ten.
i never really knew your name
i think that was the problem
[i think i could have loved you.
even though we both know I don't really believe that.]
_
nine.
you collect scars on your wrists
like i collect records
[the fact is they're both played out.]
and you're not writing anything
that will help you to remember
not to hate yourself so damn much
[i wish i could have saved you.]
_
eight.
if you were a color, you'd be grey
[i'm sick of all these shades of inbetweens.]
_
seven.
i used to know you better than i know myself
and now i'm forgetting the color of your hair
and the sound of your whispered-secret-voice
and you don't even recognize
the crash that signals me falling.
[i can't lean on something that's not there.]
_
six.
i miss the you
you were
before you became nothing but
vodka wrapped regrets
and smoke that tastes more stale with every dying breath
[you lived too much. too fast.]
and now you're dying on the inside
and you promise you'll fix other people's problems
with psychoanalytical phrases and inkblots
[but when are you going to fix yourself?]
_
five.
you've made "melodramatic" more than a dictionary term
and for every story you spill from slack lips
that can't string together words to make something
worth a meaning, i'm covering my ears
[i wish i couldn't hear.
or that i was broke enough to not buy into your lalalalies.]
_
four.
i'm sorry for being so sorry
it seems like lately those are the only words i have for you
[and i always have too many things to say.
which is making this so much worse.]
i should know you better by now
so then i wouldn't be so afraid of open-back-doors-invites
and basement-stair-promises
i'm still afraid of what you'll think
when you meet the real me
[i'm a mess. but i promise, i'm not a liar.]
_
three.
they usually reserve "best"
for something good
but you're all i have
and even though i say i don't want to grow up
you're wearing alcohol-soaked-calls and school-girl-drama thinthinthinner
you're ruining my ringtone and drowning my good intentions
[and the worst part is i still care way too much
and i never did learn to fly.]
_
two.
i'm sorry that i met you
i wish i could take it back
too bad time's nonrefundable
[if i could sell it back, i'd buy you a heart
and your own dreams so you could stop stealing mine.]
_
one.
you're technicolor dreams
when i can only see black and white
you're foreign phrases and sparklesoaked ideologies
and sometimes, you're the only person
i still believe
[and someday, you'll go where i can't follow
and all i'll have left is fistfuls of untruths
and too many regrets to hold in breaking fingers
but i swear to god, i'll miss you.]
_
zero.
i'm saving all the good words for you
[my heartbeat's the only song i can hear
but it plays for you.]














Comments
--
an antique arms and armor expert
--
I believe.
--
" ...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."
--
*TheWritersMeow
A birthday is just a day, you say.
But it's a special day.
It's the day you first changed the world.
<3
--
wishes bounce me weightless.
the infa-red scope of pointlessness.
CANNOT scrap this. This is almost just too TOO beautiful.
wait - what happened to eleven?
[and i found it somewhat freeing to write this. the words came a lot easier with less worries of making it polished and pretty. it was a nice change]
and i'd be honored if you used it. anytime.
and thanks, dear
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