What parts of me do you like today
Today, where everything you say makes me laugh and my clothes show I tried but didn’t try too hard to look good for you Today, when we say goodbye and I pull you into me, wanting you, unafraid of feeling, so that you do not have to feel at all. And you do not have to be afraid
of losing power to feeling.
Which parts will you like of me tomorrow
When I am boring because you do not make me laugh
When I do not look good for you or anyone
When I am tired of pulling
When I am only ever unhappy
And when some days, no matter what you say, I will not want you.
I will not even want myself.
Which parts will you like of me
Do they only look like the parts that belong to you
When my things began creeping at the foot of my bed
I started keeping things by my pillow
And when I stepped off my bed the books I hadn’t read were stacked to my knees the letters friends had written me poked out underneath
My medals hung off the side of the wardrobe with the rosaries I kept in case I should believe
The rows of bottles I used to sustain myself collect dust
Half-checked to-do lists lie in wait
With this many fresh starts, my head begs for clear endings,
not the ambiguity of things, but the clarity of nothingness.
The day I emptied everything out I thought my house would look different
Thought if I expelled things and people that did not feel mine
I would be free
In the end all it is is space
And what if it never fills again
What if all that is left are walls
One day she’ll just get it.
She will get up and grab it
as if it hadn’t always been hanging thousands of feet above her.
She’ll get that the distance between her and what she wanted was
a mirror image;
and the speck in the reflection above,
made up of millions of forgotten pulsing particles,
She must act
She must act
She must act.
For every piece of her hums,
restlessly pulling her upward
to meet a surface where
she is realized.
I’ve forgotten every song I’ve ever loved the same way I lose the years I thought would always matter
The way I felt what I felt then doesn’t move me the same
We were all ignorant at those ages but everything I knew was the truth cuz
it was mine
I always thought that young meant stupid so when I was in pain I thought I was learning
and the stir in my gut couldn’t be real because how could I know without seeing it pulled out of me and laid on my lap, telling me what I would not confess
Cuz when things were good, they were perfect
And my heart moved quick as the sand that swallowed you whole in the movies
The movies I saw over and over thinking they’d one day take me in too
and I could swing on my rope over the land I thought I knew.
I learned that when they say nothing ever matters it’s very fucking true
Because even a heart ripped to confetti heals
and Time doesn’t stop when the clocks are broken
They say It stops for no one
Well then shouldn’t every minute of your own breath mean more then?
Maybe Time simply moves for everyone instead
August 23, 2017 11:26pm