so we’re laying on a bed of tainted bones again tonight, a flattened siren of juice we only seize to voice differences. so we’re prying eyes open with promises we’ve sandwiched into seasoned riddles, a combination trying to open too many memories to feel okay. so we’re tasting the blood of tongues we speak louder than ourselves, running against the paint we hold in our fingers, diving along the spines of those we’ve crippled to gain a chapter in the mystery of wilting among the trees. There are words I hear only when you touch my skin with your lips - more I love you’s pressed into the nostalgia unzipping the night, I miss you’s toasting the air growing out of your exit. I know I’m always hard to love, and harder to wake up next to. I know I keep silence tighter than your name. And though you lost your smile when you took my hand, I’m sorry I loved you more than I could promise.