I traced the outline of your face on a piece of paper.
It didn't turn out the way I'd hoped,
so I took my ink-stained fingers and
spelled out your name in big smeared letters across my arm.
But you are my secret, like ink to a dust covered book.
Screaming at me like the angry cobwebs in the corners.
A history so deep it hurts to look.
But the truth, ugly, emerges at last,
like the stories you whispered into my ear that cold December night.
And I, reflected them onto the moon.
Our pale blue faces glowing against the blackened sky.
And soon, like my beauty, you disappeared into the ocean,
leaving hushed whispers with the seashells behind.
And I, morphed into the many grains of sand,
becoming just another weary face in the crowd.
Down to a whisper in a daydream.
And have learned to disgrace myself so many times over.
I have nothing. For you have my heart now, and everything in me.
You are mine, and I am yours.
Time rules us, though.
For some it remains untouched,
edges eroded, center weakened.
But me, I am the secondhand on the clock,
aching like a pulse behind a bruise.
Always changing, always moving forward.
But I just can't accept the disappointment of you not
sharing loving glances at me over our midnight tea,
or buttoning up the back of my dress.
Fear is clamping down on me like a vise,
and I feel like I might shatter into a million pieces right here and now.
I want to sit down and put my head between my knees,
but I'm worried that if I move, or close my eyes, or do anything,
I'll just start to unravel.
Head coming away from my neck,
coming away from my shoulder,
all of me floating away into nothing.
And I don't want to see the lines around my eyes
or the fading of my hair.
I don't want to hear the mumbled curses from our lips,
or the whisperings in my own head.
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
scuttling across the floor of silent seas.
I want to sleep now, and cut my heart out,
and draw a curtain over my barren memories.
Because you, are my greatest disaster.