But What If I Interpret It Wrong? You Always Called Me Out For Being Too Cynical, So Maybe The Freckles

How can you call him a monster when he has my heart gently cradled between his cupped palms? So much anguish yet such a gentle hold on me. You hear your thoughts from others, and yet haven't seen the way his fingertips softly trace my neck. Although I suppose, if he had wanted to crush my heart I would have let him. How often do you witness such a sweet creature turn to pure rage from the depths of his soul?

and even though the stains from the bright and artificial ice-creams we had are long gone from my clothes and my tongue, I still try to remember what it tasted like, how it was like between us back then when there was still so much to discover. yesterday, I bought the same popsicles we had, as if I could truly ever go back, and I swear something I have known, has never tasted so alien.

You can't drag me away from cities, no matter the serenity of small towns and farmhouses. Something unspoken about it always attracts me, so many lives, bursting with energy, each fast and bright in its own galaxy, none too similar to the other or to mine, and I, a lone observer, will never get enough of that feeling.

I hate the sunset tonight, the world is shaking and nothing feels right the calculator shows me a paradigm of an answer without a number in sight I hate the sunset tonight because that would mean you’re leaving, without even putting up a fight, without the unspoken names of the constellations we once found without the trace of our foreheads pressed together just right I hate the sunset tonight I’ve got my pens and papers out by the coast side the pile of broken calculators grows taller and I try to catch sight of your flight come back down, stop flying out of my sight come back down, won’t you make it right? the sun bleeds over my homework, the water rushes out of my veins, the horizon pools over and drops down in a terrible rhythm, a bit, then a bit more until it bleaches out memories right now, this night. I hate the sunset tonight

my mind is like a goddamn river. not serene or calm or peaceful, but every thought rushing by too fast and gone before I can fully understand it. I, myself can barely remain afloat in these deep waters. so do you really want to break down my walls, the dams I've built over the years? will you drown in these rushed waters too? and if you manage to swim, would you bring me to my shores with you?

if I wanted to feel the choke, I'd just ask the plants I always fail to grow. Their corpses still fail to create what I knowingly try to drown, is that why we flatlined, the moment you dared to turn around?

won’t you twirl me in the rain love, while the heavens shed the tears we won’t?

we are but a gentle sin, while you hold the gun against my mouth, while we play dolls in our sandhouse, does the burn remind you of me? sickly red hazes overcoming your greatest tragedies, I'd let you blow my brains out, but I'd also burn your skin right off yes we talk till dawn cracks over the kitchen counter, but it would remind you of a puppeteer and me of skinner's theories.

Walking through the machines, They’d see blued bones Every place you held me in. Bated breaths from them peeling The suitcase we let gather dust, How come we’re on the same flight, Just in different terminals? The plane which took off before mine, carried the longing with it, And what is your love without the yearning mixed in it? Not the shaking when we landed, Face first in deep so called regret, Ignored the rumbling of shoved voices, What could be better than your heart’s erratic noises, When I pass through the crimes of unforgivable circumstances?

I’ve died so many deaths Just in this one life The pause between the beats Long enough, to make me question If you would curse me for pausing time Every time you said that you were mine And if I died then No other place so apt As when the stars would rather prefix If I died only then, You would’ve loved me for an entire life What tragedy is death, when I get the pick the forever I most yearn for? Nostalgia wouldn’t send its tariff for I would’ve been buried, and you would’ve been there at the funeral, And maybe for once, the grief would corrode your heart, And maybe for once I could ask you to stay, when after all there’s no one you could leave.