I know you had scatty tendencies that’s the london in you,so as you inhale this sense of being better, remember that with them Marlboro sticks I inhaled and you exhaled, the same smoke, skinny,
Skinny Girl, the mountains that we’ve climbed that isolate us, climbing from two people who could have been to becoming a story that seems to have already passed, the continued miscommunication that seems to define who we have become, it’s like a collection of lies, except they seem to have come true, I told you the story of a lonely star and yet here I am in my own bubble sinking deeper and am drowning in the eventful mature of what my life has actually become, you rolled your eyes when I was busy telling you how i didn’t seem to care, now your eyes roll when I emphasise how much I care and how present I really am, but I guess this is a table of ghosts and I sit in the iron throne alone, cos all the insecurities are gone, and am exactly who I said I’d be, nineteen,nineteen that number holds so much value in this game of thrones, since you been nineteen I’ve been meaning to silence my lips and land a kiss in our collarbones, now at nineteen I let you cut yourself off the messages I let you see on my phone, you poured emotional poison in my drink and lit my cigarette, euphemism for the self loathing and heartbreak that not only marred but like the omnipresent saddened undertone in Picasso’s blue period, I become the chords that accompany the sad lyrics I wrote in these endless late nights, my brain is most awake sunset and sun rise, and at 2am when my brain would rise out of the indica induced slumbers you’d be on my mind, but even now 4am and my mind is stuck on you, my cassette is broken so the Walkman plays stuck on you,
my heart been stuck on you,
But I refuse to lose my love for you,
Till I know Ive made it to who you’re supposed to need,
So that when I leave the silence no longer drives you insane, it encompasses all the crevices of your mind thy aren’t bleached in traces of me,
So that your mind learns what it’s like for someone to infatuate you so much your mind can’t move an inch without touching upon a piece of them
(Written and submitted by @basquiat-martin)
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