Can’t Go Back

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.


The Temptation That Is You

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.

By The Book

A prelude to our love.

Coincidence and apathy turns to desire and “I need you.”

Autumn turns to Winter and the fire feels so right under our fingertips, doesn’t it?

Your smile is still all there. My heart still beats. The snow still falls.

Things are good and we haven’t quite yet gotten to the part where you couldn’t do anything but lie through your teeth.

Spring arrives and I leave for 2 months and you go seemingly unfazed. The flowers are beautiful and every sunset reminds me of you.

Spring turns into summer and you decide to give me another chance, a real one this time.

And before summer even gets its chance to shine, I’ve messed everything up. And I’m sorry.

But “sorry” is a word you don’t want to hear from me anymore. You say it’s started to sound like a confession, like I’m on trial and you’re the judge. I promised you I’d stop.

It’s the beginning of Autumn when he comes into the story. He is fresh, he is regular, he is something new to try. And so you let him in. I am nothing now, just a minor character.

It’s well into Autumn when he allows his fingers to trace the soft pale skin below your dress.

The first time you say, that was exciting.

But I want to slap him across the face. What was he thinking?

The second time, you don’t tell me about until months later. The second time you say, wasn’t so fun. In fact, it’s ruined you. He’s ruined you. I want to slit his fucking throat. And I would have.

But it couldn’t have fixed you.

This is the part where the lies come in. Where you only tell me bits and pieces of things when you decide to tell me at all. Where you start hurting yourself and stop going out at night. Where you won’t let me do a goddamn thing. Where I ruin myself because I let him ruin you.

Autumn turns to winter and suddenly the fire is so scary, isn’t it?

I haven’t seen your smile in months, I feel only empty space where my heart should be. Will there be any snow at all this year?

At the thought of you, all I can taste is blood. It feels like a hundred punches to the gut even though you’re not there. My nights go by sleepless, me pulling my hair out and shaking uncontrollably. But I don’t miss you. I miss what things could have been. I miss being able to imagine a future in which I’m at least a bit content and where I’m treated properly. I can’t see anything past tomorrow, though. I can’t see much without you here either. You decide why that is.