And again please.
It’s a feeling of silver—quick
to the cut: to stand on a red
planet in the shadow of fear.
It’s a feeling of burning—stakes
being raised: never certain just
which action leads to the haunting.
It’s a feeling of hollow—space
in my chest: a home in the dark
where the warm tones might echo.
It’s a feeling of hiding–fog
to cut through: in a cadence
of footfalls on dimly lit roads.
It’s a feeling of greatness—gold
to be smelted: proud golem of
ingots at the foot of the forge.
It’s a feeling of waiting—of
loss before losing: knowing fire
could burn if only it’s fed.
Be a critic please.
this is how we say goodbye:
nonsense and vagueness,
plans to visit,
hopes to follow through.
we know the cost of travel.
we know our income.
one number is bigger.
this is how i say goodbye:
words scribbled in notebooks
like an apology
that I’m sure i owe;
i fucked up again.
that hurt just to start.
staggering through conversations
that i can’t let end.
snow sublimated in the spring,
appeared and was gone.
the world turned to smoke
sometimes there is only smoke
in the end. in an, otherwise, empty room.
this wine’s gone sour in my mouth
and the whiskey tastes like regret.
things undone. life unloved.
and the fear of this being the last time.
Don’t trust charming. Why? Because the boy who can talk all the right words knows it too well. Things like boys and love aren’t meant to be practiced like that, it should be a bit awkward- it should be raw.
The best advice I’ve ever received. (via perfect)