11/21/16
It’s been awhile.
You met him 3 days later, no idea of the joy and havoc your love would wreak. A beautiful chaos, a burning desire to monopolize. He was your everything, if only for a while- and still it was worth everything.
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@wheremybonesrest
11/21/16
It’s been awhile.
You met him 3 days later, no idea of the joy and havoc your love would wreak. A beautiful chaos, a burning desire to monopolize. He was your everything, if only for a while- and still it was worth everything.
trip out of town
Tumbles & Falls
And for us, it was two people falling down the rabbit hole.
Tumbling one foot after another, eyes flitting and nervous laughter filling the space between our skin.
11/21/16
It's been awhile.
A Limerence with Abuse
Maybe it was the way you liked your drinks. Iced and cheap almost as if sandpaper was running down your throat. I always liked a man who held his liquor but 7 months in I realized you couldn't even grip your temper. You'd grab my wrists; you'd say you love me. I'd cry in the bathroom, you told me to shut up. On the nights you'd empty syringe tubes into your arm, I hid my heart on my sleeves because .6 oz shot glasses replacing your blood with whiskey cheaper than your words would almost make me forget that you’re the one I'm supposed to love with, not this bottle. The purple bruises you left blossomed over my thin wrists and grew into a spiraling garden of purples: lilacs, iris’, tulips. And even after you ripped off my petals, we both knew I wouldn't move my face from the dirt it was smothered in, even if I tried. You dug my grave and left me under my own flowers. I have never found death to be so beautiful until you came along. -m.vt
When we kissed, I didn’t realize the color of love was so black and twisted until I opened my eyes and saw yours looking back into mine.
What we did & the regrets
stop rotting my teeth whenever we kiss. stop burning cigarettes and love letters I write you only because you like how it makes you taste like smoke and sweets.
I’m starting to hate the cavities you’re leaving.
and if no one imagined all the complexities, all the imperfections in this life staring into our in eyes, how can we expect to pass a meaningful, no, enticingly correct judgement upon others? Aren’t we humans clouded in our minds by the blooming poison of what we call “home”? the luxuries of advancement or the dematerialization of the developing mind; the latter to the second is a tepid decision. if chosen, should we not therefore strive to learn the basic necessities of survival rather then depend on expendable products? Unknowing of North, West, East or South can metaphorically leave ones sense of direction, being, and soul lost in limbo. If chosen, and extended to this point by acceptation of the masses, are the people still able to consider themselves “living”? Routine is a breakless cycle. But in regards to routine, isn’t it inevitable? aren’t we all in some cosmic plan to replay mistakes and create temporary promises over and over? up there above the atmospheres fuzzy glare, is there not a bearded God observing our every breath? why do humans excusably need (to the point of death) religion? into closer evaluation, isn’t religion simply a way of negating the truth (truth being a painfully ominous inevitability)? To fill the unanswered question of death, do humans not seek, search, and die to feel like there will be something after their biological clock stops ticking? what else does religion offer besides a false reassurance of the black that accompanies eternal slumber? or Is death perhaps an already experienced event? could I, we, you, be dead? what makes this reality any more real than what we see in our dreams? this reality, this experience, is it truly what the ignorance of humans believe? The cycle through death, life, and the extremities residing between, could it really all be some cosmic mans plan? who could really say.
when i was younger my momma never told me to play with fire but i always loved the way the flames warm your skin when it's cold, dark and desolate outside. i guess in a way, you became my warmth when i needed it most, when i thought i was going to coalesce into the cold blackness that stuck to my heart like knives.
but now, there's bloody, dull scars wrapping over my body and the heat from the fire has singed all the hairs on my head. i guess i never thought i'd get burned from the thing that was keeping me so warm. you.
maybe I’ve always loved the way you’re teeth sunk into my skin, or how it burned marks into my bones wherever your eyes grazed.
it’s 4 am and I still can’t forget you. maybe we were never meant to love each other.
morning coffee
did anyone ever tell you that
you’re like a cup of coffee that
spilled over the rim of the pot?
when I look into your eyes, all I see is a
black reflection of myself after the
nights when we’d argue over
worthless things.
you burn yourself onto my lips whenever
we touch,
your presence leaves a permanent stain
in my sheets,
I’m drinking you into my
Memories so I won’t forget us;
every morning I find myself addicted to your
bitter taste
& wait to be awakened by the
caffeine laced in your words.
even though you often pick on my
morning appearance
& it’s like every time I
try to kick this caffeinated habit,
your stirring around to laugh at
my junkie cravings.
- mhv
maybe he wasn't the right one, but that's okay//
texts to him//