Forgetting.

I’m pinned to the wall collecting dead skin cells from all the lovers you’ve pressed up against me.

I’m pinned to your forehead like a note your mother leaves when you take a nap.

I’m pinned to the door, swinging aimlessly in an abandoned house that’s going to fall apart soon.

I’m pinned to your lips, as they kiss the back of her hand.

I’m pinned to all these beautiful dreams of yours, that are sitting in a forgotten old cabinet in your study.

I’m pinned to every place you’ve been: Spain, Russia, France. Here.

I’m pinned to the underside of the coffee table you put your feet on while you watch TV.

I’m pinned to the insecurities you think about when you’re alone.

I’m pinned to that relationship you know you should fix, but don’t.

I’m pinned to your chest, like the girl in your bed last night was.

I’m pinned to the drops of sweat running down your neck, cold and distracting.

I’m pinned to all the lies you hate yourself for telling.

I’m pinned to your breath, your lungs, your throat, the top of your mouth.

I’m pinned to the music playing as you sleep.

I’m pinned to the moment when you think of me, and then push me away to the back of your mind.

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Angels & Constellations


There’s cracks in the bedroom ceiling. 

we looked up from our place on the ground as we slept on hard-wood floors

and claimed we could pin-point certain constellations

and we were dragging black crayons between the lines

because (for the first time) we wanted to prove something to ourselves.

We weren’t out of minds just yet.

we shifted the bed to the other side of the room

and moved the dresser in front of the window;

to block out memories of the outside and all the hurt we’d felt before.

we’d sweep up dust-angels and watch them follow our lungs down.

We weren’t ready to leave just yet.

incense would burn holes in our eyesight and fog our common sense

and we’d watch the smoke twist around our fingers all night long.

we were twirling and swirling and curling our toes

beneath the summer sun and glow of artificial light until we couldn’t feel a thing.

i don’t think we could support ourselves.

There’s cracks in the bedroom ceiling.

and you left behind a letter addressed to what you saw in me,

stained with howling winds and the wolves that hid in the shadows.

you said you missed the outside but you were lying and now you’re gone.

i threw stones at the door and cried all night;

now this is just another empty apartment.

i moved the bed again

but i still can’t stop waking up on the wrong side.

Make me forget 

(Laying myself bare)

You almost made me forget, love.

You almost made me forget the hurt; the pain; the sorrow.

You almost made me forget about the emptiness:

 You almost made me forget his name.

You almost gave me hope;

You almost made me think that I might be whole again;

                                    Someday

 You almost gave me hope that I can be fixed, 

 You almost made me think that maybe,

 I could fall in love again.

 You gave me hope that maybe; I really wasn’t this

                               B-R/O-K/E-N

You almost made my heart beat faster,

You almost made me really smile, 

You almost made me want to let you in;

You almost made me want to be with you;

You almost made me think I could be happy.

You almost made me forget, sir.

You almost made me forget that he and I ever happened.

You almost made me forget his face & his eyes; the color of deep emeralds.

You almost made me forget the way he kissed me,

You almost made me forget the way his savagery felt.

You almost made me forget.

                                      {Why couldn’t you make me forget?}

You almost gave me hope that I was strong,

You almost made me think that I had enough left to make it through,

                                   You almost gave me hope.

  You almost made me think you could heal me,

  You almost made me wanna try and make it work with you,

  You almost became my light;

  You almost became something to keep me together.

  You almost kept me from falling apart.

  You almost made me forget.

Sir, I want to forget.

I want to forget they way he looked at me with his dark forest eyes.

                        I want to forget his taste,

                        I want to forget his face

                        I want to forget the way he said my pet;

                        I want to forget the way he said he loved me.

                        I want to forget he ever claimed to love me.

                        I want to forget his scent,

                        I want to forget the way his arms wrapped so tightly around my throat;

                        I want to forget the way it felt to have me fear him.

                        I want to forget.

                        {ithurtstoremember}

Please, sir, make me forget

{therestoomuchpaininthememories}

MAKE ME FORGET!

 Please;

 I don’t wanna remember.

These memories are haunting me,
But you keep the demons away,

So will you please stay?

You almost made me forget,

 You almost gave me hope

  You almost made me want you

& You could have succeeded in all these things but,

                               You left.

You left me alone for one short moment,

But it was long enough for the pain to come back,

& by the time you returned, I remembered everything.

You almost made me forget-

 I need to forget!

 
Sir, make me forget.

 Look at me with your summer-storm eyes,

 & be my summer rain in the dead of winter,

 Wash away my hurt, cleanse me.

  Drown everything out be the very existence of you, of me, of us.

I need to be held together,

So wrap me up in your arms and hold me close,

Don’t let go;

I don’t wanna fall apart tonight.

Hold me closely,

Let me heal in your protective embrace,

Let me forget,

Erase my pain with your words and whips.

I don’t know exactly where this is going 

All I know is that I need you, you make me forget the pain

& Right now, that’s exactly what I need,

Sir, please hold me, kiss me, tell me you care,

& Make me forget as only you ever can.

Prose play

You probably didn’t notice the empty bottles of gin on the dresser beside my bed where you fucked me. I guess I can’t really call it rape if you said, “Spread your legs, babe” and I listened. It was hard for you to hold me after that; I was shivering and shaking and crumbling into pieces, and you know, it’s hard to hold a body that’s just pieces. You can fuck my body, but that doesn’t mean shit— it’s hard to hold a body when the hands are silently catching stardust in a daydream.

I had a dream that I was hit by a car on my way to your house. Losing blood wasn’t even what was important about it. What mattered was that I had repressed emotions that needed an escape route. I heard an ambulance in the distance, but I was just fine. I limped the rest of the way to your house and left a trail of blood on the path. Had to let you know that the suicidal thoughts do not glitter; they’re not shards of glass that you feel pressing into your skin. They’re not bright like headlights gleaming in your face while you’re sinking in the passenger’s seat, drowning in the idle talk dripping from the driver’s mouth. Surprisingly, they’re not wet like tears or blood; they’re dried up, and what’s been drained from me has no colour. My thoughts are colourless—they don’t shine.

Pricked you with a fork and looked for your soul’s escape route, but you didn’t fall out; you stayed in your body, and instead I was the bleeding mess on the floor. It was your bedroom floor mess, you called it. I left the vomit exactly how it spilled out— the belly of an angel and her glittery muck. What a mess, you say, what a goddess. It was my brain spat out into physical reminders. 

Someone once told me that every ten years, your body is completely anew, like your cells have died and been replaced by new ones so you’re not the same hunk of matter you once were, but you’re somehow still you because you have your memories. 

8am. park sitting, I am thinking about you. I am thinking about when I was passed out on the couch at the pub and you were putting your shoes on at the door. Your voice was the sound of my favourite record spinning while the fabric of the couch was fading from my touch. With my head fading out of our conversation, your voice was cracking in all the right spots, breaking me in all the right places. One day I’ll see your face smiling in a fogged window from the outside, and it won’t hurt the way it does right now. 
I sit here home now,a hunk of this. Thinking. Looking at pictures. You can swim in the distance in his eyes. You made that distance gallons of water to drown yourself in. Liquid kisses— the sex with the glittering orgasms— your touch was first neon and electric, then it was snowflakes landing on the skin, and now it’s just clouds in the sky.