downwiththefuckingship:

it’s awkward but we’re here now. how we made it to this juncture is a journey no one would want to hear a story about. let alone read a poem. people wanna know how the wheels fell off. what it feels like watching someone wearing a brown paper crown pick my “i miss you’s” out of their teeth. i’m used to watching girls leave like clouds of sparrows. it’s the reason i listen to songs on repeat until i cannot stand them anymore. you love attention. who doesn’t?
you told every restaurant you went to that week that it was your birthday. you came for the cake. for the singing. i sang. you love to make portmanteau out of any two things that touch. the blessed accident. us. now i just want to lazarus my way out of here like a divorce lawyer on wedding day. you and your haymakers. the last poem ever written to the ocean. you know i tell my friends your love is camera shy. i’m lying.
a couple truths. black coffee is hot dirt.
you having feelings for me is kind of like the beginning to a book you know you won’t finish.
the sky has jaundice every morning. i’m always praying in this church of missing you. morpheus in my bedroom offering me pills. this love summed up someday by subtraction. it’s awkward decay. like- i saw you in the forest turning over stones. it reminded me of the jaws of life. the way fog hangs on a road. the texture of melancholy. how i keep a note in my pocket that says “tell them i’ll be fine.” something about a town called love and hitting all the red lights on the way there. something about how she put two fingers to her lips the way someone would if they were going to wet them to put out a candle. like she had been putting the lights out of me forever.