In theory, I never loved you. I loved us. That’s what everyone forgets.
January 2018
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You mistake tragedy for horror because no one likes true sadness.
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high tide and a dark mind
in and out of circles
in hellbent minds
i said
while the music played
and you spoke
as i began to say
we die in moments
to create a climax
of something worthwhile
and we walk towards stairs
to reach another level
we don’t wake for each other
we watch for ourselves
as our beings are lovely
in dire innocence
basking in sin
is something we commend
on other sides
of the world
in crevices of my mind
and i said
while you weren’t listening
but you talked on edges of yourself
and things we miss
we reminisce because
they’re all we told ourselves it would be
just us
and the sun of our setting
reaching coffee cups
in sideways kitchens
where conversations had endings
because the words were never met
by ears of another
so words which were said
were never said
but spoken in secrecy
like some settings
tend to be
in corridors of our minds
and lobes of our brain
in kitchen cabniets
where i spent my time
looking for words
in the darkest of places -
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You slip in night because darkness is a type of coldness. A temperature where you feel somewhat safe. By feeling safe, you feel like you. You blend in with the night causing your shades to become temporary enough to expose them.
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in sheets i lie
your bed at night
twisting in error
for emotions dipped in moments
bathrooms blotting eye lids
to feel myself tonight
in a mirror all alone
on ice cold marble
it’s nature, i told myself
but trees don’t form to hurt
darkness doesn’t void to horror
and truth in error
becomes a reality set in place
by words of men
in shadows of night
talking to skies
in starlight -
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And I touch. Not because I want to feel, but because I’m looking to see if this is real.
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I couldn’t sleep without you. Not because I needed you, but because your body was a temperature I was used to being next to.
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perhaps
we never fell in love
perhaps
i never met you
perhaps
this was all my imaginary
and the man i wrote
was too kind to find
and the dark of the night
made sense
and contents of us
were mere fairytales
from a boy
under his pillow
dreaming from 1991 -
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People take moments as if it’s their grand finale without the realization they’ll have a dozen other moments in their life better than the previous.
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I have drafts about your neck on my lips like a library has shelves. It was all in vain and you were all in my veins.