stone cold sober

You remain.

I have buried you so far in my darkness,
and prayed for your suffocation.

But still you breathe, still you beat,
A steady rhythm in the back of my mind,
a metronome of mistake tick-tick-ticking.

you remain, you are not remains.
you should be a skeleton, stark white and starved;
shoved to the back of my closet, all bones and death.

But still, you breathe, still you beat,
you are pounding down the doors,
screaming through my hallways.

you remain,

you remind,

you have become the darkness,
creeping in, crawling across my skin, caressing my heart.
You breathe, you burn, you beat (ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum).

you remain.

wishes from the undertow

I never claimed loving me would be easy.
(you begged me to make it fair–
I shoved a knife in the space between your ribs
and ate your breath to the rhythm of your surprise).

I always had this notion,
that you belonged not with me
but to me.
(that was our final undoing. that
act of possession over partnership).

I can still feel the slide of you lips
against my skin as I took your first kiss
(the world you were all to happy to part with),
the spark of your body as, years later,
I took your innocence, your convictions
(it was all too easy).

(you never quite gave up the hold on your heart).

I never wanted it to end this way.
(you made me your villian–
I took the shape of the words you left unsaid,
and in their absense became brighter than the force of your soul).

you spent years asking me to write
the final page,
gloss the finish you couldn’t
quite grasp.

(the beginnings that sprouted
from the pages I burned
are more beautiful than I
ever could’ve put to words).


my last gift to you.

Open Letter to Former Lovers.

I keep racking my brain, trying to figure out the best way to rid myself of you. There have been countless words, unending tears, random boys and girls, and more heartbreak than I thought possible since I left your life.

History has always been a hard thing for me to walk away from. And although we were together for such a short time, you’ve been a part of me since before, before this beginning, before this life.

I always focus on the wrong thing when it comes to you. The wrong moment in time. As soon as I start thinking about the beginning, it’s already ending.

That’s the thing about history; it can deceive you. It’s so easy to get caught up in the way the past connects you. It’s so easy to become blind to the way the present is tearing you apart. I think I always knew how we were going to end, the quiet strangle of our demise. After all, how could it have ended any other way?

I was always going to walk away.

You were always going to be the better person.

What I didn’t predict or expect was just how hard I would fall for you, how deep the rabbit hole would go. I never expected to give you all of me. I have grown in that absence, grown hard, grown weary. I forgot how to love after you. You left a fissure so large I separated. You took something from me, you took my love and my trust.

I wonder, every day, if you ever loved me. Did I mean anything to you at all?

It doesn’t matter. I’ve been looking at this wrong the whole time. I don’t need to move on from you, I need to move forward from the girl that loved you. I need to let go of the pieces of myself that I let you infect. I need to cut myself down, until I can rebuild myself. I need to completely dismantle myself and start from scratch. I need to carve out the heart that learned your rhythm. But even knowing what I need to do, even with you worlds away and back to a better place, I don’t want to lose you completely. (I can’t lose you, because you never mine to lose. You were never mine).

I know that someday my logic will rule out over my emotion. I know that someday this fresh new scar will bloom into a new person, that this pain is just the healing itch.

I gave you all of me. And I want to thank you for taking me. I have no regrets.

I hope you’re really happy. Because I’m going to be.

-E

the wrong moments

i’m just waiting for you to tell me
all the ways love isn’t enough.
i don’t think i’d blame you.
after all, i was the one who ate the apple;
you were just the man that loved me
without knowing what love was.

so don’t.
see the fruit in my hand and remember
adam and eve. persephone and hades.
remember the ways that I betray you,
remember my fascination with the snake in the grass,
remember that I am just a girl with pomegranate lips
and I will continue to poison you.

we are the same constellation in the sky,
but i am just a nebula and you are still
living, breathing, existing; you are
light entering my eyes–

and though
we exist within the same sphere,
we are already a billion light years
and a whole galaxy apart.

The Spaces Between Our Lives

Why does the beginning always feel like the end?

every breath you take is just foreshadowing the moment your lungs cease.

every beat of your heart is a beat closer to slowing.

every word from your mouth might be the last to touch your lips.

when you touch my skin I feel like a dying star, moments away from supernova.

when you enter my bloodstream, I feel the way my pulse changes to accommodate you.

why does it feel like every time we’re ending, we’re just breaths away from the next heartbeat?