The pressure of your lips
It’s the moments in spring turning to summer I think of you the most.. the day I met you, to the first time I kissed you and told you I loved you. I saw something today and it resonated with me to my core. It’s kind of sad but bear with me. To this day it’s a harsh and bitter feeling that fills me honestly with dread but the thought of someone else being able to feel that intimacy of the pressure your lips give breaks me. The way your fragile hands felt on the back of my neck, right under my ear. The way you would squeeze me tight when we had to say goodbye. Whether for 5 mins, a day, a week, forever you always gave me that warmth.. and the fact that you get to give it to him every day and night kind of burns. Like touching a hot pan, my head feels like crashing into my calling fan. The thought of you pressing your lips on another man.. fuck it stings.
thats all for today. just me groaning about something that resonated with me and made me realize I can’t ignore what’s real and what won’t heal.
-Love
Anger? No Grief
I’ve been sitting with my anger these last few years, only to learn her name wasn’t anger but her true identity was Grief. The longing pain and anguish within my child like heart has secretly been trying to heal me all this time. This feeling is getting to heavy for me My heart, my health.
Love vs. Old Love
Is your love them as our old love? The intensity and heaviness of all the oceans combined into one? Could you honestly say your love be so energized like it had the power of ten suns? Or the pull of a black hole? Does your love give you the same emotional response we used to have? Because so far I have yet to find my replacement of you. nor do I think I ever truly will. Which is why it feels like a dagger constantly twisted in the back of my heart when I see him with you. Does he truly make you feel like fireworks are exploding in your chest? Are butterflies flying in your stomach? Because all I feel with her is dread and no one’s compared to feeling you gave.
Burn down the house
When all the blood rushes down to my fist,
And when all of this vile violence strikes my solemn heart, There's nothing I quite do better than;
Burning a house down,
Or writing a poem.
with heavy dragging hands, I know all about the down and out, I get it. I can’t pretend in silence when my heart is raging with anguish when I see you online. Is this the life I was meant to live with constant pain in my heart?
so the blood rushes my hands and I destroy them against the walls of my heart. As I suffocate with these unresolved feelings and emotions
Last act of love
I remember the moments as if it just happened. It was a warm warm August night in Denver Colorado, and a warm warm night in California. We talked for about an hour until the sun set over the vast mountain range to me west where you lay. My last act of love was to not get in between the man you loved who you’d soon up marrying. I hope you see the beauty in that moment where I could have ruined that for you but chose to actively let you find the love of your life while I let my own go. I think of you all the time and how I’m glad I let you thrive. Even at the cost of my own selfish romantic demise.
Existential thoughts
1 am
he's better than me.
not because hes better than me but because hes better for you. he fits you better.
you guys are cuter than we could ever be.
this isn't me giving up.
this is me admitting we are both, meant for better things.
because I too, will find someone, better for me. although I’d argue you’re what’s good for me still.
2 am
I've often wondered about what leads a man to drink,
Is it for the painful pleasure of alcohol,
Or the thrill of drowning: his seven year old self?
2:30 am
my pillow has never felt more uncomfortable to the thought that I can’t tell if I’m feeling things purely out of love or the fact it might be an unhealthy obsession.
4 am
there isn’t better, there is no replacement. Nothing holds in comparison to you so I smoke my cigarette because it’s the closest feeling to being alive when I was with you.
The mark on your chest.
I wish I stayed
i wish I was present, within your presence maybe things wouldnt have changed.
im losing the curves of the smile you gave, the way your eyes shrank when you grinned ear to ear. The shape of your hand in mine. The way of the small of your back placed perfectly into me. The marks you called ugly, that I called lovely. The creases in your eyes to the way you stuck your tongue out. I wish I had stayed for a while longer so maybe that I wouldn’t forget the very details of your existence. I’m losing you even though You have been gone for a while.
Heavy Eyes
They don’t prepare you enough or tell you how badly she’ll haunt you. Even when we were kids turned to confused adults these memories are still haunting my dreams. Last night I dreamt I was in my childhood home and you were coming to visit. Like a home away from home you came to me with arms open we embraced one another. I hated it. Every second of that dream. Because knowing it wasn’t reality killed me more and more as I woke up. It Physically hurt me in my sleep when I knew you had to “leave” back to SoCal.. when I woke up my face was covered in tears. The realism and how vivid it felt like a cruel cruel prank on me by God. I don’t know if I’m going insane at this point. I was 17 when we were together and now I’m 27 almost 28 questioning what the fuck am I doing? With life, you, myself, my purpose but the only constant is you.
Side:A & Side:B
Side A:
There's a boy inside all men, Patiently waiting for warmer days,
Crouched in the corner of his overgrown brain, With a teddy bear in the left hand, And hatred in the right one.
Hoping for a lullaby he never heard,
A song he never had,
So the drunken bearded boy plays the piano with his bleeding hands,
phereing eyelid kate ties like the
He sings like Billy Joel's Piano Man, For the ones who could've been, But never were.
Nobodies and nameless faces, Drunkards with teddy bears, Addicts with severed brains, The kid that lived inside all of us, The forgotten, The rotten, The dead.
Side B: I’m just living out of Spite at this point, to prove to all doubted me including myself. call it self-hatred to my own ego or a competition to myself. Out of spite I keep moving with anger in my left hand and my teddy bear in my right. Fist pumping heart thumpin’ tears down my cheeks and rage in my eyes spitefully staring those who go against me even the reflection in my mirror. Trying to kill what kills me. But don’t tell my ego it’s “me” so I live out of pure spite to those who doubt me. Even if the doubt is from me.