and just like that,
everything turned upside down again.

shiny new

there's something really powerful to be said about being able to feel your nervous hands, fumbling words, muted laughter, tangled sheets, and good morning kisses.

and i'm so lucky to be able to feel those things again. :)
i'm playing it as safe as i can and trying not to rush into things (which is probably the worst habit i have)
but there's just something endearing about him that makes me smile.

emptying out my pockets

its weird how this has all come full circle. i used to despise you for being such a pretentious asshole and now here we are again.

i can pretend like you never existed in my life. i never wrote about you, never waited for the fall into your arms.

you are the pages in my story that get cut out.

and if i pretend like i never loved you,
it'll mean you never hurt me.

i won't apologize. i won't apologize. i won't apologize.
i want apologies.

i hope she can taste it when you kiss her with a tongue full of lies.

actually,
i hope you spit them out first.
i'm fine with being the girl you screwed up with. but let's not carry over this behavior, eh? she'll never know what's coming.

progress

god. i'm losing track of time. even worse, losing sleep.

how long has it been since i felt like a complete human being?
this is way more torturous than it should be.

my heart is still sewn to the inside of your shirt. you can go ahead and mail that back now, please.

maybe i don't need it after all. feel free to let the ashes of your cigarettes cover it, the rings of your empty beer bottles stain it. it'd feel too hollow in my ribcage anyway.

i think i'm becoming an automaton.

mementos

i suppose i shouldn't expect you to read this. and since you won't, i suppose i shouldn't ask you for an explanation either. what would i do with one, anyway? it'd just be one more thing to hold against you, and i've got my pockets stuffed with things already. it wouldn't be so bad if i had just learned to burn the bridge the first time. but you know, hindsight is 20/20 and all of that. i'm sure these feelings are going to fade just like all the ones before you have. i learn to swallow them down and ignore the echoes they make when they bang against my espohagus. i'll get to the place that when i close my eyes while he kisses me, i won't try to conjure up your face any longer. pretty soon, when he wraps his arms around me in bed, i won't pretend their yours. i'll get over all of that.

but for now,
i'm back to being that girl you found on the bathroom floor. that day was really it for me, you know? when i knew that i felt safe in your arms and that your words were all it took to keep my head above the water. your words, the words and the arms that ultimately would break this thing wide open. and still i'd crave them, as i do now.

if only i just knew why.

but mostly i hate how much i miss you.

not to sound trite,
but i fucking hate you.

the splinter

i can hurt like a splinter
in the palm of your hand.
a foreign invader who just loves to be
under
your
skin.
your hands
your palms
not holy palmer's kiss any longer,
they feel rough with secrets
and upon closer inspection
i see millions of the little things.
slivers of wood encased in the spiral of your fingerprints.
all tiny reminders,
pinpricks of warning
These hands are not clean! These hands, they betray!
you touch everything
with the tenderness of guilt
afraid it might dissolve under the weight of your
gently mocking fingers.
and i can be the dull ache of one of those
splinters.
i can be the silent pulse of pain when you
dig it out of the wreckage of your hand.

and i'll take a part of you with me when you flick me onto the ground
and return to your wooden ship.