someone care.....or at least pretend totiredtiredtired
theend
something more eloquent...I counted 200 in my sleep Lines dashed marking unwilling hopes Dreaming of screaming and the sorts Of nightmares that wake you cryingsomething more eloquent...
Imaginary fumbling Tumbling in absent mindedness Invisible indifference
Tainting bound sheets red for sadness
Unknowing why the shortest Of endeavours wrecked my rib cage Where my little yellow heart Would reside if it had not been squashed
Made wingless under sturdy boots That could not scratch for lack of fingers Instead proved my theories right Warning: sweetie I'm a Viking
I hope this letter finds you..on the evening youI hope this letter finds you..
fully realize you've spent the past (half-decade) doing nothing but fumbling at
relationships you will be
twenty-nine and all too aware of the feel of youth fragile
and fading
mostly un- broken of your bad habits
confusing
used to have with exclusion from the hasn'ts
searching
fistfuls of
water for drops of
inspiration still
spilling your heart out everywhere
when measuring moments your life &
probably is not yeshere is a picture of us cutting through the red tape that is poetic language. i think i lied, i don't want you to care for me, but i do want you to remember me. you shouldn't ask me how- you say you will, but it is more judicial if i ask you how.probably is not yes
i want you to remember me as a beautiful girl though i've never been beautiful, the person who has loved the hardest in the history of the world, with you as her object. i might be a headlong disaster on two legs but i wish it were something in my heartbeat which could help you stay alive. i wish a dream were enough, but i know it isn't. i don't know how you are to remember me when i do
lover without the lovei don't tie my shoes for you anymore,lover without the love
but do wish to
stop dreaming so soundly without any real thought but with too much real hope,
singing to my empty palms, and apologising for every letter i will never send.
lover is not smiling,
head dangling
between his legs he is crying
and breathing, doing neither
too well.
touch him and he will bleed; love him and he will hurt; leave him and he will die.
i hold my breath and turn it red, still fal
Miserable
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
xo!
shane
--
an antique arms and armor expert
but there are better parts to it
thanks for the comments
i love you
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