Tag: heartbreak

Sympathy for the Seventh Sin

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Photo by Burak K

Hey, just wanted to see how you’re doing today.

The last time I called I hated you like a lion

Hates to kill its prey.

I’m not religious but every time someone mentions you, I sit there and pray

Hoping you have the means to move on without me there, every step of the way.

But I don’t know what it means to move on. I get finicky.

My pillow gasps and screams your name right back to me.

The strangers all around this place have branded me as “gutsy” –

If they don’t see my crippling heart, what else do they not see?

Your beaming smile was printed in my memory. Then cut out as a simple clipping.

I must’ve been a monster when I stabbed myself to start the snipping

In order to get every last piece of you away… Too bad I forgot the stitching.

All for nothing. The numbness didn’t last. The insides are still twitching.

Do you even understand what has been done?

How many times the water’s under the bridge

But you once again pull out the gun?

And with my own hand you push me out on the ridge…

Will you have what it takes to pull the trigger? Or will you stand there, evasive?

If offered my tied and bleeding tongue, would you know where to place it?

What a shame it is to fall for someone with a soul of tin,

To have this deadly sympathy for the seventh sin.

What an abject itch it is to live with you, without ever having you.

It was nice to talk but I must go. My empathy is due.

-JW

The Monsters You Love

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Photo by Nicolas Postiglioni

The first one will bury your mind’s worst graveyards,

He’ll dig to cement some sense in your broken parts

to make boulevards. Or counterparts.

Serving him proves your desire and the remarkable skill,

Yet they seem not to notice the sadness and the sleeping pills.

(From now on will call the suicide attempts

unconfirmed kills.)

The second one’s someone with a magnetic field,

He’s the one to attract, you’re the one to shield.

Although well aware he’s the one to cause trauma,

He’ll blame you for wasted love and for drama.

His presence will haunt you and swallow your pride

(because months back you wanted to be his bride).

The last one will stay, through harsh and through mellow,

She’ll change dark blue into canary yellow.

You won’t notice, but one day she’ll pack and she’ll run,

And your curses will feel like a midnight sun

To her disappearing silhouette,

Dead set, like the day we met.

***

My brain is a wasteland for your bitterness

And your bites, so vain, stink like helplessness.

Yet you manage to stain every fragment and pore.

Yes, your words turn me into another whore,

A slave for money, still so goddamn poor.

The loneliness unwraps, it’s hollow and soar.

Run to the door. Slowly, my dear, a little bit more.

When the breeze hits your face, the fanfares of escape will roar

Bullets will cover my sloop of war.

***

I haven’t yet met a monster so unlovable:

That sentence in it self is disprovable

Yet probable.

Ironical.

Be Still

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The last time I wrote you I loved you so blind,

you, of all people, not the rest of your kind…

Had my mind in your palm and your teeth in my chest,

god, I was sure that you’re worse than the rest.

A substance I’ve tasted for the very first time.

And for what? So for the rest of my life I can no longer pretend

that I’m fine?

you’re toxic and drinking your poison is painful

But day in and day out you say — I should be grateful

Don’t need the next cigarette, daydream or drink

But it’s numbing my pain so I don’t have to think

About future, or money or castles of gold,

F*ck, I swear — this is how you’re last lover was sold

A fantasy of certainty and safety.

Where is she?

…

Where am I?

Or to quote Placebo –

where is my mind?

The feeling of losing someone so dear is way better

than being lost and only tasting the bitter

Intoxicating poison you raise in my throat…

Let me choke, oh, please, just let me choke.

And let me out of the choke-hold so frozen and evil,

your hands are no longer the good place, their grip so tight

it’s barely legal.

Lethal.

You’re stare reminds of a dusty poison ivy leaf,

The green eyes to kill for — they will kill me in my sleep.

…

Halsey serenaded some crystal green irises in her latest song,

And don’t understand me wrong,

I would still write a ballad about yours,

Filled with late night angst

and swear words…

It would still be yours, imperfect and fragile, and crazy,

Just like the author, irrelevant, hazy,

Teachable, but a slow learner and a quick burner,

The artsy and weird kind, you know, not a head-turner.

She will, however, stay close to your righteous and distant self,

Not because she’s courageous or looking for help.

There’s no help to be found while you bury her fading will,

and yet, she still see’s the emerald eyes and goes –

Be still, my beating hard, be still.

– JW