Nothing more than a resilient woman
with sad eyes, an empty heart,
and chains that bind her
to the haunting darkness
that’s made a home
in her own mind
all your demons, oh I knew
fought them off with a sword
held you tighter when they pushed through
now you rewrite the tale, blinded by rage
paint me as nothing more than the villain,
still taking up every page
I hate the way I still fight for you
I hate the way I still hope for you
I hate the way I still ache for you
I hate the way I still cry for you
I hate the way I still crave you
I hate the way I still feel for you
I hate what remains of you
I hate the way
I wonder what’s a greater curse – never knowing love, or having met your greatest love and losing it all.
You didn’t lose love, it’s still here. It still burns brighter than all the stars in the galaxy. Even on the darkest of nights – it’s still there.
Do you ever wonder why we had that extra night? Like it was gifted to us. I don’t always believe in higher powers or things happening for a reason, but it’s things like this that make me question it all.
My flight was cancelled, do you remember? The winds were too strong – planes couldn’t take off. They had to put all the travelers up in an airport hotel. An inconvenience to most travelers, sure. But for us? But now? All I can think about is how grateful I am to have had that one extra night indulging in you. As if some higher power knew what greater storm we were about to face, so it stirred up that wind storm and kept me close to you.
One extra night in the same time zone, where it wasn’t London and New York. Just you and me.
One extra night spent laughing with you between every kiss. One extra night with our bodies intertwined between the sheets. One extra night sharing dinner together, smiling and chatting without a care in the world. One extra night sleeping with my arms holding you tightly against me and refusing to let go. One extra night singing along to show tunes and giggling as we stumbled over the wrong words.
One extra night of love.
One extra night of warmth.
One extra night of us.
One extra night of all the things I miss most.
One extra night of all the things I didn’t appreciate enough until long after my flight touched back down.
I still look for you in every book. In every lyric. In every line of poetry. In every episode of television. In each movie I watch for the hundredth time. I still look for you among a sea of strangers in a crowded room. In the emptiest of places. In every piece of artwork. I still look for you, even in my loneliest dreams.
The silent self mutilation of climbing into fresh bedsheets dusted with the scent of you and gripping tight, realizing all my nights are spent sleeping with a ghost.
Do we still look up and see the same sky? Some days, it feels impossible to even feel certain anymore.
hundreds of red rose petals and all the reasons I’ll always love you, set ablaze and scattered like ashes lost in the wind.
Everyone thinks I’m so open,
so vulnerable and easy to comprehend.
Black and white,
all spelled out in pretty prose.
But then they peel back another layer
reveal something new
and uncover a new puzzle,
desperate to be unwound.
It’s not as easy
as they make it seem.
Do you still think of me as you fall asleep?
Do you reach for me in the middle of the night
the way I still reach for you?
I’m drowning over and over,
and still praying the tide
will bring me back to you.
I’ve been inside my apartment for nearly five months now.
But I’ve never felt further away from home.
It’s down to the wire, a toothless thread of hope that I’ll still cling to. After all, what else do I have left to hold?