This feeling of utter emptiness Is overwhelming. Behind my eyes is blur And I see the world as unpalatable Through wet hazel Life, so complex I am intertwined and tangled in the horrors of uncertainty Just so I can elude the honest truth, of what I am certain.
Facile, it was not with you inconsistencies cascaded down on average weekdays Clinging to weary shoulders Since when does love mean intensity? All I know is it's too late.
Monday, 05 October 2009
I'm a mess, and chances are you'll never know the tenderness I held for you. Some days, when thoughts of you are raw, I'm fine. But days like today, I am a shell. I never found heartfelt meaning in the comparison of a shattered person to small pieces found upon shores, But now it is my guess you'd have to experience, first hand, the feeling of crumbling, inside your own skin, to nothing. Succeeded by stranger's attempts to pry inside you, Unfold you in effort to evoke some form of innocent emotion, simply considering you an enigma, Broken and jaded, you try to hide the nothingness that is left.
Friday, 02 October 2009
I never liked how organized you were. Because I didn't mind coffee rings left upon my bureau, and I liked having three different sponges opened and used. I did not mind the "Made in Taiwan" sticker stuck on my wooden bedpost, or the fact that I had to use a blender to grind 8 o'clock coffee beans. I liked leaving blankets undone, the way you left me. I liked the imperfect quirks of my day to day meanders that exposed my apartment as lived in. They are, in every aspect, extensions of myself that you were forever trying to fix. But eventually the coffee grinder you repaired stopped working and rings on surfaces reappeared. And you and I separated and became the strangers we really always were.
Grains of salt stinging my lips makes me miss the way you taste, Certainly nothing sweet, but at least I can say you were nothing boring. Still, I hated the inconsistencies And I wish more than anything a lesser abundance, Because maybe if we strove for levelness we would not be parted by the differences of our substance. But aiming for solubility was foolish, For you and I are oil and water, And all we are left with are needless regrets and past tenses.
Thursday, 01 October 2009
I spent the day trying to remember what I couldn't stop thinking of when we fought. I've been trying to recall how narcissistic you are and how tender you are not. Failed attempts, mine, to relive the fights we created for the sole purpose of feeling anything negative aside from the fact that you left too easily. I'm a mess, at this moment, and I can't remember if I was more so, with you. I understand all the reasons I hated you but I can't seem to remember how it feels. I'm so desperate for anything to evade the confession that I still love you.
