You leave, I am an abandoned house.
With splintered wood, and a floor that is caving in.
You leave, I am a dusty attic.
Filled with faded photographs and untouched cardboard boxes.
You leave, I am a car that doesn’t drive.
With rusting metal and flat tires.
You leave, but I am still here.
–S.
I realize that trying to change you, only changed me.
For me to see, it took falling out of love with you, and falling back in love with me.
Love is blind, but not when I’m loving me.
Now, I can see.
–S.
You come to me in a dream, nothing is as it seems.
You come to me in a dream, flying with black wings.
You come to me in a dream, glowing like an ultralight beam.
You come to me in a dream, this is a nightly reoccurring theme.
In a dream, you seem, made of sweet creme.
In real life, a man with a scheme.
Oh, but, in a dream.
–S.
I bring you my hurt, and your waves take it to the horizon.
I fall to my feet and I weep, and you add my tears to yours.
I bring you my grief, and you swallow it.
I feel as though I’m drowning, and you show me I am floating.
I look to you for answers, but you show me my reflection.
–S.
She howls at the moon,
anyone or anything listening.
She howls at the night,
the loneliness is crippling.
She howls at the stars,
as acceptance is sinking in.
–S.
I walked along the tongue of the earth,
to get to the edge of the universe.
Meet me between space and time.
I want to know that you are mine.
–S.
You forgot, but I remember,
you broke my heart in December.
You forgot, but I remember,
you loved me in September.
You forgot, but I remember,
you said forever in November.
You get to forget,
but I will always remember,
like a ghost in October.
–S.
I walked into your tragedy,
like a sailor answering a siren’s song.
I walked deeper into your tragedy,
I knew that it was wrong.
–S.
Blue Valentine,
I’d never leave you if you were mine.
But you left me when I was yours.
Blue Valentine,
what happened to for better or for worse?
–S.
You want a girl who is soft and has lips that are cherry red.
You want a girl who smells like vanilla and leans into everything you say like a cat.
I am not a girl. I am a hurricane.
I am not soft. I am electric.
My lips are not cherry red. They are nude and rich like the earth.
I don’t smell like vanilla. I smell like a wildfire.
I am not a cat. I am a panther.
And I never lean or sway, I’m like a roller coaster that way.
–S.
The Messy Middle 🖤 