The sun is slow today,
Lazily perched on the neighbour’s window,
Stealing glances into the worn white wood.
Their peaked lips carefully carve a trench on the marble pillow -
Parted only for god’s mercy.
My heart twists as drool spills over their porcelain teeth,
Threatening to immortalise their lip trenches.
A knife grazes my ribs, the delicious steel snarls
Rousing them.
Giggling lashes uttering childish secrets
Threaten to fall, leaving behind a piece of them
With me,
And the marble pillow.
They think nobody sees them -
Them and their teary mirror lectures and uneven nail beds;
Them and their butterfly birthmark at the nape of their neck -
But I do.
I’m stuck watching the same person for the rest of time.
I’m stuck embracing the lazy sun every time the birds chirp and pillow turns to marble.
I’m stuck hearing ragged sobs crying unloveable (but hey, at least they listen to SZA at the same time, so it’s not too bad).
They’re hard to love.
But there must be a reason they picked me.
To watch them and their peaked lips,
To watch their fingernails digging into their skin, searching for heavenly revenge and hellish forgiveness,
To watch them tap away incessantly at the screen, desperately searching for a single 'I forgive you'.
To watch them think, while writing heart-twisting, rib-grazing words that hurt me more.
But they’re mine to love,
And mine alone.
Lazily perched on the neighbour’s window,
Stealing glances into the worn white wood.
Their peaked lips carefully carve a trench on the marble pillow -
Parted only for god’s mercy.
My heart twists as drool spills over their porcelain teeth,
Threatening to immortalise their lip trenches.
A knife grazes my ribs, the delicious steel snarls
Rousing them.
Giggling lashes uttering childish secrets
Threaten to fall, leaving behind a piece of them
With me,
And the marble pillow.
They think nobody sees them -
Them and their teary mirror lectures and uneven nail beds;
Them and their butterfly birthmark at the nape of their neck -
But I do.
I’m stuck watching the same person for the rest of time.
I’m stuck embracing the lazy sun every time the birds chirp and pillow turns to marble.
I’m stuck hearing ragged sobs crying unloveable (but hey, at least they listen to SZA at the same time, so it’s not too bad).
They’re hard to love.
But there must be a reason they picked me.
To watch them and their peaked lips,
To watch their fingernails digging into their skin, searching for heavenly revenge and hellish forgiveness,
To watch them tap away incessantly at the screen, desperately searching for a single 'I forgive you'.
To watch them think, while writing heart-twisting, rib-grazing words that hurt me more.
But they’re mine to love,
And mine alone.