My mind will always miss what I know damn well is destructive to me.
I know I deserve better.
I know I deserve golden hands dripping lavender sweetness into my pores to fill all the emptiness I withhold.
But my mind yearns for demolition.
Yearns for hands covered in rust to rip away the vines protecting my heart.
Yearns for the pain that I can never seem to stop feeling.
Yearns for your words to come back, single file line, stomping into my ears like they belong right in the subconscious of my brain.
Yearns for your green eyes that never seemed to be mine - that spit venom into my soul like a snake with its jaw unhinged.
I had you wrapped tightly around my finger yet you were the one who
controlled me.
Your skin never touched mine, and for that,
I am thankful.
Thankful that you didn't ruin the very skin you praised.
The pain that came with you was comfortable.
My heart yearns for what is not.
YOU ARE READING
The Swallows and the Sunsets
PoetryI tend to find meanings in things not intended to have one.
