Opus

Disintegration

The black words didn't fit in line.
Dull aches and numbed complaints.
All the books I never got to buy, and the ones I
bought but never read
The hurtful things my mother would say
And little shortcomings that make you cry.
Locked safe in my room.
The summer love that fell
like golden leaves
and the texts I never replied to.
Friendships that sailed without
Mint candies
And long walks home.
The old notebook of poems that got filled, and new ones
just aren't good enough.
But.
Love breeds in the shadows of this city bleached with sin
And friendships are easier to forge
than poetry.
On the clouds in intricate spider-webs, with
nothing but words to feed on.
Scarred and skeletal.
Love was cold sheets, and in the naked expanse of
your home I longed for my own.
I reeked of a beautiful evening,
of a tree I found in beige, filled with
 butterflies like an exotic nightmare
where shadows dance with the wind.
But the black words didn't fit in line
And snowglobes fell apart.
The wolves stabbed at my shrivelled skin.
I hid in the mirror
Because my eyes were red and I didn't want you to see
My dull, unwashed bruises.