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. 

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Cry

She will cry,

She will cry over you like there is no tomorrow,

She will cry until her throat is raw,

And until her hair is a mess.

Her screams will echo through the walls,

And there will be nothing beautiful about it.

 

She will tear out the pages of her notebook that she dedicated to you,

And swear that your name will never again appear on the crisp pages that are so important to her,

But two days later the words won’t come,

And she’ll find herself sprawling your name over and over until the ink blurs and merges with her tears.

 

She will curse you,

And curse herself,

And curse the skies for everything,

And for nothing.

 

There will be days when the sun shines,

But all she can see is rain and clouds,

And days when she won’t see anything at all.

 

And fuck,

She will love you even though her heart is breaking,

Because she gave you a part of herself,

That you refuse to return.

 

But know this,

She will also learn to forget you.

 

So when she walks by you in two months time,

Laughing and smiling without a care in the world,

You will wonder how she slipped through your fingers,

And she won’t care.

 

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.

I wouldn’t

I could fucking kill him.

I could gently wrap my hands around his neck and watch the life drain from his face.

I could take his pillow from beneath my head and turn to his sleeping frame beside me late morning and press it to his face, smothering him until his body goes limp.

I could slip something in his drink the next time we go out.

Better yet,

I could fucking kill myself.

I could take a bath at his house, and take one of his over used razors to my wrists.

I could tie a noose tightly around my neck attached to his bedroom ceiling while he’s busying sleeping until noon.

I could make the rest of his thoughts revolve around me,

I won’t.

But what a powerful thought to know I could.