You can’t love someone enough.
You can’t love someone into sobriety.
You can’t love someone out of their pain.
And you certainly can not love someone out of killing themselves.
If it were possible this world would be a very different place.
The world would be filled joyous mothers as opposed to grieving ones and the rest of us would have our loved one by our side.
There is not enough love to save someone, you have got to remember that.
You can not martyr yourself attempting to save someone else, although you tried.
You didn’t make it out unscathed.
You branded this person on your heart.
Your soul will never be the same.
So much so.
I’m broken in 12 different ways.
A million pieces of you.
You used to tell me,
“I won’t live to see 40.”
I laughed because I didn’t want it to be true.
I thought we would walk together into
our 60’s, our 80’s.
The memories of drunken nights
And wishing to die would fade into our past.
We were punk rock kids.
Misfits and the downtrodden.
We were too broken for this world and too crazy together.
That’s what happens to unrecognized lovers.
Black as night, our pain becomes our number.
Yours was called and I wanted mine sooner.
I don’t want to live in a world without you.
I mourned you once.
Mourned you two times.
I will mourn you everyday for the rest of my life.
It was cold out but the Sailor Jerry in my stomach kept me warm, my head was light as I felt tingling spread through me. I held onto your arm. The train passing by graffitied walls and the back of dark city buildings. The car was mostly empty and I wanted you right there. We had left the gas station bathroom to seek a better place to fuck but couldn’t find anywhere. So we sat on the train, the tension almost unbearable. I looked at your lips, your drunken smile was irresistible and I imagined your body all over mine. There was a sensation pulsing between my legs and I felt moisture run over the edge of my panties. I could see your rock hard cock through your pants.
There was barely a block between the train station and my home. We stopped every few feet to kiss each other. Hands all over. I remember you grabbing my face to bring me up toward you. We stumbled in through the front door. Clothes were thrown about the living room and you lifted me up to the kitchen counter. Your thick fingers slipped inside my pussy and your mouth moved over my neck. I thought I never wanted it to stop and I told you to take me to my bed. You threw me down, pushed my legs apart and then pulled me to the edge. “Fuck me.” I looked up at and grabbed your hips to guide you into me. Your hands were tangled in my hair as you pressed against me over and over again. Skin to skin. I held onto your biceps. You turned me over and around. My ass bounced against your body and I wondered if you liked that. You kissed my back and called me beautiful. Your hands grasped my breasts as we pushed between each other. You fucked me hard, so hard and your cock fit perfectly inside of me. Tight and all the way through. Time passed by and I wondered if I was even still alive. I was no longer myself. I was a being unrecognizable. You looked me right in the eyes and moaned on how good it felt to be inside of me. I begged you to fuck me harder and faster. I screamed and wrapped my arms around you. Tears ran down my cheeks. You asked if I was okay and I told you “please don’t stop.”
Hours passed or perhaps an entire lifetime. The light from the street lamp peeked through the space in the blinds. The universe our only witness. I pushed you harder and said “Come inside me.” I could feel you throbbing as your warm fluid filled me. We collapsed around each other. Our arteries pulsated on various spots within our bodies and I could not feel the difference between our flesh. I was you and we were something no one else could ever be.
I think about these memories. I wonder if any man could ever fuck me the same. Fuck me until I forget. Fuck me until the skin peels off my back. I wonder at the intensity and how we could not keep ourselves off each other. And I remember at the end how you wouldn’t let me touch you. How you grabbed my hands and threw them off your chest as I begged you to still love me. To not leave me alone. I wanted it again and again. Masochistic is what they called me. I think I am still looking for that in other people. Nice guys don’t have it in them and perhaps neither do I.
I considered calling you
I thought about all of the things you could say to me
To make me feel guilty enough
Into loving you again
I sat on a couch with another
All of the windows peering
Between him and I
I wanted to reach for your hand
But thought better of it
Remembered what you said about affection
I miss how you would hold my face
And smile so sweet and slyly
I recalled that feeling
Outloud and along the thorns
I bleed for you
I look for the passion that rolls inside
Those substance induced
Of you fucking me over and over again
Until tears ran down my thighs
The wetness of your cheeks
A handful of hair
I can not seem to find this in anyone
Drunk strangers with their hands all over
They touch the small of my back
And I get glimpses
Of all the terrible things they would do to me
Flags waving through the icy crystals around the temple
Lights glitter among the horizon
I don’t know what they want
Or why you still call for me
Why the rains
Keep on pouring
I turn off my phone
I go on running
I am still in love with you.
Even when I hate you and I know we are no good for each other.
I go only short amounts of time before you pass through my thoughts again.
My heart breaks every time I read your words.
I want to write back.
I would send you a thousand lines of the love I have for you… but I know your time is fleeting.
And I spend countless days in recovery.
I want to see you and hold your hand.
I want to walk in the rain and shoot shotguns at the night sky wearing nothing but the bad attitude that clings to people like me and you.
But I know I can not have my heart broken again and I can’t help but think you may be my broken heart.
I have you always.
Pulsating in the cavern of my chest.
I have felt you a thousand years and back.
Do you feel me too?
I have always wondered.
Am I a play thing, a fantasy, a destiny?
I cry out at night.
I wake up and you are still not beside me.
My heart lingers of that place where maybe you once love me.
I walk away from you, a trail of crumbs to my heart.
It’s always you
Coming back in without permission
Invading my mind
You try to fuck me like the old days
And tell me i am overreacting
I watch you turn away
This time her name is rachel
But i see her as a mirror
A compact i used to own
And i break her
In that porcelain bowl over and over
Then steal her and her money
And were trapped in cars
Where i still can’t find mine
Shitting bags of vegetables
And ripping my skin off
Raw pieces i can not hide
I could talk about how on this day two years ago you broke me. How a piece of me was cut out, burned and brushed away.
I could recollect on leaning on that raw wooden post, a cigarette in hand but I won’t.
I will not talk about how you left me at my most vulnerable moment. Or how I yearned for any morsel of your affection to be told, “I never loved you.”
Seven years and a thousand lifetimes passed as you lived with the one you did not love.
Still, we will not remember such things.
Even on tonight when I sung along to the music that defined us, you and I. How we ran on punk rock, drunken nights, and playing lovebirds in the desert. The music and the wind runs through it.
This dead salty memory.
No, today I will recall how these things did not and could not defeat me.
How the darkness of one defining moment could not stop the sun’s rising.
Two years and I run from you like the horse in that field. The grass below my feet and the future a bold blue sky.
And even on tonight when I vow not to speak of you, I can not help but miss your presence. In the dark desert sands the music plays on.