thought i was depressed,
turns out im just unimpressed.
He finally got inside of me.
I became necrotic.
Is that what you call erotic?
Haven’t heard from him since..
Is how I’m feeling neurotic?
Decaying my mind and clinging to lies
But the problem was never me,
It was the lack of depth you had inside
I miss you
And the phantoms of the kisses you’ve left on my lips.
And the shadow of all the hand prints
Left from on my body from your grip.
With your lustful touch,
And your gentle fuck,
The ways you made my body swoon;
Ecstatic rifts that filled the room,
floating from the twin sized matress on your floor.
Out through the cracks of the bedroom door.
But before I allowed myself to adore,
As you slept,
I got dressed,
And out I’d sneak once more.
theres a sadness welling inside of me that disguises itself as apathy.
I always remember that I can never truly trust.
every ounce of unabashed love I’ve ever harbored has begun to rust.
I’m covered in dust that I brush off by laughter, but I’m unable to reach the ever-darkening corners in the room that is my consciousness.. that continues to spread as if it were mold. It eats at me gradually, leaving a residual pain accompanied with every fond memory.
is it maniacal laughter or an attempt to stuff away the pain?
Is it silliness or is it an escape?
It’s a fight you can only stand up against if you’re ready. Sometimes, you’re not even ready. You sleep on it, fumble with the idea. but you’re just not quite ready to be finished with chasing that thrill. Who is? It never stops feeding some sort of satisfaction, but you’re just quite tired of your actions. you’ve grown quite weary..of the lies. and the apologies.
Change is happening, in a slow, insecure, way. and often change comes just like that, life has shown me. I’ve had to learn that making change often doesn’t feel like paving the way. But more like turning left at the intersection instead of right, and making that a permanent fixture in your journey.