update

I'll work on something tonight I love you