Knock, knock against the wall
I knock back
Sending a message through the wall
I won’t stop knocking until you stop
A note under the door;
I never knocked on the wall, what are you talking about?
I miss you a lot, like crazy
I want to ask you, stay
Show you my scars
The hole in my heart
But I cannot (ask)
You’re a riddle, still
Figuring out yourself
I’m just a plain page, unworthy of your time
I need you, but
You’re not mine anymore
Belonging to other streetlights, on the river
Under dazzling eyes, red in the night
Across an open sea, far (away)
Unwind me // Wind me up
Shut me off // Tighten my spring
Put me back into a box // Break my walls
Cut my vocal cords // T
ie marionette string to my tongue
Knit my lashes together // Paint my eyeballs pink
Fold my ears inside out // Make the mice roar
Suffocate the light // Set fire to the world
naked and cold a lonely night
deep darkness hiding the sin
concealing the poison
head spinning, heart beating, blank mind
this unexpected but awaited escape
one last thought
quickly thinking it through
looking for that ounce of regret
not finding it
and then grabbing the bottle by the neck
bending a fork
naked and cold
do you have to go?
i know you have to go.
i have to go.
but do you, really?
you have to go now.
i have to go now.
i have to leave.
do you really have to leave?
you will miss your train.
i will miss my train.
i wish i could stay.
don’t miss your train.
(please miss your train)
i don’t want to miss my train.
(i really want to miss my train)
you can’t stay.
i can’t stay.
i love you.
i love you too.
We write our stories on crinkled coffee shop napkins, with cheap jet black eyeliner. Rough at the edges, smudged lines; fairytales but with tragic endings and without sparkling bliss.
Rays of sun through glass windows compete with our clouded minds and rainy eyes. Sorrows braided into galaxies, puddles made into swimming pools.
We are just spilled paint in an art portfolio, the shards in a broken mirror.
After talking – and not talking
After lingering looks
After dancing – dancing too close
Before regreting – and not regreting
Before wondering – wondering what might be
During fairy lights
During happening – and not happening
During moments – moments when time stands still
It’s only been a month, and I’m so scared yet so sure.
I’m scared I fell too quickly, scared it is not real – HE is not real.
I’m so scared of the voices telling me to slow down, but even more scared of those telling me not to.
I’m terrified of these potential feelings, call it love or whatever, and terrified that the feeling of not deserving this won’t go away, ever.
I’m scared the texts are going to stop, scared of the xxx’s becoming a dreaded habit, scared I’ll scare him away or bore him to death.
I’m scared he will stop taking my hand in his whenever we walk somewhere, scared his fingers tracing the stars on my skin will stop being the best feeling in the world.
I’m afraid that he’s the one, and that he’s not.
I’m so scared. But also so sure.
In her dreams she ran away
Her orange paws hitting the snow
Leaving a trail of swirling snowflakes
Through which only her white tipped tail was visible
I’ve lost my words,
hopelessly swirling downwards
Without them I’m nothing
more than empty vowels.
Give me your letters,
stitch them together,
string them up by their holes.
No punctuation, no dots or semi colon
will keep me from your story.
Give me a question mark,
and I have an exclamation point
Just for your paragraph.