tw : mentions of bl00d , brief desc of 1njuries 1 You find me crumpled up within myself and discarded against the ivory tiles. I am carrion, or I want to feel like one, you mistake me first for the b0nes until you see my flesh. You ask me why I always do this, why it has to be me, and the lights are too white, too artificial, too bright—it makes my eyes shine red. You ask me again. Why you? I hang my head, I don’t want to say it, the metal is melting into the drain and the birds sing their caged song among the rain. Is that freedom they dread? Is that the sun they sing to? Is it still true? You never understood the mouth in my eyes and the beating heart in my fingers and I don’t think you will speak to them again. The birds could be singing to you alone, I’m sure they know you’re here even though they don’t know your name—a false one will condone, for a quiet song. 2 Let’s say this is real. You pick me up off the bathroom floor and hand me a bar of soap. You take my hand and you turn off the water. You leave, with me, and we speak. Let’s say that this is fake. You fall down and carpet will never be blue again. You manage one breath, to tell me to call the doctor, that’s what they’re for. I pick up the phone. Birds sing. 3 I swore I knew you before, before all of this. I knew your favorite color and I knew you in the dark. I knew you, I knew you too well. The light was yellow and the trees were green and your eyes were green and I didn’t notice we were already dying. I took you, sheltered you, nestled you in a place I thought we’d be safe. Can I tell you, now? Will I ever? 4 It’s all for you, it’s always been for you. The words that don’t stay, the things that will never be made. It’s never for me, there’s nothing left of it, just a smiling and unrelenting pit that forever screams your name. Pick up the phone, I tell it. Please, pick up. 5 You’re telling me there’s a reason for people who do these sort of things, the things we see on the news. My feelings feel d3ad but I say, there’s no way that they believe it, and you say that’s not up for conversation. But could people truly be their own ravines? And are they falling because someone else felled them? When they fell, did they not feel it at first? Did they know the crunch of their b0nes and the shattered cage of their ribs, if the ground embraced them, first? 6 We’re lying on the tiles made of broken bone and you’re cleaning me off the floor. I lie there, I don’t move, the tiles are pink, we always wanted to paint them, anyway. You leave and I leave and everything leaves and the birds are still crying out to the empty sky, they’re trying to tell me something. Look out the window. Take a chance. Throw it all away. 7 The truth is, I’ve never known you. You’re a contradiction and words that fly out your mouth I let hover in the sacred silence. The truth is, your eyes are my light but I’ve never seen the sun, I’ve forgotten what it looks like. The truth is, it’s too dark, in here, alone, I don’t know why I still try. No one will ever, truly, know you and I, know we existed and coexisted. They may read our movements, say we never touched and we never held each other. They can’t study the abyss stretching in between us, forming inside of me. They can’t hear the words we exchanged with one glance. They’re never going to know why and how we ended up here. So I won’t act like I know, either. I’ll pick myself up off the floor, I’ll let the water rain over me and declare myself clean, and I’ll sit, here, inside the white room, and think it over, I’ll look through the veil of the windows and somehow I'll carry on. Somewhere, there is the moon, and that light may be enough, somewhere in this room is sanctity, somehow I’ll find it, and then my flesh won’t be hated, and then I’ll enjoy the fall, I’ll find something that I will later know the name of, when everything falls silent. // AGH omg i wrote this poem after school and i'm shook. i've never been in a romantic relationship and i can't even explain this so. also I AM OKAY this poem is NOT even about me even relatively !! this poem was based on the general idea of a situationship , the two of the "characters" in the poem having to be the "caretaker" and switch roles to "help" each other , but really it's a trauma cycle bc both of them are sinking and just holding on to each other as they go down w the ship. but everything is up to ur own interpretation too ^^ this was also inspired by richard silken's poem "you are jeff" (just read the whole collection it's so good). this is literal grass though so idk ! read that poem instead of mine (or whatever you can call this mess of mixed metaphors and run-on sentences um)! yeah thanks <3 song is no surprises by radiohead <//3
