revisiting - the past three months and a handful of nonsense.

it's starting again with this horrible cycle that builds and demolishes with a tricky synchronization. this passion, once absent, reclaims its territory--lighting some unknown, hopeful thing, and i can rise like the same flames that are consuming me. i've been here so long, pain as my walls, that it's all starting to feel like home to me.

and there are things that i shouldn't think about. this is one of them.

falling against you was the worst thing i did that night, but hopefully, neither of us will remember that once we wake up - respective beds heavy with the weight of guilt or easy with forgetfulness. mattress impressed with these solid dreams of - goddamn - i can't think these thoughts - you aren't that to me - even if you could be - i can't - it's so complicated to feel around this middle ground.

these distractions work best when i make no excuses for them. i'm purging - your lips - his torso - that breath. any more pressure, and it will explode; my heart, a gooey mass resting and dripping over the shallow walls of my ribcage.

for the love of god, let's talk about timing. i've had a lot to drink. riding on the sour wings of drunk, i can feel the change. that makes me feel better. the pain just hardens and rolls into the closet to sit and wait for morning to come.

i can't compete, and so i don't. you're all better to the soundtrack i create. i won't cry for you. i won't yearn for that which i cannot have. you made your decision, live with it. i won't be that girl. i don't want to be that person. i don't want to be anyone ... not to you. you can't be what i lost ... not ever. please stop trying. i'm not worth it.

the rain has started to fall, and in my head, letters are writing themselves to people who will never get them.

he's above, on other levels - eating clouds - punching angels. i hope they know how he loves.

i'm in some state now. rare form, they call it. chain-smoking (but i quit?) absorbed in my dead love's poetry. ink on my fingers. everything's lacking that color i once knew.

and i sleep in this shirt i stole off your back. you didn't even notice when i took it. slipped it effortlessly from your relaxed torso, up over smooth shoulder blades, and from around those cumbersome arms. now it's warm color covers my ribs and breasts with all those memories of you sleeping in my bed. i guess you left because i have nothing left to give you. that's fair. i would have done the same.

it's coming slower now. slow and steady. it's an IV drip of pain.