unsent letter #256
brushing up against you
blindfolded
warmblush and crush and crumble and
hands that tremble
what changed in 30 minute increments
30 day sheets that
we rip away
when they pass?
we ride elephants in the desert and i
brush my cold fingers against your
windstained face
knowing how you hate what i
am made of
how these addictions make us
sicker by the day...
plush these beds, these petals
this over-romanticized tragic notion
i held onto
we fit side by side in this envelope
so perfectly
and she told me she wished
you were the person i thought
you would be
my hands are empty but open
and they wash me in their dreams of
you and me
and everything we ever said was a misunderstanding
every time we touched was a one night stand
every i love you was a dying echo
every gift was bound to turn to dust
and sift through fingers
every time we fell
we already had picked a new place to land
he knows about the hollow places
that you left inside me
the places where i'll never feel alive
he knows there's a laugh i only laughed with you
a smile only you saw
and i still get angry when i'm not wondering what you're doing
and i still get sad when i'm not half smirking at your jokes
and i have no serenity to accept the things i cannot change
no courage to change what i could
and so it really doesn't matter if i can tell the difference
and when i'm lying in someone else's bed
crying into lavender pillows
aching into all these pieces
it really doesn't count
that i was strong enough
to finallywalk away...
