29th of june

to think that your existence in my head and our only interactions are limited to a simple happy birthday yearly, when we spent almost every day of the week together, suffering through the same amount of schoolwork and being part of the same stupid challenges we set out for each other and us as a whole, is disheartening for i used to know you and you knew me. we spent so many days in front of your residence building playing stupid games kids used to play because i was not allowed to have a phone and you probably weren’t either and i still remember the everlasting cigarette smell in your kitchen and your apartment layout and the memory that your half bald dad used to help you with your math homework and how you treated your mom even though she used to do your arts class’ homework and how i wished i could ask my mom to do it too, but i knew she wouldn’t and how i envied you for the fact that i could never surpass you academically, no, never, you always being the one who came up with new methods to solve a problem and i still remember how insecure i was because you had other friends beside me, friends who lied to you and you didn’t believe me when i said they did, but i think deep down you knew, you knew, you knew they were lying and maybe you just didn’t want to only have me as a friend. i still remember school events and going to pizza before and after the start and end of every school year and how i told you i don’t like blondes but i will always love you. i still remember all these things and every year on your birthday i don’t know what to do with them, what do i do with the ghost of you and all the things we used to do and your favorite artists and your handwriting and the birthday card you gave me when we were 13 and now lays stacked, compressed and pressed among other birthday cards? what do i do with all of these things? where do i put them?

while you were sleeping

in a field full of roses

my lipstick still bleeds

i don't need any closure

i just need you to be here

and i'll wait years for you

like a lonely cat on my doorstep

i'll wait for the sky to turn blue

just so i can be with you again

what i never understood about love is that you don’t always have to healed by someone else. love is everywhere. there’s love in the pretty flowers you find at the end of a road, in the tired-but-im-still-here cat that drags her feet along the cold, hard concrete so you could pet her. there’s love even in the empty spaces between the books, in a busy library, or in the woman’s eyes who scanned your food, at the convenience store. love is absolutely everywhere. you don’t need another person to heal you; you can do that yourself. find good books to read and actually read them, smile at the old ladies in front of your parking lot, pick up flowers for yourself, go for long walks and stare at the moon. fall in love with living again.

pretty boy

pile of corpses on my bedroom floor oh, to be the murderer they all adore they see my face, my hair, my body, yet no one sees the real me, all bloody, they all see a perfect figure, some statue and i can’t really argue. maybe this is all that i will ever be, just another asshole, who’ll never be free.

“won’t you go to someone else’s dreams?

won’t you go to someone else’s head?

haven’t you taken enough from me?

won’t you torture someone else’s sleep?”

if you get this, i’m so sorry.

him

i stare at him, as his long fingers swirl between the strings. the bleached tips of his hair, now tied in a bun, remind me of a honey-ish chocolate. (do you really smell like nuit de l'homme?). he has a soft expression on his face and his nose is a large, grecian one. he has full lips (which he moves so gracefully), black, round eyes and a delicately rounded jaw. was he always this beautiful? was his voice always this gentle and caring? he sings a song about a broken love, saying 'he doen't need anybody else', (oh how i wish i were one of your friends) and the sudden flash of a smile makes me think he's having a good time, just like he should be. the electric guitar screams, but in a peaceful way, you know? it screams in ways he couldn't. he moves in closer to the mic and then backs away, as if it would leave if he got too close. the song gets sadder as it progresses and he admits it. he does need somebody else. it's too lonely to stumble back in bed, all by yourself, you know?

i wish we weren’t universes apart.

i wish i could hug you.