undying-whispers

[undying-whispers]

Nuh uh ☝️

Hey slut ✋

I know you.

[undying-whispers]

Update: it wasn’t, I’m stupid.

It isn’t yet, but maybe someday it will be love

[undying-whispers]

Today, I learned why animals bite,

And why man invented Language.

[undying-whispers]

It isn’t yet, but maybe someday it will be love

[undying-whispers]

“I am learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things not meant for me.”

— Unknown

[undying-whispers]

I think before I can love again I need to allow myself time and space to properly hate

[undying-whispers]

Bitter

When I was young, I always had a sweet tooth, and I couldn’t stand coffee.

Everyone said I’d grow out of it, grow into coffee, but I couldn’t stand the bitter taste.

When I grew up, I did grow into coffee, so long as it was sweet like kisses or late night conversations or promises.

But now, I can’t taste the sugar.

All I taste is bitter, earthy, sour coffee,

And I can’t shake the taste in the back of my mouth, like a clot of decomposing memories.

I thought I was supposed to grow into it,

I was supposed to grow up.

Not grow out of it.

I thought it would be fine with sugar.

I guess at the end of the day, I’m still that stupid little kid.

And at the end of the day, no amount of sugar can change that, at the end of the day,

It’s coffee in my cup.

[undying-whispers]

Town to the North

Your ghost walks in on a breeze from a town to the North.

It sinks its fingers into my throat.

It stares me in the eye with that vague sense of burning your eyes always held,

And it says to me,

“You will never be more to someone than you were to me.

You will never love again like you loved me.

You will never erase the spot where I scorched my name into your heart.”

As it says that, I look down and I realize its hand isn’t at my throat.

It’s in my chest, strong digits digging into the muscle.

Right over the burn scar of your name, just like it said.

Some part of this town to the North will always smell like you starting to slip away from me.

No, slip makes it sound accidental, or a fault of time.

You walked away.

And because of that, some part of me will always believe when your ghost says that

I will never be more to someone than the nothing I was to you.

That I will never love someone with everything like I loved you.

That I will never erase the spot where you scorched your name into my heart.

[undying-whispers]

“I”, “Love”, “You”

I wish I knew what people meant when they say “I love you”.

To love is to accept and hold dear,

But “I” and “you” can complicate things.

I know sometimes, when they say “I love you”, they don’t mean the “I”:

Simply, “love you”, empty comfort like a blindfold, sometimes as much for “I” as it is for “you”.

Sometimes, when they say “I love you”, they don’t mean the “you”:

Simply, “I love”, indiscriminate romanticism, self inflicted delusion, mostly for the sake of “I”.

Sometimes, when they say “I love you”, they don’t mean the “Love”,

Simply “I, you”, denoting something between “I” and “you”, where all “I” knows is that “you” is there with “I”, and perhaps it is supposed to be, but it isn’t love.

I suppose, it’s not that I wish I knew what people mean when they say “I love you”,

But when they mean each word that they say.

[undying-whispers]

Aftertaste

I hate when I hear Black Hole Sun,

And it sounds like you.

And it leaves a sour taste in the back of my mouth,

It tastes like you.

But “you” doesn’t taste like coffee flavored kisses,

Or an energy drink spilled on the car ride back to school.

Now, “you” tastes like blood,

Curdled and rotting.

Decaying, but never scabbing.

And maybe if it did, I would choke on the clot,

But at least I wouldn’t have the taste of you loitering in my mouth.