bitter-sweet

i close my eyes,
and beg to forget
the stars we watched that night
the way the moon looked
hiding beneath the mountain

i feel dirty
like the sweat on my brow
the mud beneath my fingertips
hasn’t been there for years
and won’t be there for years to come

you are the weaver
unwind the thread on a silver spool
all for the sake of
destroying something beautiful

they say
poetry is a craft of the slow things
built for the ones who can find it in themselves
to find not only their breath
but the soft rise and fall of the earth
as it exhales

these are the things i wish to be
slow and silent, not haunted by the ghost world outside
i used to be precious, i used to be content in my small room,
filled with big dreams
i used to be a lot of things

“a real person,”
she sings,
and the feeling is a waterfall,
spilling

someone to be
fully human
not this pale, fraught girl with the world on her shoulders

there are many things in this world i used to love
because they reminded me of my darkness,
a dim fire i hid from the world
but i unleashed them when you gave me the chance
i let loose when i realized i wouldn’t lose you
and the cold echo of who i used to be reverberates off the hallows’ body
as your hovering over me,
over her,
does it all feel like a blur?
don’t i know it well?

well,
you’re not the only one
who catches fire
in a grin
hoped to
throw ashes
to the wind
drown the old me
and the pages she wrote

her name was Eve,
she wrapped herself in a blanket of roses
and fell asleep under the sun
punished for never knowing love
and the sweet, bitter taste
it leaves on your tongue