smile, rosemary

twelve

her

i walk the streets, alone.
nostalgic to my pillows,
carriers of my tears,
to the moment they will
embrace my head
as if to say: "it'll be okay,
you've survived the day."

and i think about
south, the way he
reminds me of home;
the feeling of dancing
in the rain and scattered
kisses.

he can't love someone
who is broken, can he?

-

there are footsteps behind
me, and i quicken my pace.

"rooose," sings a voice that
makes my blood turn into
ice, "didn't your mom tell
you that walking alone
can kill you?"

the monster under my
bed crawled out of the
dust and is standing behind
me, claws ready to tear
through the blood stained
bandages i put around me.
-
him

i reach to my phone,
ready to call her in hopes
of making sure that she's okay.
but i set my hand on the
mattress and close my eyes instead.

perhaps we need space
from each other. perhaps
she needs to be away from me.


i wish i could save her
from the crazy demons
that haunt her nights,
but i can't. 

(little did he know that on his phone, the picture of a smiling blonde girl appeared. a line underneath it reading: rosemary :)  calling...)