It didnt matter that the sky above us was exploding into a myriad of colors. I could not hear anything but his laugh, I could not see anything but his smile. The beautiful lights were nothing like the twinkle in his eyes. Everything was magical and mesmerizing, and like us, over too soon.
Tonight, the bartender asked me “what’s your poison?”,
and I wanted to respond with your name.
But the truth is, they have yet to learn
how to bottle love, how to create a drug
that’s potent enough to mimic the intoxicating
addiction of another person’s heart,
beating in time with yours.
So I will settle for a bottle of tequila for now,
and a hangover strong enough to help me forget
selected memories, even if only for a night.
There is nothing romantic about a love
that used to be, a love that happened,
and then ended, just like everything else
in the world. People often romanticize
tragedy, like the kiss that almost was,
the “maybe” that could have been but
will remain a “what if” forever. There
is nothing beautiful about something
that once was, but died. Ended. Failed.
I don’t know how much
longer I can sleep in a bed
where the left side is cold.
But every night, I follow you down
the path to my dreams, where my
heart feels whole once more.
And as time pulls me back
to the morning light,
I watch these old wounds
bleed all over again.
If tears were balms,
I would’ve healed by now,
and I could finally give you a name.
I would call you my downfall,
my regret, my love.
I’m immune to the
cacophony of closing
doors and fading steps.
It’s the silence that
I can’t bear, the stillness
*Double Haiku: cacophony
For day 7 of #augunfiltered
Remember the last time we were together?
I didn’t want to take any pictures
of us because I didn’t want to have
anything to remember you by. It’s not
like it matters. I wouldn’t have a
reason to show it to anyone except to say –
this is what my heartbreak looks like.
In my mind, I like to think of him
as “lost,” because his body is not in
my bed. I know, I know, it doesn’t
work that way. The memories
of him don’t fade in the way
consolations like to tell us –
“he is always there, in your heart.”
Because good god, it is a burden
to know that he lingers, when
I would rather lose my body too,
if it meant it did not ache for him.
Also for things you want to say to an ex
For day 5 of #augunfiltered
They say it takes 21 days
to break a bad habit, yet
here I am, on day 202, my
mind and my heart are still
convinced that I need you.
202 days since I told you to
stay away from me, and I’ve
regretted it every single day.
202 accounts of whiplash,
of missing you like oxygen.
202 days of wishing I’ve never
had you. Then I wouldn’t be
reminded of you every time
I touch someone else.
I have made a sport out of confusing
the chronology of discovering you,
forgiving you, anticipating you,
and forgetting you. I have to accept
the fact that it’s over, and it’s time to
stop dragging your shadow like a
carcass around my shoulders,
thinking you’re still with me,
when you’re just a living memory,
still attached, umbilical.
Tell me again how you
are all jagged edges and
shattered glass, squeezing
every ounce of my fire,
bleeding lies and refracting
light, beautiful to look at
but impossible to trust.