It can never be the same again.
You think to yourself as you solemnly nod your head along to every painful word she says.
And you can’t look at her lips, at the soft pink that you once kissed late into the night, because you know as soon as you look – they won’t seem the same to you ever again. Not when they’re spitting words like bullets at your waiting and vulnerable heart, not when she’s only making the wound deeper.
She sighs and you know you’ve made her this way, that you’re the cause of this. But you pray she’s not finished, that she has more venom to spit – because as soon as she’s done, you know you might not see her ever again.
You’d rather have the wound bloody and fresh than to agonize in the roughness of the scars it’s left behind. Why can’t she see that you’d do anything for her? That you’d do anything to make her stay?
Except perhaps you know that that’s not true. You’d never try to make her stay, it would make you feel too much like a coward. You’d lose her before you ever lose your pride.
And as you drown yourself in alcohol later that night, you hope and you wish and you pray. Pray that you weren’t this way, that you weren’t so pathetic and unruly – maybe then she’d still want you. Maybe then you’d still want yourself.
She sighs in silence, while the soft snow falls gently to the ground.
“Nothing is forever,” she whispers, and all you can do is nod along.
Her lips look soft in the pale afternoon light, just like the dreary sorrow you feel inside when the marks on her wrist look redder than you know they should.
It’s when you realize that agony is not just something you can kiss goodbye at the door and hope not to see tomorrow – it is a suffocating, overbearing force that takes even the best of us.
And when her tears fall like rain onto your waiting shoulders, she whispers, “I don’t think I’ll make it to see the spring.”
In the place where fire meets ice, I feel only you. Your pale skin plays such a lovely contrast, dancing along and casting quiet silhouettes while I close my eyes and imagine I am anybody else, just not myself. Summer rain has never felt so cold against the hairs that stand straight on the back of my neck, whenever your gaze comes my way. So much love in the spaces our intertwined bodies contain.
Is it a sin, you and me?
Should we both back away now or finish playing the game we started?
Have you seen the devil? Have you dreamt about dancing with him while all your sorrows are burned away in his fiery embrace?
Even with the sun shining down upon me, I can’t keep you warm. I have nothing to offer but the solace that is my steady breaths in pace with your shallow ones.
When an angel sins do you think they’re so ashamed that they cut off their own wings? Your clean, white feathers are slowly falling to the ground.
I am undeserving of all that you are but always, you and I attract like two magnets, we’re complete opposites.
The flowers I gave you were burnt and withering, I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you tell me you love me.
You’re crackling apart, you’ve been stepped all over – it was all too soon. I could drown in all that you contain and it would wither me down to less than even a spark. I’m a match to water and you’re a cold, lifeless body smoking her last cigarette. Soon, we’ll both be nothing at all.