mort.

i watched you almost die so many times.
you’ll never remember how much i cried.
but you recovered through and came back to
and decided that i wasnt good enough for you.

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2013

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.

bursting

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?