words deployed during the hardest of times, when butterflies and tongue ties wouldn’t allow me to let you know how I feel… they don’t even bother to last long enough to form a sentence.
You poured your heart out to me on a pillow and then we started fucking,
I swiftly slid it under me,
Because I’d rather have it draped in bodily fluids than the smell of your broken heart.
And although they don’t know the depths of my soul
Parts of them wonder about me when they’re alone
Lip locking with my chakras
Because their “hellos” don’t sound like echoes
There’s more behind it
It’s not emptiness built on nothings.
And although I may not want anything to do with the person
Parts of me remain
Where we last met
Holding parts of what’s left
Because I know they’ll return
No one wants to leave remains of themselves
At places that don’t feel like home