a ringing in my ears like the echo of device, faded when I couldn't cry and thought that I had found the meaning in the bitter-taste of my own mouth - this is not a question asked but a question answered, left like footprints in the stone so I can still look back, remember all this silence like the sound that marks your absence my lungs are all askitter, but it is a faded scene on the back of a post-it note, the chipping paint on the rotting deck, forever this can be a kind of sweetness in the vein: cherry red, but no one left to taste it.
angle of refraction by creativelycliche, literature
Literature
angle of refraction
looked after my first delight like rainwater on a tin roof, anxiety and loud, loud, loud, and if I could see the end of it, I could wish I never would, wish that the only thing I ever heard was pounding so it drowned out the sound of you leaving, slipping through my fingers - prickly edged but vibrant, the light just keeps dissolving on my tongue.
(s)elective in(s)tantaneous (r)el(i)ef by creativelycliche, literature
Literature
(s)elective in(s)tantaneous (r)el(i)ef
categorically defined by insecurity and the vines that test my veins and the spongeified remains of my disintegrating brain - I've made up quite a scene inside my head for why the stars align like christmas lights in rows above my head, leaves me dizzy-ingly left of thinking straight, full of ill-direction and an unaccounted feeling of disdain; if it was easier to turn around I would, but my left hand has never known its right from all its wrongs, in certainty I'm sure the moon is innocent of all my crimes - I only wish the sun was so composed.
given to expression the heart can leave the well until it all runs dry, can let think get hard and fade off of our fingertips - what used to mark me washed away like petty dirt, when I once thought it cut me to the bone if all the cuts and blisters heal, I am afraid the crowds will forget my name - insistent that the loss has made me out, left me empty, like an old car with a new engine I wonder if I shall shake apart, a hum like a record before the music starts, the anticipation burns and I can sing again even if it's quiet - I will whisper if it means that the sun will warm my skin again - and smile like I never lost a thing.
three steps across the hallway and it left me breathless when I thought that I had found the air - a january child, pale and with the sunset on your shoulder it will fade, but let you in on secrets I have never learned - like how the frost can chill your skin but warm your bones, or how the light can catch your every breath - it is colder than arctic when I meet you for the first time, but the morning sun was brighter in my eyes.
the last bad thing by creativelycliche, literature
Literature
the last bad thing
the last bad thing is another empty glass on the bedside table, swept off in the morning to shatter by the trash can left you weary for the day that hadn't started, automatic lights and scented soap under your fingernails, we've always said the smell of death is timeless, but it lingers in the alcohol and acetone tastes like it shouldn't - solved: the very last bad thing to say good morning, rinsed down with the mouthwash and bad tea.
the right way to spell it by creativelycliche, literature
Literature
the right way to spell it
I wonder in the fall that year, did you tell them who I was, did you say I was in love or just a kid, typed out and tired from the margins of the things you knew you would forget did you say 'he's so in love with me', like you weren't in on it, twisted back your fingers 'till they'd break, lies like cigarette stains on your teeth did you tell them how the mornings came with you and I still breathless, longer nights, wondering if we would be a dream, or just dreaming that the sun that was ours would be forgotten, quiet nothings last forever and then fade away like the snap of teeth against the bit, it sounds like breaking down. did you tell them: 'this is the last time I will call, the last night I will think about him' or in the morning on the doorstep, did you forget to think about me at all.
sometimes it seems like I've lost my voice when the cup kept filling, and if I'm being honest I was always afraid of what would happen if I did and yet the echoes of a hundred million fears have gone and shut right up the ones that always told me I wasn't worthy of love - they can go straight to hell, along with the worst things that made me think I was alive, or that I could not exist. I used to feel drawn in the margins, but the dark was always broken by the dawn, the morning came until I could say I had made it out, the shards like tempered glass, shattered but still in one piece
i. beckon my heart, does it ask you if I am gone or if the heathered sun is asking for you, let me leave, let me leave, to protect the stunned and astered ii. burnt taste fades with each passing, but even when your eyes have melted, when the words in your mouth are like strangers, there's a piece of you in the morning sun and the scent of fresh baked bread, banana. iii. but I never asked you if this was how you wanted, faded like sun-drenched sheet the color fades and for a moment you were still there, uncertain but not afraid (if you asked). an instant, and everything is different. iv. threadbare and empty the room screams with the sting of smiling porcelain, smeared with smashed carrots and the fury of smashing fists - so slowly, then all at once the sun is fading and the smiles are all perfunctory - but even in the fading light you, in the chair beside me, faith in the things you couldn't see. v. middle of the morning and the calls come asking if it's over. bitterness and
I guess you ate those bitter pills, wonder if you lost your sense of taste if in the years ahead we know the reference, lost and listless, the sour sound of people who never learned to cut off the ends of their finger and let it bleed - ask me next time if the sight of you makes me shiver, because I don't regret the endings that I left you with.