i don't want
your tobacco charred lungs
or your bloodshot eyes;
i don't want
the poison in your bloodstream
or the fractured pieces of your mind.
when they asked me if
you'd pushed my heart over the edge
i smiled wordlessly,
afraid to admit that i wasn't ready
for the descent into your awaiting arms.
so tell me why
i still want to listen to the
drum roll of your heart
harmonising with your favourite song
at three am?
tell me why
i now want to drown in the oceans of your eyes
as they stare at me from across the room
rather than swimming away from your gaze?
tell me why
it's only now that you've slipped from my grasp
that i feel like i'm finally ready to unlock
my rib-cage and let you steal the heart
that lies behind.
maybe i liked the novelty of having someone
more than i liked the idea of having you,
because i miss the places your body has been
but i don't miss what lies beneath the surface of your skin.
YOU ARE READING
Small Talk
Poetry❝ we're just fumbling through the grey, trying to find a heart that's not walking away. ❞ [ a collection of drabbles, musings and poetry: sometimes i like to pretend that i can write poetry when there's things i want to get off my chest ]
