oh, tragic.
the haunt of a muted trumpet
tells stories of our love so forgotten
and i’m just lying so close to you
wondering when or if
you’re gonna make your move
every single dew drop kiss
will melt away the emptiness
and i’m so vacant i can’t even remember it now:
the soft dreamers figure
beneath my frame
and i am crooked
and you are awkward
these stories will intertwine in their abuses
every misstep in the right direction
and every lovers lament
blending sadly
and silently
on the same burnt up canvas
i hope you know how destroyed you have the power to make me
that time i sat and cried on your staircase
without leaving you, i always left you
as you threw a ten dollar bill in my direction
calling me a whore
and i never thought to go
i just sobbed, grabbing onto you
like a little helpless fuckup
i dream of children
i do not want
i dream of my own innocense
this vulnerability
i unendingly refuse to let go of;
my mind fills with pity as i black out
falling to the ground
and awaking in your bed;
your lips are uninvited
but you won’t listen,
i suspect
i learned in the morning
by the bruises on my wounds
of your touch
and i remember weeks later
the taste of all that alcohol
so odorless against
the freshly beer drunken backdrop of my lips
i just kept kissing
and you just kept asking questions
in encouragement
of tonight’s ridiculous main attraction
ms. jess and her glorious curves
never tainted in this way
but your blankets were so so soft
and my wait to fall asleep in them
seemed broken, shattering peacefully
the dreams of waking up with you
morning after morning
my little worrisome daughter-of-my-mother mind
wondering if tomorrow i will even
see the sun at all
i just keep wishing
for a better day
and a better daydream
to replace nightmare
after nightmare
after, wait.
hold me closer,
glittering starscape
stories of the moon
weaving themselves
within the tapestry of your eyes
i crave you:
i crave your wreckless availability
the knowledge of your heartbreaking
against the walls of your chest;
i hope i someday get to see you cry like that again,
darling, it was cradled
in the annoying, too-open hollow space
of your lips that i last believed
in anything
i am dying in my own failures
and i suppose i deserve every last minute of it.
so press up against your princess
in one last bittersweet embrace
i’ve learned the steps now,
i can dance now.