About things that you are desperate to forget but you cant let them go because you want to hope that you don’t have to and you aren’t even sure if they are real

 

Stains of later lifetimes rise upon the mess of a little girl

Feet worn and soft she watched them

Those disconnected spoons as they lay waiting for different things

It is seeping in everywhere like stale cigarette scents

And her face is too delicate for the thoughts she has inside

Its all made of angles that curve when your are not looking

And she paints is and it doesn’t help

It doesn’t hide a soft clicking wasting the silences of trying

 And you,

You’re just too close to sweet

You are rabbit’s foot key chains and songs wrapped in glass

You’re shrink preserved feeling

You’re the hope in the face of relapse

So backward forward, in and out

Your words are in my ears your breath is in my mouth

I grit my teeth when I’m asleep because I cant dream of anything

So in the morning I watch you as you dress

You pull make up and lipstick off your shelf

You’re searching for something that I can’t see

But all I know is its not me

Now that I know,

I look past skylines of cities and grace

I look past mirrors and four-poster beds

I keep my fingernails short and the phone unplugged

Disconnected, you’ve taught me now, how I’ve got to be

Disconnected

But things are hard faces like plastic hoping to shatter

I sometimes want to be a part of the plastic and the noise

And the hard corners

I am not synthetic enough

(They are dancing but the way that they move is too fast, not real, not broken)

Idealism where all else is ice

Where we are lonely and dried up