Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

I Know It’s Over

I was doing my degree in keeping secrets and stealing kisses,
The Smiths whined on scratched vinyl in the background,
and I wanted you more than I wanted to graduate.
I’d stay up late,
drinking to forget you after you’d gone,
because I was a bastardisation of my father’s daughter,
lost child, losing her shit in the valleys of your body,
never touching,
just inhaling with indicative insanity,
hoping that I’d perish before doing something stupid.

I could meet someone who really loves me,
but what’s the point?
I’ll only want you,
as I always do,
because every obsession and distraction always leads me back to the true trail of that same girl I met at fourteen,
with the softest voice and the kind of vibe I can’t abide for too long, without breaking down.

You are my silver bullet,
and I stand in broad daylight,
begging you to end it,
but you believe in me,
and that’s just about the worst thing you could do.
You’ve been like this since high school,
obnoxiously optimistic and attached to the idea that I am worth the air that I breathe.
Why can’t you hate me?
Why can’t you be as cruel to me as I am to myself?

I go to waste on the concrete of the pavement,
wasting my breath as I beg you to let me forget,
because it’s over,
like everything was always destined to be.
I have never been able to hold anything worthwhile, but a grudge,
because I let it fall from my fingers, at the thought of you,
knowing that nothing compares to the kind of music I could taste when you looked my way,
the nonsensical way I navigated dreams in the real world when you were mine,
the way the stars seemed to slip from the sky and shine under my skin, when I held you in my gaze.

You are the muse of my magnum opus,
the map of my madness,
the blueprint of my baby blue broken heart,
and as the fireworks start falling from the sky,
high over the bounds of my back garden,
I watch them,
wondering why I still see your smile in every spark.

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