Grief Written

I read a myth that says when people are thinking about you they appear in your dreams, And I'm afraid to sleep, Because your lips taste the same there, And so do my tears. I still choke out words like they've got a grip on my heart, And you still look at me the same way. Your hands feel real. And I dont know if you heard me, But last night I told you how I felt. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Please hide your thoughts away, Give me my dreams back.

"I love you" is a curse word. I only whisper it, afraid of being heard. Relishing the way it tastes on my lips like a child spitting out their first "damn."  I check to make sure no one hears me. I love you. "I love you" is a weapon. Used against me in my weakest times, a knife held at my throat. And your lips are warm at my neck, your words are sharp against it. And my heart pounds when it hears them, It senses the threat, When someone says "I love you" what they mean is "I am about to hurt you."  I love you. "I love you" is an excuse, Something we chalk up our rash and hurtful mistakes to saying it was in love. Out of love. It's an apology, a mistake. "I love you" is just a phrase people use when they don't know what else to say. For you it's always been a question, and my heart doesn't have the answer.

I'm in a metal bird flying across the sky, The sky is both above me and below me, Nothing is real anymore. Humans can make anything they want, Life and death. Can we make love though? Roll the windows down with me and drive through the canyon, Let the wind pull your hair, Sting your lips.  The wind won't love you and leave you, It'll always come back. And stinging lips and pulled hair don't hurt so much when they come back. I know a boy who sometimes closes his eyes when he drives alone on the freeway, But he still makes me wear my seatbelt in the car. And he doesn't know it but sometimes I drive really fast at night and think about just letting go of the wheel. I never do though, My grip is tighter than ever, I dont know how to let things go. I wish I didn't go sometimes, I don't know where I am. I'm spinning in circles, I'm a compass needle looking for north. And if only I could find a s

There are still so many poems I have for you, But I dont know how to write them anymore, I dont know you anymore, And we are taught to write what we know.