i snapped, and kissed the gravel,
each strand of my sanity
slowly began to unravel.
so tight knit it seemed,
but the anger comes so easily.
diving in, I plant my fist
into the wall
it's paper thin.
i crumple the letter,
that I sent proposing
we tie the loose ends
back together.
slingshots and these thoughts
propel me into
a theme park.
coasting through emotions,
I'm hoping
this is worth it.
unplugged.
powered down
and unplugged.
you wrap the cord
around my wrists.
bound- a tied on frown.
I tried to drown
in your tears,
but they woke me.
unspoken, your lips
sealed tight.
your cheeks
seem to crack
as I force a smile.
painting red cheeks
with fingerprints.
tattooed with bruises
and scrapes
that dwell inside.
because from out here
I still see your shine.
Sundays turn into Seattle
It was the usual Sunday morning,
forced out of bed;
the birds reset the alarm clock.
No breakfast again.
So I feed off the bread crumbs
that she left behind.
The smell of cigarettes
and regret hits me
like a ton of bricks.
black static inherits the
thoughts I threw away
yesterday
A simple trail,
took me to Seattle
where it's never dry.
rain that'll wash the pain
down the drains,
but the puddles never leave.
They over stay their welcome,
just as I.
I search for her heart,
listen for the familiar rhythm.
I'm lost in the pavement,
taking steps I've seen by others.
They seem to have it down,
left, right, forward- s
Where it starts, and where it begins,
the bus stop bench, a home for sins.
many nights I've almost died in this spot,
but somehow I always wake up- eyes bloodshot.
as if; someone's watching over me, could it be?
that a guardian angel is keeping me from heaven's scene.
I've never believed in God, he took everything I had hidden
corrupted my thoughts and made me addicted.
a few moments pass, and the temperature steepens,
the fog rolls in, as if in a supernatural sequence.
I catch her walking, from the corner of my eye,
she takes a seat but then she starts to cry.
something about her, familiarity overwhelms me,
but I stay quiet, as