i am a book that was once read,
devoured,
but now i sit on your shelf
waiting for you
to pick me.
if i saw your lips they would suck me in
and you are just as fleeting
as the universe cutting into the pieces of itself,
tearing at every hole in heaven.
and i feel so lost in the empty spaces
where your hands weren't,
before you loosened your grip on my throat
when you forgot to consider the exit wound;
you were more than my friend,
you were the only part of me that i wanted to fully become
you and your stain of a smile;
the way you grew from these negative emotions.
the promises i make to myself seem to be the hardest ones to keep
and though i hate to lie
letting you down seems so much harder.
i think i would destroy you
i would destroy you
like i used to
YOU ARE READING
horribly beautiful ✔️
Poetrypeople write about things that do not happen. they will romanticize this world in hopes of filling themselves up. they write like their words are food. but i have always written to empty myself completely. i will romanticize feeling nothing. jun...
