rai-rai-raygun

it is spring now and somehow you have found a way back into my life. you asked me without saying a word to jump with you. jump, and you would catch me.         hitting the ground was the cruelest way to learn what alone really is. a slamming door. a beating heart. a ticking clock.                 sometimes i need to know why things work, and why people give up.   you have been avoiding me like gunfire, afraid of the damage i might do to you.         my hair grows even w

this is the month of grief. my lips are red and raw as hell; further proof that i am not made for this kind of battering.          and maybe i am happy but i am still the girl who cried the night you left; the drive home full of the knowledge that things were about to change and trying to hold back sobs that wracked my frame and tore my lungs. this truth is not one that i had planned on; i didn't see those hands slip into mine and hold me like they had been there all along. what i saw were lazy Sundays, discussing futures we might have and not enough courage to see the look on your face when you

And without claws to protect my cheekbones, I have been avoiding questions like bullets.        Breathing has been getting in the way of hiding under covers and since I cannot change, one of these habits will have to be broken. I do not remember the hum of hunger anymore; running too fast and not far enough to escape the static in my eyelids. The sound of sunsets is almost enough to compensate for the empty bed, the inadequacies of a wallflower.        And do not lie to me; your eyes have always given you away and I can see the lungs crossed in your chest.         impostor. Lately I've been getting by mostly hidden and I cannot seem to

Lost in coffee rings and thoughts, I know I am not myself. And I cannot keep time with this rapid fire reality.         Flash-floods are not my idea of romantic; you cannot be this ghostly presence behind me, choosing my hands only when yours are lonely. My fingers are always freezing without your own to hold them and the knot in my shoulders that only you can remedy has been the reminder that I have not seen you for five months and three moons. There is no reason for sides of the bed when only one is ever filled, so I have claimed the middle ground (lately I've been sleeping on the couch, in the free

the snow came down in sparkles, and all i could think about was you. maybe i'm not ready for you to be gone but i'm ready to let you go. i need a newer model and a different muse to occupy my hands and heart. i'm sewing through my fingers and pinning lips shut because i don't want to give you truth. lately, all i've thrown at you is excuses and you've done nothing but fumble and drop them. you always were a terrible catch. i have a stalker sitting behind me and fireworks in my hair; today is a good day to jump off the roof and fly.                  there are unsaid words in my fingertips and you're trying to coax them out with the promise

The moon is changing. i can feel it; from the empty nail beds to the red raw heels of overworked souls and the darting eyes of people who don't know where to turn.          i've stopped looking in your direction because all it shows me is that you aren't there. and i need you to be or i need to let you go and then you need to be so far away that i'll never think of you again.          every time you questioned my affection, i felt the thousand stabbing needles of distrust and the now familiar sensation of ripping hair from head. i'm sorry; i was not strong enough to keep climbing this wall you kept pushing me back over, when the only gre

this love is not something i asked for. i did not seek it out but i can't seem to shake this feeling of dread and i'm turning corners like nobody's business. these arms are unwanted, i don't need to hear the words. it's enough that we both know it and now i say goodnight long before my eyes punch pillowcases and the sheets scratch down my sides in compliance. i backtracked a day and all i could do is whisper to the waves and say goodbye. my heart is the tail on her kite and as it stumbles once again, i sigh and let it fall apart, hit the ground. i haven't been able to find my mind for twenty seven hours and the look you're giving me across

i am busy dying in this house. you lick your lips and announce that we could run away, but i know you never would. you have things like oil-stained car parts and empty bowls keeping you here. i'm swallowing keys to all the spaces in my heart that you will never find and i can see the green in your eyes. running hands over hipbones, i am safe inside myself. this half of a girl has collarbones for company - they speak louder than megaphones                                                                                           - and a phone to remember the ache of distance. your voice will never be anything but static anymore and i've l

pathological liar, thinker, hider. you're hoping i might change and i wish you would; these days even the moon doesn't bother with me. i'm tired of this weariness, my bones are not so indelicate that even they will not strain under the weight. my collarbones are aching from being stretched too thin and i'm still asking how you are. my narcolepsy is not so endearing, darling, that it will not wear on your nerves. i'm sleeping through anything that might matter and i'm making no apologies for it; i've far too many to give out without adding more. even the siren's scream could not wake me, i fear, and your half-attempt is not even close. the

My hands are covered in chemicals and the acid from your throat. I am trying but I won't change and neither will you, so we will drift and I never want to see you again. Your scent lingers in my mind and my heart is electric, hooked up to a blender for your convenience. My hair is different now so maybe you won't recognize me and I can pass you without having a panic attack. You still swear you love me, and I never did believe you. My spine is pulsing with the knowledge of loneliness and I am wearing my best dress for you, doll. The window marked EXIT is covered with tobacco ads and numbers for escorts; this is no escape. Summer is a forever