I’ve been lonely lately,
in a steady state of decay, feeling
like I’m not really living, just
My body is shipwrecked,
too much water in my lungs, too many cracks
in my bones, yet I’ve always loved
the ocean, the salt water always smells
like memories and I’m trying my hardest
to remember every detail of you, and I’ve
always loved the sound of your voice, I’d have you on
repeat all day like a song I’d never grow tired
of but I guess you couldn’t say the same about me.
My heart was paper and you were playing
with matches a little too close for comfort, but
I craved your company anyways like you
were air and I couldn’t breathe,
but I guess that pushed you away.
It was like I was trying to find the bruise
in a piece of fruit, pressing so hard
I end up creating it.
So I guess I’m making myself rot.
It’s my own fault really, craving
touch yet flinching every time
you’re close enough.
You used to tell me I was sculpted
by a god you didn’t believe in,
and it made me feel fragile – it’s funny
how precarious we all live,
our bones holding us together yet they
still seem to break –
and I’ve been spending a lot of time
at museums lately, trying to make
myself learn that I am still a masterpiece
even when the lights are off and
the room empty and I’m still trying
to learn how to love
because love’s an art form
and I’m terrible at art.