seethrough.

i woke up & realised
he stole my colour
the very hue
from my irises

the sun marched though my window
keeping both its rays
&the rain in meticulous order
my pillows had turned to
a solid-esque air
&i was smaller &younger
&now better off

[because santa carla is worlds away]

his mouth danced more than his
narrow hips
&feathered feet
&i couldn't stare behind him
in a coyly indifferent fashion

[the way i often do]

our skin whispered beside one another
embracing liquids
whie be breathed smoke into my hair
much so that i thought
i would soon disappear

the.art.of.letting

with your permission
i am going to hide.

from you.

& your chemical eyes.
you once laughed & noticed the matching hues.
[not at all true]
now you have nothing off which to reflect the colour.

because i am making you disappear.
& i can step outside the house
maybe even without prison wall sunglasses
keeping out any words which would subsequently
spell out
your name.

but.
with every sacrificial cigarette
the burning nubs scream out for you.
& i can't seem to stop coughing until the smoke clears entirely.

& i'm left with a brand new mirror.
smudging white fingertips across my paling lips.
am i dying already?
was my life really only worth
violence.
false longing.
the occasional fuck.
addiction.
your worth as well.

which consists of every lie you've ever breathed.
& whispered your love outside of a broken home which shelters a broken girl with a broken mouth
[what would you have said if she could have heard?]

you would have told me a hug.
i would have driven away.
knowing that your cobalt blue
was one step away from being gone.

'i will be inside the one who holds you.
...& then i won't be"

Credits: DeviantArt for Photography & Francesca Lia Block for Quotation [from Wasteland].