womanthatrolls
Bluelighter
I dont know anything
like the back of my hand anymore
not like i used to know
the sound of your voice
as it curled around my ears
or when i knew
that my heart needed to prepare
for ensuing danger
i kinda have one road
in this city
memorized
from the first swerve
to the last
(but it is predictable
in all the right ways
like the girl
i used to be)
and i also know the sound i make
right before i sit back
and relish in all of your old truths
but even those things
-on a rainy night
or exceptionally bad day-
have lost a bit of their sure-firedness
and become ghosts of what they sometimes are
shadows
distant smells
childhood memories
what-have-you
because even things i had come to know
-like how my mother cries when she passes the place her mother died
or how my little brother sings himself to sleep when he is sad-
have been traded in
pawned off
on my uncertain truths
that come straight along with the fact
that i am alone
with a bone shattering
chilling
insanely crazy reality
that i have been foggy-glass
trying to escape
because i can sit in my mothers pick up truck
and listen to the blues
and hear what my future was going to sound like
and i can cry for hours
on the highway home
hoping to god
that someone sees me
before i let go of the wheel
and i can bite my lip so hard it bleeds
while tasting my saliva and blood
as they mix
and wish to everything i have inside of me
for the ability
to erase
and scrap
everything
from memories
to moments
to ideas
and falsehoods
into the section or portion of my life
titled
"dead"
because if i could do that
-if i could just put you nicely
into a trunk
and label you junk
please believe me
when i say
that i would
because even the nice memories
are interfering
with my life
and there is nothing about me
that can continue
writing
good or bad or profound poetry
about any of it anymore
because what we would have done
would have been beautiful
but what we did do
was just break my heart
and wrapped it up tight
with some twine
and what we did do
was empty me out
only to fill me up
with insane expectations
of what love should be
when really
truly
honestly
you and i
never knew
like the back of my hand anymore
not like i used to know
the sound of your voice
as it curled around my ears
or when i knew
that my heart needed to prepare
for ensuing danger
i kinda have one road
in this city
memorized
from the first swerve
to the last
(but it is predictable
in all the right ways
like the girl
i used to be)
and i also know the sound i make
right before i sit back
and relish in all of your old truths
but even those things
-on a rainy night
or exceptionally bad day-
have lost a bit of their sure-firedness
and become ghosts of what they sometimes are
shadows
distant smells
childhood memories
what-have-you
because even things i had come to know
-like how my mother cries when she passes the place her mother died
or how my little brother sings himself to sleep when he is sad-
have been traded in
pawned off
on my uncertain truths
that come straight along with the fact
that i am alone
with a bone shattering
chilling
insanely crazy reality
that i have been foggy-glass
trying to escape
because i can sit in my mothers pick up truck
and listen to the blues
and hear what my future was going to sound like
and i can cry for hours
on the highway home
hoping to god
that someone sees me
before i let go of the wheel
and i can bite my lip so hard it bleeds
while tasting my saliva and blood
as they mix
and wish to everything i have inside of me
for the ability
to erase
and scrap
everything
from memories
to moments
to ideas
and falsehoods
into the section or portion of my life
titled
"dead"
because if i could do that
-if i could just put you nicely
into a trunk
and label you junk
please believe me
when i say
that i would
because even the nice memories
are interfering
with my life
and there is nothing about me
that can continue
writing
good or bad or profound poetry
about any of it anymore
because what we would have done
would have been beautiful
but what we did do
was just break my heart
and wrapped it up tight
with some twine
and what we did do
was empty me out
only to fill me up
with insane expectations
of what love should be
when really
truly
honestly
you and i
never knew
