somewhere in the middle 11

…outside the air was warm
the breeze was hot
my skin was burning with the weight of the ocean
and it was all a sweet distraction from the soft click of a closing door
i saw the sun today
i saw it today everywhere in every direction
in the corner of my eyes each way i turned
and it was a sweet distraction from what used to be nothing
i felt lost today
i felt as if i didn’t know where i was going
where i would end up soon
like this direction i was going in was new
like i should have turned around
i felt lost today
because before
you were always the final destination
i felt lost today
but some piece of me
felt that this new turn was right
i felt empty today
because a piece of me a size i couldn’t fathom was being ripped away
torn piece by piece
clawed by my own fingernails
and i didn’t know how to make it okay for me
a piece of me a size i couldn’t fathom was gone
and i didn’t turn around to chase it
didn’t look for it any longer
didn’t pause my life to test how much it could hurt and how much longer i could keep it there
i let it go
and i was hoping it to be one of the best decisions i’ve ever made
second to choosing you before
because as much as you removed the ground from under me when i was kneeling on it to stay alive
because as much as you withheld love from me to give to yourself
you were a love i got used to
a love i became addicted to
a love that enticed what was empty
seduced what was lonely
a love i never knew
because you were a love i got used to
you were a love
a love that destroyed and rebuilt
only once
you were a love
a love that wasn’t much of a love at all…

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somewhere in the middle 10

…i left that room for the last time
and didn’t look back
didn’t want a lasting image of what perfected love looked like
i left that room for the last time
no thoughts of ever returning
to a love that gave up on me
and you were there
no longer on the couch
and no longer caring
you were there
with a drowning heart
and inside of me waves were crashing against thinning skin
but i didn’t slow down
i kept going
kept going out of your life
and into my own…

somewhere in the middle 9

…i shoved clothes into a bag
because i couldn’t stay here
not like this
not with you
when reminders lingered across the walls
and hid in the crevices of the ugly curtains
i couldn’t stay here
not like this
not with you
when reminders of love made itself comfortable in our sheets
or slamming doors echoed in my ear
and rainstorms replayed over and over
i couldn’t stay here
not like this
not with you
because i knew
just like that one time
when the clouds were blue inside
and rage made my skin burn
the sky was a stormy gray
inside
and you
you
opened closed door after closed door
laid beside me
wrapped yourself into my arms
and cooled ignited rage
and somehow then
i was asking for your forgiveness…

Just a writer

So there’s some lights on my wall and a few of them are fading a little more each night and no this is not a setting for them. The ones that aren’t fading keeps hope alive that one day I might be able to reach them. You choose a playlist collect a few songs and sit down with them in the nighttime a fan circles in the summer heat and erases the words on the tips of your fingers so you grab the keyboard, ready the fingers on the home row willing them to fly as fast as the words read on the screen on your brain and soon words are erased with every blink of a threatening cursor and you’re just a writer so you don’t know how to forgive a cursor who’s only doing the job it’ll always have and that’s not it’s fault but you’re just a writer and none of your feelings are healthy because you can’t separate those from fiction. You’re just a writer who’s lost like every other writer and yearning for something better like fingers that won’t cramp on the grasp of a pen because you barely remember how to hold one and paper that doesn’t run out of space when your mind and tongue and fingers are in sync because turning to a new page eats up time you already wasted but you’re just a writer and the strings of lights on your wall don’t listen to your wishes but swear they read the last thing you wrote.