untitled.

my incandescent fingers against the cool shower wall reminds me of every single time your eyes locked to me. i can’t shake it. you are always there. with your hands against my bare back, droplets from your nose beating down on my neck as i gasped for air through the steam. i grip myself against the tiles. i still gasp for air. but you’re never there to catch me once i’ve fallen. i thought this would pass with the sunset but for some reason i still wake up with my fingernails digging into my wrists and my teeth scraping against my tongue; i can’t help but miss your warmth.

but really how hard is it to find someone else to scratch their nails against my thighs?

!

i apologize i do not post quite often anymore. i sort of have grown really over protective of my writing, especially since a lot of people i now know in person have eyes on my poems again. and that’s fine, but it makes me a little uncomfortable. these words are my life, they are my heart on paper (or, on blog) and i get a little antsy. plus, i am not always a bucket of inspiration. sometimes my poems are terrible and my confidence is not there and i can’t bring myself to put it up. so, i’m sorry if you anticipate my poems and i’m not delivering. i love you guys though. thank you for always listening and liking and being there. it means so much to me. there aren’t many of you, but i love you anyway. <3.

the hardest part is letting go.

your words consistently echo through my head and leave my heart tied to anchors. please, please, whisper next time or my ear drums will shatter. that crooked smile only stings my apetite to hug you to my body again. 

things.

sometimes the ache of loneliness is so gripping and unbearable my chest hurts and it’s hard to breathe. it only takes a moment to bubble back to the surface of reality and remind myself that self preservation is the only importance in this world. a person will only weigh me down.

dirty looks exchanged by old friends always sting. but i keep my heart light for better days. the fault is not in me, it is in the stars, written in fate itself, inscribed in our design. my brown boots touch the linoleum floors with such stillness, i am almost forgotten. but once her ice cold stare fell into mine, i dug my fingers into the counter and glanced right back. i don’t fight fair, either.