hungoverpsyduck asked: I really like the "my strange addictions" you wrote that was dope
This is the state of mind you put me in.
You place me
Not even delicately
Here on this table with your regrets and overwhelming love for other women:
Here I am baby
How do you like it?
I already know
Sadly and somewhat not
How you do.
You’ll hate me when you learn more about me
You’ll think about me in a disgusting way
And I’ll think of you lovingly
Because our relationship is nothing like I’ve ever experienced before.
I’m going to leave now
I’m going to check on your whereabouts
But I’m scared
Because you yell at me
When I’m not where you originally
I’m going to put my clothes on
And walk to a place where I can check up on you
Where the music isn’t blasting
Where my reflection isn’t seen
Where you hate my writing
where I hate you for it
Where you never have even thought about me at all.
And I’ll stand there
Waiting for you to tell me to stop
To tell me things I hate
But I listen anyway because I love you for all your complexities
And then apparently
I’m going to turn away.
I didn’t want to
I never have wanted to
Want want want
Wanting wanting wanting
You to touch me
To feel me
To feel who I am-
This concrete being
This concrete state
I’ve stuck myself in.
You don’t see it.
You don’t see me.
Or do you?
Please tell me you do.
We were smoking a spliff on the beach talking about the sound of the sky and laughing at the sense we didn’t make.
You’re always pointing out my mistakes
But I don’t mind
Because I always wish you were here
Swimming around our decorated fish bowl
Talking about our fears and constellations.
I lucid dreamt about you
While you regular dreamt about me,
And we woke up tripping on thoughts so lovely we couldn’t speak of them, Couldn’t even open our mouths at all.
Bite marks cover our arms and legs and hearts
And you growl at the sight of them.
A dedicated song here,
An unsmoked cigarette there,
You walk through the streets of our conjoined mind
While I follow like a little lost puppy,
When all you want
is your black cat back.
We fooled around but never kissed.
It was a rule of yours,
Kissing was extra special.
You would linger above me
Ask me if I wanted you to fuck me,
And of course I did.
Then we stood in your kitchen
And you wrapped your hand
Round the back of my neck
And told me not to be afraid.
I felt high,
It didn’t happen again until last night.
“Come on, come on, it’s okay.”
It was so, so much more than that.
your insides become coated with the sound of his voice,
your skin grows cold faster and easier without his hands
gripping and grabbing at you
like you’re some creature he wants to catch.
your favorite movies change,
you wince when someone else calls you
by the nickname he carefully picked out for you.
it gets a lot harder to talk about what you’re feeling.
you drink alone more,
usually liquor or the occasional bottle of wine.
your body starts to hate you,
your mind even more.
you can’t sleep at night
you can’t get up in the morning
you can’t bring yourself to give back the clothes you took
because it means losing his smell.
you walk around blindly looking for his features in faces so foreign it freaks you out. you walk around blindly looking for someone new to hold. you walk around blindly looking for where you last left your heart. you walk around blindly, head spinning from the heat and hair frizzing from the humidity.
By you and your masochism
And how you show it
To both my body and mind.
“I came here to ask you just one question,
did you fuck him more than once?”
The look on your face,
It was too much for me.
I was in my goddamn underwear drinking gin,
4 AM yet again.
Awkward phrasing on both parts
When we tried to put in to words
Just what we’ve been drinking about all month.
“Didn’t you notice I hadn’t come over in a while? Didn’t you want…”
“I don’t know how to finish that sentence.”
"Well that’s all I wanted to know,
I’ll see you later,” you tried
Since I was thrown on to the bed not a minute later.
"I can’t stay, Sarah."
I rolled on top of you
Kissed the bite marks on your shoulder
Held you down,
Looked at you the only way I know how.
You left three hours later.
we were laughing in different languages,
sucking words from each others lips
and plucking meaning from each others eyes.
it had been so long since you looked at me like that.
i watch the same movies over and over again,
sometimes more than twice a week-
i mouth my favorite lines,
sometimes even say them out loud.
i pause it when i cry,
and let it dig deeper.
i can’t finish my cigarettes in one sitting anymore,
i ash it halfway.
i let it sit on my bedside table
with my advil and bitten pencils,
then return to it later for an easy fix.
sometimes i even wake up with one waiting for me.
it’s not the same with liquor,
for it’s usually gulped down quick.
my hand doesn’t leave the glass until it’s gone
and i’m asking for another
no chaser, no water,
my throat burns with pleasure and i smile.
three different situations
and yet i relate you
to every one.
—my strange addictions
in the folds of my brain.
I couldn’t bare to let it linger in my ears.
Yet you couldn’t help but laugh even louder
when you woke me up at 4 AM,
still in my black dress and boots,
still wanting you.
"You look absolutely adorable sleeping like that but I’m going to need you to take all that off, now,"
I stretched and lifted my arms,
your cue to do the undressing.
Eyes still closed,
I felt your mouth near my neck,
your stare on my smudged makeup,
your hands meticulously unzipping
both my dress and mind
and pent up pining for this moment.
I still hear you laughing.
The page before this one was ripped out. It confuses me. Sort of irks me. What was there before? A rejected poem? A note for a friend? A drawing of someone I’d like to forget?
The sink leaks. Some water drops. It hits the porcelain. I watch it drip down until it’s diving in to the drain. Where does it go? Would it like some company?
So many questions. No answers. No scientific facts to aid my brain. No one cares, not even me. I just enjoy the occasional glass of wine or nine to calm my wired thoughts. It helps the buzzing stop. The aches I feel for twelve hundred other people who are not by my side subside for a few hours. I don’t let myself sober up until I’m fucking someone who will help them walk to the back of my brain.
This only happens in cycles.