I push the bookshelves down.
I delete the playlist I’ve always kept around.
I unsubscribe from any service that streams movies.
I’m tired of being love’s groupie.
Hopeless romantic,
the space between real love and I is as wide as the Atlantic.
They made me believe that you were magic,
and that you were on the way.
All you ever fucking did,
was stay away.
–S.
Millions of people but the city feels too small for us both.
I drive up the coast,
and try to get lost in the country,
I’m looking for the place where you might still love me.
I ask for directions,
I even buy a map.
At a rest stop in Texas,
it hits me,
it’s a wrap,
and that’s that.
–S.
Coffee in my cup.
Guess it’s time to giddy up.
Thoughts of you never fail to interrupt.
One foot in the stirrup.
Still stick on you like syrup.
–S.
I let you hurt me.
I was numb, so I wanted to feel.
I let you hurt me.
It was wrong, but I wanted it still.
I let you hurt me.
You moved on, but I don’t think I will.
–S.
I peel a piece of skin off of my lip with my teeth.
Summer’s bringing the light, but heavy is the grief.
The brief moment of pain brings a slight relief.
Does it all really come down to self-belief?
–S.
The Messy Middle 🖤 