Nights like this are
The same nights that will kill me.
Nights when translucent ghosts put their arms
Around my waist and take me
Dancing around your bedroom;
Nights when sad songs pour
Out of spidery cracks in the walls
And fill my heart with their sopping sweet nostalgia;
Nights when my body freezes,
An amassment of stone wrapped in stiff sheets,
And tumultous tears close my throat.
You told me, you told me
"I can’t just forget it
Like you can.”
What you don’t know is
Like a soldier cut open
By the knife she obliged herself,
I am holding my insides
Inside, cramming any hints of you back
Deep into my stomach,
Wrapping them around my spine,
A sprial staircase of sorrow and sweet intentions,
Where no one will see
Exactly how I am dying inside
I do not escape this.
I can not cast aside my aching breast,
My decayed, ashen heart
Like so many others before.
I can only carry my sorrow with me,
A red thread around my finger.
I carry it like a sparrow on my shoulder,
Angrily pecking my ear so often
Just to make sure I still remember
What happened to us.
It’s nights like these that I regret.
I regret missing you, and kissing you,
and tasting you, and loving you.
I regret the time we first made love,
Entwining our bodies in each other
A bond of blood and sweat and whispered desires.
At night, when I lie awake
Aware of the empty space in bed
In every moment of consciousness,
I despise loathe hate grieve myself
For having given you love
The way nobody ever could.
I kill myself the way I killed you,
Taking your heart,
Delicate with disuse,
And tossing it out with the others.
Watching you break
Like the slivered backs of infant birds
Left nest too soon,
Like thunder collapsing inwards,
Rattlings cupboards and windows
Like the trembling of your shoulders.
I regret it all on nights like this,
Every blissful painful glorious horrid second,
Because every second led to these nights
When all of me screams
Yet nothing hurts.