you're imagining all the ways i'd ask for you back
i'm imagining all the ways you'd move on
d e v o n
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@listsforthefuture
you're imagining all the ways i'd ask for you back
i'm imagining all the ways you'd move on
flings
you could be the future, but
timing
distance
no
love completes strangers
love completes
love
her eyes made players husbands
her walk made husbands players
he aligned her bottles
she aligned his tears
when he was with her, he understood all those love songs
smiling in the rain, shouting from rooftops
she now knows why most love songs aren't about love
remembering, pleading
they're all about lost loves
you thought your love was special
most breakups happen on a monday
you broke up on a monday
you thought your love was special
You wear the mask of an asshole so well that people are starting to believe it's your real face.
But not me
I remember you
"Your ribcage is the jail that holds my heart."
That was a 1am text I sent to you.
I was stoned.
I'm not sorry.
The day he hit me hard enough
to knock me out
was the day she called the police…
At the police station
the officer said “Tell me what happened.”
and I started to relay the stories
of a broken girl
and fists and screams and violence -
The office interrupted me
and said “We’re not interested in that.
Tell us what happened today.”
At the end of the day
they said there wasn’t enough evidence
and they let him take me home again…
he's living like he's writing a novel
playing the role of a villain afraid of life
"I can live with my mistakes, my choices," he writes
"They've all led me to you."
he was the type that watched only highlights
he was the type that punched other men out of jealousy
he was the type that listened to sirens and knew where he was
he was the type to leave
Flowers grow backwards
Making the choice difficult
To eat the fruit or
Wait for it to bloom
his apartment checklist
hot water
cool dog
internet
Asian roommate that speaks a European language
European roommate that cooks Asian cuisine
cinematic quality of bedroom
i wanted to write a poem about the subways
our blue lines
how trains change in every city
the ends of handlebars at different heights
i wanted to write about how we don't really touch
the spaces between atoms do not allow it
i read that somewhere
between midtown and brooklyn
ignore my cruelty and anger
i am between phases
i choose you
we do so well apart
it's not real
every meeting is a honeymoon
it's not real
every goodbye isn't final
it's not real
when did you know
you wanted me
you didn't want the freedom of being alone