Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

The Things I See In The Dark

Watching you walk away,

I am stuck in place,

until you return.

I make plans,

of how I’ll tell you,

that it’s over,

knowing they are just fantasies,

preemptive proposals,

that came together too late,

because you have already gone,

and I am talking to myself,

talking myself down,

from going back to a version of you,

that only exists in my head.

It doesn’t even matter.

It is 7AM.

I have been up since 5.

You are so far away,

but I’m staring at the moments we were closest,

and it’s like you were a different person.

I make a wish for you,

as I strike up my last cigarette,

out of habit,

because every aspect of my life has you in it,

and I’m afraid of how much I’d destroy,

if I tried to cut you out.

I know you never believed,

in my cards and the psychics who broke my heart,

because you deluded yourself into thinking that love was enough,

and that good people find each other,

and never get lost again.

I’m holding onto a blue lighter,

like it’s my soul,

tighter and tighter,

as if it will become your hands,

and I can feel found again,

but now,

it’s too late,

and I’m just staring at the emerging day,

wondering if I can survive it.

I saw scarlet,

but I didn’t want to say too much,

in case my words came to life,

tearing at the walls of the house we built,

until it was nothing more,

than empty, impossible echoes,

things you said,

when you were confused by carnal desire,

and thought you were in love.

I only wanted to come undone.

I’d ask you to take me home,

but I joined my worries,

last night,

tearing it from the sky,

down to the ground,

so now,

all that remains,

is a floor,

filled with mistaken memories,

and it’s so cold.

You like the cold,

so I am frozen,

on the floor,

still hoping,

heart still,

hoping.

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