Don’t Make Me Feel Bad For This

He’s all the art shows you didn’t have time for

He’s all the concerts you had no interest in

He’s every poem you couldn’t understand

He’s not you

And I will always love you

But he is him

And he understands every part of me that felt unloved while I was with you

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Shatter

I didn’t love him. 

But he loved the parts of me I couldn’t stand. 

So we played house 

Until I burt it to the ground. 

I Hope She Makes You Miserable 

Lipstick stained cigarettes and old bookshops will remind you of me even if you can’t remember what you’re remembering. 

Skin to Skin

He gently stokes the skin along my neck.

He does it in a way that was never meant to be erotic

but rather like a father trying to sooth his child to sleep.

He kisses the top of my head to remind me once again that he is here.

That I am here.

It’s easy to forget every now and then.

I press my head deeper upon his chest.

Here things seem slow and calm and real.

He moves his face toward mine and grazes his lips upon my forehead.

Then my cheek,

and pauses at my lips.

He glides his finger over my mouth and I pout so we’re closer.

Sometimes skin to skin still doesn’t feel like enough.

His lips meet mine and they dance slowly,

gracefully.

In a way I didn’t think it was possible for me to move.

He tastes of the wine we had just finished

but I guess I was still craving it.