eleventh of april
love you baby, but i can’t stay here anymore
the smell, you linger
i shower, long for your fingers
look at the couch, how i laughed
threw off the red
all yours and nothing more
you pour, i adore
well, here’s the door
time to go
i know, i’ve said it before
but this time-
i’ll see you in the next
until then, here’s the knife
here’s to july, the good bye
love you, sublime
I’m moving today. It’s nice, but sad that I won’t think of your face as I start the shower, open the refrigerator, and lie on the couch, stroking you hair and kissing your face. This poem plays in my mind daily at the most abusive times.
Standing in a crowded room. I notice someone with an aura. Watched them disappear. Reappear and introduce themselves. Find out we grew up a mile from each other, drove the same car, etc. We went on dates and dates and dates and dates. I genuinely believed this one was for me. I would kill for them, do anything for them and love them unconditionally. It was electric and horrifying and beyond bizarre.
Which makes me wonder, the thing about soulmates, maybe soulmates are only supposed to stay for so long.
And that maybe this was right somehow.