these roads we travelYou could've been the girl who changed me.More Like This
I've fallen down and fallen apart enough times that it gets hard to remember, but sometimes I study my scars in the sunlight and trace the patterns back through time. I spend my mornings living in memories, reliving the places I've scuffed myself, and I've found that romance is better in hindsight. Her kisses are sweeter tinged with nostalgia, and it almost feels like I'm whole again when I'm thinking of the dents she put in my pulse and smoothing out the wrinkles she left in my resolve. For a moment, there's equilibrium, but then the sun is setting and I'm disoriented, dropping fragments of myself between cracks in the sidewalk I'm following down the street and towards an independent sunset. I'm standing on the corner and waiting for the light to turn, and you show up with a wayward smile cradled in your fingers. You press it into my grasp and I'm thinking maybe I've spent too much time looking at my flaws instead of my potential.
You could h
For Robbiehe spoke to me in latin and french,More Like This
in russian and spanish and verbs.
he spoke in delicate purples and blues,
through guitar strings strung too tight,
through clouded glass, murky lakes
and sultry wine. he said:
he loved me with clenched fists and jealousy,
with frozen peas and flowers and neat
he loved in winter, spring, summer but never fall.
he loved in obscure poetry and lies
and in broken bones and popped blood veins.
now the bathroom mirror speaks to me
in jutting ribs and sharp hip bones,
in tiny red screams across pale skin
mottled black and blue, he says:
do not disturb.The saddest thing I've ever heardMore Like This
Is your voice crack in pieces
The saddest thing I've ever seen
Is your broken smile
Being crushed into glass.
If you meet my eyes,
you will meet your missing heart.
Don't cry, baby.