out of pillows and forgotten
fragments of clothes
we'd pushed into my drawers.
I held my pillow-man's hand
and made sure he wasn't too warm
because it is summer;
I'm on the second floor;
and that was always your
biggest complaint.
this morning I tried to shower
but would turn off the water and run
like a soapy dog, complete with
loyal tail wagging, to the door
thinking you'd come knocking.
You hadn't.
tomorrow will taste like
the food of a week ago
and I'll wear sunglasses,
which, if you know me,
(and you do)
will seem out of context
and like a little girl
playing dress up.
I know there are supposed to be
thunderstorms, perfect
radio love songs, movies with Meg
Ryan and wondering when we'll meet
again,
but God
doesn't budge on the details.
________________________________________________________--
..> pulling my thoughts together in a basket,
wrapped in [t e c h n i c o l o r] ribbon to signify
the thousand sins we've gotten ourselves in.
With children fighting over us on easter,
and crosses scratched into wrists so delicate,
bones so broken,
and so slippery in their [h y p o c r i s y],
left in through nerve endings and the skin-tight matter of
chalkboards and powdered - - - cocaine lines.
inside we find scales and needles to point us home,
though home is never the correct way,
and [Holly-->wo
- od] always seems to lead me astray,
with dazzling lights ((********.)) [starrs] of
false hopes and glamour,
a gentle, [cut-out]x[liar];
soft in my let down,
rough in the way you feel me up.
I [carve] my way down into your
[r
a
i
n
b
o
w],
a red self-esteem that makes itself known
among the oranges of the seed you forgotten you'd sown,
with the seclusion of the yellow, a broken in green;
and the way I turned [blue] while you told me everything,
an indigo sky laced itself with your lies;
and the violet anger made itself known in my asphyxiated...
h
i
g h.
a nameless protruder,
though her name was
(written like mine);
I sat and watched the ******** smiles
(and wished I could die)
cheated [lips]
and perfect-
******** [hips];
your [poisoned] [kiss]
. . .
left me speechless,
with nothing left,
but the [unforgotten] memory;
and [hate] from a lovetheft
your dirty, hidden [smoke ring];
slamming me into a whole lot of nothing,
I'll
[bleed] myself crazy for you
if it's what you want me to do,
and I'll find your [love] in my [eyes],
to [glitter] and shine,
glittereyes;
like the [diamond] we left behind,
ten months gone by and it's always been a lie.
[black] [clouds] fall past the ideas,
and we're wrapped in stars, left out to dry.
[neon] [fishnet] melodies I had forgotten how to scream,
t//
w is.__ted and reversed,
the line that crosses my mind at the seams.
((changed a bit, to suit my preferences))
""[her] lipstick, [your] collar, don't bother,
a n
g
e
l.""
I'm a broken, used [slut];
my past has made this obvious,
a virgin; but not for a loss--
simply a loss,
and a burden;
version 13.0,
reloading,
i n s t a l l i n g
((file is corrupt,
end [whore] downloading.))
pixellated and [never] more than a
[nylon] fabrication,
weaving my way into your mind;
always too close,
but never a step behind.
emotions continue falling,
in a few months time,
I'll find myself [alone];
though our hearts remain connected,
your body will be severed to the bone.
with nothing left but a useless basket of [ana] notes,
"wrapped in [t e c h n i c o l o r] ribbon to signify
the thousand sins we've gotten ourselves in."
your presence will be gone.
but my lava lamp keeps on spinning,
I'll keep fighting with my useless tries;
I never thought it'd be as you said;
"all good things come with time"
..>
__________________________________________________________--
with every word between the lines,
I'd swear I was gaining an aftertaste each time
irreplaceable, and repeated like disaster,
a thousand scars and two hundred
tons of broken cars, speeding faster among the highway lights
stop signs,
onetwothree's in red, green, and yellow
matching the colors of the colored contacts in broken eyes,
faked to make a scene and keep it there,
like dyed lily hair among a rainbow of streaks like the,
just like the STOP
l
i
g
h
t
s
xx
twinkling in harmony with your thoughts,
repetitive to words, because you can't decide on your
sexuality, going to every gender with ease, though you
still feel that discomfort when you're trying to
find a way to please something you don't want to see.
"post up your descriptions and pleads,
compliment me and I'll find something to like about you;
just tell me that I'm a
p r e t t ygorgeousl o v e doll and that you want to
******** me down the lines of your thoughts,
and I'll return the favor with meaningless scoffs"
you're such a
broken angel.
and you're such a masked mystery,
masked being the keyword, down to the fate.
you're such a
broken fake.
