Thank you for teaching me love,
A lesson they skipped between world wars and algebra.
Thank you for showing me the difference it makes to sleep with someone you actually care about.
You broke my heart and I can’t find all the pieces.
Without you the world feels colder.
The empty gaps where you once lived
Are leasing to vodka and lips that aren’t yours
Because I need to feel something that isn’t the pain of your arms not around me.
And I’m drowning in all the things I never said to you and I tried to swallow the words but now I’m choking on them and if this kills me
I thank you
I hurt so deeply
And you were afraid of drowning
I can’t blame you for this
I’ve been floating in it since I was 12
The hurt feels like home now
You can’t run every time the water hits the shore
All I needed was a lifeguard
And you disappeared
I’m sorry I tried to kill myself in your bed.
But I felt so alive there it frightened me.
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.
Lipstick stained cigarettes and old bookshops will remind you of me even if you can’t remember what you’re remembering.
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,
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.
I will write you poems,
From the blood the pours from my wrist.
The colour of your eyes in the sunlight,
Matches the noose hanging in my closet.
Your hand grips mine so passionately,
The same way I held the empty pill bottle.
Your sent is intoxicating,
I just wish I could be locked with it inside a plastic bag.
You gently splashed me in the tub,
And the waves made me want to go to the sea and swim as far as I could so I couldn’t make it back.
I thought loving you would make me better, but you have given death a romantic touch. And I love her more than I could ever love you.
I should be comforted by the way he holds me, and how he speaks to me to tenderly.
But all I can think of is how badly it will hurt when he is gone.
I hate that every time I hurt myself, I hurt him.
I hate that I cannot be well for him.
I hate that this is just as draining for him.
I hate knowing that he deserves so much better.