Morgan

Morgan Mar 2014

-

I thought a tattoo gun
and different shades of grey
would make me feel like a painting
I thought a cigarette between my finger tips
would make me feel like a poem
I thought if I sat in enough coffee shops
and read enough news articles
I'd be the kind of person
other people wanted to fall in love with
I thought if I lost
ten pounds and took Polaroids
of myself sipping lemonade
in a bathing suit,
you'd wish you hadn't
cracked me open
and picked me apart
every night for three years
of our lives
but the ink made me feel exposed
and the cigarettes made me feel like
I was standing at a truck stop
and the coffee shops were lonely
and the news articles were boring
and I lost more than weight that summer
and I took more than Polaroids
and I drank more than lemonade
and I cracked myself open
and I picked myself apart
and I forgot what I was doing
in the first place
but I couldn't make it stop

Morgan Mar 2014

White Christmas Lights

Your words hung like
White Christmas lights
All along the walls of my bedroom
They got tangled in the sun
And faded away
On summer days
But they kept me up
Every night
In the winter

You wanted to hold the world in your hands
But the edges were sharp
And by the time we graduated high school
You were sick of bleeding

You wanted to hold my waist in your hands
But your hands were opened wounds
And I slipped right through them

You hung yourself
Like the white Christmas lights
That wrapped around your mother's
Front porch in December

You wanted to hold the world in your hands
But your hands were opened wounds
And it slipped right through them

I carry your life on my back
And the weight is breaking my spirit

Morgan Feb 2014

Finding Home

When I was fourteen
And looking for Home
They told me I'd find it
Between lavender walls
And wooden floors
They said it'd smell like
Warm sugar cookies
And fresh hazelnut coffee
They said I'd cry into
The softest of pillows
And wrap my broken limbs
Around the warmest of blankets
But by the time I made it there
The walls were lined in bruises
The floors were cold and calloused
It smelled like cigarettes,
Whiskey
And cherry incense
The pillow I cried into
Would rise and fall
In an uneasy rhythm,
Sometimes breaking off
Into random shaking
And the blanket I wrapped
My broken limbs around,
Often had broken limbs
Of its own
Because
When I finally found Home
It wasn't a place at all
But a boy with bloodshot eyes
And a crooked smile

Morgan Feb 2014

Untitled

I tried to cry
but nothing came
I tried to care
I'm not all there

Morgan Feb 2014

longing in the winter

the coffee in my hand
has got me wired but
i'm running on
nostalgia and
a lack of motivation
it's been snowing for
the past five days
and the shower
is never hot enough
to shake the cold
from my tired veins
my hands are shivering
through the sleeves
of an old sweatshirt
and i'm looking into
the sky with the same
longing in my eyes
you get when you
have to say goodbye
i don't know what it is
i'm missing anymore,
i just always have this
pit in my stomach
like i'm forgetting something
and i need to get away from here

Morgan Feb 2014

fight club

i like the way the cut on your lip
tells all of your secrets,
before you get a chance
to open your mouth
and i like the way
it looks when it's
peaking through
a sea of cigarette smoke;
blood red and
framed in a mutated purple
that cut on the corner
of your bottom lip
just kind of
makes me wanna drink

Morgan Feb 2014

eternity

he interrupted me
in the middle of
an earth shatteringly
pointless story
to tell me i had
a cute laugh,
in a smoke-filled
garage infront of
all of our friends.
i said,
"alright dude
*******"

that night
i slept in the fetal
position with four blankets
and craved his skin so
bad i didn't even notice
that i bit my lip
until the pool of blood
collecting inside the deep ditch
of my gums, began to taste
of hot metal

today he texted me
while i was at work
and asked if he could
bring me a coffee
i looked at myself
in the bathroom mirror,
sighed and told him
we were busy
then i bought a
coffee for myself,
let the bitter sweet
warm liquid
linger on my tongue
and pretended
it was his lips

alone is a state of being
and i have never been alone,
lonely is a state of mind
and i have never been anything but