Cephlapod

I wish for the days when my thighs stop touching, when I can leave red trails on your freckled back and when your eskimo kisses are finally mine again. I don't care if opposites attract. I want us to be identical so we can curl perfectly into each other. Opposites can't smoothly conjoin and, love, I want us to beautifully meld into one. Just one more time, please. I can't look at myself in a mirror but when I look at you, I've never felt prettier. It's knowing that once upon a time, I was by your side. The apple white skin underneath your arm, the way your tongue caresses the roof of your mouth when you enunciate your L's;

Can you see the mortar in our veins? It's getting harder to move; Our lips seem incapable of curling upwards. The only thing that curls these days are our fingers and toes when matches leave little hot white craters in our skin. Please don't fret, love. These holes are nothing to concern yourself with. We were born with caverns in our chest, after all. Put your ear to our ribcage and listen close to hear the echoes of the past. That's all we are, you know. Echoes. A lingering trace. I'm sorry that we're not real. Oh, dearest. There is no saving us. There is no us.

I won't grieve for you. You told me once about how grief was ugly, dirty, impure. Grief was meant for birds in the street with broken wings and splayed feathers. The only time you were broken was when you wandered the streets, when you blinked, when you inhaled and exhaled, when your heart pumped mortar through your veins. Those last few moments, I've never seen you look so whole. Every minute I spent with you, I questioned if you truly existed. I couldn't grasp how someone so perfect could see themselves as illusory. I know now that in your mind, you didn't exist. To you, everything was a continous dream and you were finally going to awak

People are telling me that you're going around, using that supposedlybeautiful four-lettered word when you describe us. (My four lettered vocabulary is limited to lessbeautiful things because I love how harsh it sounds when it slips out of my mouth) People keep mentioning how we are 'One' and I don't understand. It's drilled into our heads that 1+1 always equals 2. I can't take them seriously when their basic math is wrong. It's almost insulting that we are not seen as separate entities or even wholes. I've spent my days thinking about it and it's starting to make sense though; I've felt broken and missing for years now so I suppose I can n

It's no longer my hands that try to claw off my skin in desperate attempts to once again be clean. It's your words. You're using them to choke me, suffocate me and cover my reflection in filth. It's not my image that I am obsessed with though; so I don't mind that I can't bring myself to look in a mirror anymore. I much rather spend my days gazing at your chipped tooth, at the freckle on your lip and the little scar on your thumb. You can do whatever you want to me just pleaseohplease never leave my sight. It scares me that I can't live without you. Deep down, I know that you already see me as dead and useless. But I needwant to

Let's reverse butterflies into caterpillars, bury the guilt under whispers of a smile. I can't stand that they are closer to you than I. My momentsdaysmemories are filled with calorie counting and what passes by my lips. If I lay in a starlit field and let the animals pick my bones clean, will you love me once more; it was you who said swan white bones were beautiful. How much more before I am light enough to float away with you.

I use clichés at four in the morning And truth be told, I don't miss you one little bit We've been deteriorating since the day We met (Or maybe it was just me) I've turned into dust and have blown away on Your whisper And as your mouth formed sweet nothings I realized That I had grown deaf They knew what they meant When they said Silence is golden

Feel free to wrap your fingers around my ankle And pull me under. Truth be told, I'm growing tired of T r e a d i n g water. The night sky looks fake when stars are being replaced by satellites. I'd like to believe that things Would seem more real if I let Myself submerge with you. You're a mermaid and it's Not a matter of me drowning for I drowned the moment you looked Straight into me. Isn't it funny that I've never breathed so Easily even when my lungs are being Flooded