I pick at my lips to pick something to start peeling away the feeling of you from my skin,

Scrubbing the taste of you off of my tongue, the smell of you from my nose like coffee beans at the perfume counter

I close my eyes tight and rub, as if I can force the stars beneath my eyelids to stop masquerading as you

I wrap myself in blankets like I used to be wrapped in you, trapped in you, like my own rose tinted romance

I still feel you, lingering, like a kiss on a first date, pulling me close with broken promises and one last request for attention, for sympathy from me. For me.

Because what else would he need sympathy for, if not me?

I empty myself like a bottle of old red wine, bitter and forgotten. Pour myself into everyone except myself, because it’s easier to let someone other than me have the first sip. Let someone else judge the moment I touch their lips, the taste of me shocking yet fleeting.

They pack bricks into boxes to bog me down, push me off a bridge into the river.

It’s okay, we’ve been through this before, there is a system. If you don’t follow it, you don’t get through.

Thinking feels like sinking or thinking is sinking and while sinking I’m thinking if I’m doing it the right way, what they’re thinking of me while I sink.

Sand crumbles under my feet when I reach the floor.

If I could only create a path or retrace my steps, forget where I came from, run out of breath close my eyes to go to sleep

In the darkness I dream of nothing, a world that exists outside time and space. It’s nice here. I think I’ll stay.

The songs she had been known for were one-hit wonders, Remembered for a familiar chorus, an underrated tune. She always floated through the melodies, Used to being skipped over. Waiting for someone to listen past the first track, To stay past the intermission, To play her songs on repeat. But repeatedly, they fell short.

When he heard her for the first time, He closed his eyes and thought he might remember his life. Captivated by a sound that filled his soul, He wondered how he had even lived before. He roamed, searching for the sound that made his body tingle, Hoping to find the feeling again. He dreamed a dream of fullness and ecstasy regularly, And recently she became the featured act.

The first time he saw her, he closed his eyes, Tracing the outline of every note, memorizing every lyric. Before she even opened her mouth, he had already requested an encore, Asked her to sing acoustic. He flipped over every record and listened to every track, Praying the chorus wouldn’t repeat - wouldn’t signal the end. When the sound became quiet, he closed his eyes, Hoping it wasn’t a dream.

When he went to sleep next to her, he exhaled, Dreaming a dream of fullness and ecstasy. He opened his eyes and let a tear fall, Realizing his dream was no longer only a dream. He smiled and traced every melody of her body, Reciting every lyric to her song. She smiled, her tear meeting his, knowing she would always be at the top of his charts.

With her in his arms, he thought, he found his home.

I thought I heard the wedding bells, thought I’d heard the choir sing Didn’t know those sounds were from hell, begging for just a fling

You told me you wanted me then left me for dead, how should I believe I word that you said? Somehow I always end up alone in my bed

They mean what they said that old habits die screaming, I died screaming The texture of your words superglue chills to my spine, but I apologize then lie and say I’m fine

I would give you my wild, my bluest days, give you a child, never looking away. I watch you watch everyone but me, thinking of who could be to blame but me

Can never throw out the fear that those dreams are for kids, the daydreamer in me forced to hide her imagination in boxes with lids, this childlike love affair becoming something I’d reconsider for counterbids

I creep through the house that once was our love, burning the ground from my steps above I am reminded of the way my breath caught when I asked the questions I knew the answers for already, knowing I’d be burned in the end, hoping this film would not end the way it was going to - just pretend.

I step outside watching the house burn. When tolerate turns to hate, I reconvene in my brain to remember why I accepted toleration where in I deserved celebration.

I take inspiration from movies and books, stealing moments and secret looks. I will stay true to believe that my fairy tale does exist, deservedly so. That not everyone is just waiting to let me go. If they are - let the record show, all that will let me do is grow.

In the ashes, a spark remains lit. I think, what wit, for something so illicit.