His voice was the saddest song I’ve ever heard until I saw him at 3 am begging to see me.
June 2019
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Read more: untitled post 112
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Read more: untitled post 113
I was nineteen. We were in your library, covered in sheets, seeking for something we both couldn’t have and seemingly, that’s where our love stemmed from. We make motions in men. I made moments in you. Moments I couldn’t have. Things which couldn’t make sense. I still hear the song in the background. The tiles of your bathroom. This wasn’t love. This was lust.
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Read more: untitled post 114
six years too deep
i feel you stumbling
in and out
as we echo in truth
sip our drinks to feel use
a sullen muse
i break and bend in a moments time
recall the coffee beans of tuesday morning
your knees against mine
the sheets upon i
with a touch i could feel
six years and i call
a man in sheets feeling for reason
your mind against mine
a mime in my life
your house with no rules
a couch with dents to prove
and i move in time
twenty two to twenty eight
a period of youth twined with intelligence
you were always just but
a darkened corner in a room
with thought
sentences i could break
your mind twined with mine
arms around mine
a cemetery which spoke
i scream your name in thought
but only you could understand
only this would make sense
your eyes with mine
legs against mine
a mind in july
you and i -
Read more: untitled post 115
i dance in thought behind sullen walls
to cross and break or peer from beyond of what it takes
to feel i fall for the devils i call
in my mind at night i dream to what it could be
and i would but i wouldn’t because what it takes is pure sanity
which is what i feel before i could breathe
your song in mind
we’re dancing and it becomes instantly fine
have you ever been touched by the darkness at night
when the shadows breathe and you’re suddenly here
before me at night in mirrors i look
they call it a reflection but i
can’t seem to find this person in mine
it looks all but lost
in darkness i call for thoughts which were
never here or never there
as you were standing behind your fireplace
looking out but never in this
direction i spent in your bed with alcohol ridden smell
you were nothing but
as we were all that it was
chapter seventeen in a book where pages never seemed
to be in order and lies you couldn’t see them
it was a hymn but in purgatory
words in pure honesty
and i still feel you
in the air at twenty-three
and in five years you’re dancing in thin air
on river lea
and here i stand in nineteen with pure sanity