He'll come by night, when memories
resurrect and dreams become real. He'll
steal the air from my lungs, again, and
replace it with promises of a better day.
The sky will open up and I will finally
drop into place.
(the sweetest love story for an insomniac)
He hides in the shallowest holes of my
brain, waiting, waiting- the best things
in life only come to those who've
never been given a chance.
I'm falling apart, like all the worst clichés.
and my knees are bloodied, now, they
weren't built to pray. He said he'd come back
in the stories he carved in my palms.
(can you hear my heart tick? These
days are numbered)
the words he gave me died
and maybe I did, too