from stadium lights to hollywood carpets
whether it is only dark or casting a slight drizzle
you are always wearing the same thing
even if it's different
it's only midnight when you start to ache
for another voice and for another body
you always thought sleep was overrated
and you know you can't get through the night alone
you are a match that reeks when it is lit
but whether they despise the taste was always up to someone else
you burn so bright they forget you are not the sun
so when you fade out you are alone
you are the quiet comfort that no one asks for
but still the reason i remember such a blur of bright colors
something i dig into the palms of my hand until the pain goes away
and a reason i tell myself i am glad i stayed
YOU ARE READING
𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌
Poesíastatic stat·ic ˈstat-ik. adjective characterized by a lack of movement or change trigger warning: read at your own risk! | just an unnecessarily long collection of me trying to get over my feelings
