Leaving doors open

I don’t know how to dig a tunnel from where we are now to back then
I don’t know how to make sorry mean what I actually want it to mean.
I don’t know how to make you stop haunting my dreams……

I’ve never been good at reading erratic compass needles,
I’ve always thought that every woman in my life was there to guide me home
Searching for a reason to be carved inside my bones
trying to find a gap in-between the conversation my heart has with my brain on a daily basis

You’ve succeeded in playing welcomed intruder
at a time I needed you most
You cost more than I budgeted for
Bending time along with the strings to my hearts orchestra

You’re an orchid flower standing in an awkward pose
against your posture and own desire
Yet, all these words are just ghosts of a haunted head,
All the thoughts that I’ve wanted dead

You can forget so well, you’re a professional repressionist
Good at pushing thoughts aside
Especially anything that interferes with pride
Kill yourself with lies and wash it down with a shot of cyanide

Miss plastic personality with a paper pulse
When did words become vaporous because they keep escaping us
You can take a day out of the week to display faith and over inflated trust
yet still……all the words keep escaping us

All I have now are epitaphs of an old relationship written in the form of insincere text messages
It would be no different if it was set in stone and cement
And this poem is a loners lament

sang out by someone who is prone to regret

You wont leave my head alone like the captain of an abandoned ghost ship
Cause I’ve tried to place ink to your pulse to make it ring again
Though I’ve never been one to trust my own penmanship
I pushed the line too far

I disconnected the pulse from what we had,
ink spilling out of a cut wrist
Bringing a permanent pause to what we were
Separating us from a life we once had

I don’t need you to guide me home
I have the stars for that
But I can see your tears in them
When they dry and I forget, I’ll know that I’m finally there.


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