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. 

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The Poet And The Pessimist

She sat there, her head nearly pressing against the glass, admiring the rain gently kissing the pavement.

He sat in his office, eyes glazed with the reflection of the computer screen, mumbling about how the weather ruined his plans for the day.

 

I’m sorry

I’m sorry about the bruises

You got from trying to climb the walls

I built about myself

 

They are tall and strong

But they are what

keep me safe

 

I’m sorry about your eyes

They way the leaked over me

Was never something I intended to happen

 

I’m sorry about your bones

And the way they took home in my bed

After I stopped leaving my room

 

I’m sorry about the blisters and burns on your feet

You got after walking miles for me

Just for me to tell you to go back home

 

I’m sorry about your ears

And the way my lies will forever echo

In the drum like I almost loved you

 

I’m sorry about the taste I left in your mouth

Because no matter how badly you want to wipe it away

You won’t dare because it’s sweet and rare and irreplaceable

 

I’m sorry about your bed

And the way it’s filled with

Our memories and my scent.

 

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

Seasons

Autumn is a time for the carefree

Autumn is a time where the damaged souls feel comfort in the trees and the wind,

Autumn is a time for chainsmokers and poets to reveal who they are,

Autumn is a time for lovers who do not know how to love,

The ones who find their emotions at the bottom of a bottle.

Autumn is the time where we can cover the scars and pretend,

Even just for a few months,

We are understood.

Different

I haven’t been writing like before,

The only thing that drives me to pick up a pen anymore are a few glasses of whiskey.

I haven’t been singing lately,

The way I did with you in the shower,

Maybe because I’m always on my own and things we used to do together makes me feel lonely.

I don’t sleep enough,

I only dream of you at my feet and waking up is too painful.

When you left you left your sent on my skin and I’ve scrubbed for three days straight but you just won’t disappear.

I don’t go to all my classes,

They feel too long and I’m not paying attention anyway.

I don’t paint,

I always find my way to the colour of your eyes and it’s not beautiful anymore,

It’s tragic.

I don’t spend much time at home,

The walls want to know where you went and I don’t have the answer.

I forgot to eat today,

I didn’t realize until I got ill and had nothing in my system but the vodka that goes down like water these days.