i remember the taste of metal in my mouth,
the warmth and the pain of
turning my fiery words
into mountains of ash
years of biting my tongue,
wanting to scream,
yet the smoke chokes my lungs

you’ve become nothing
but fire and wax and regrets.
you’ve become a cautionary tale,
a warning of loving too much too fast
you’ve become a memory
in a long list of lovers, of tragedies

you’ve become nothing
but ash and feathers and bone,
you’ve become a story,
a tale of boys who fell for suns
you’ve become a glimpse,
a moment of clarity that ends all too soon

death,
my friend,
comes for us all in the end.

i cannot take back the words i say
and swallow them up
as to make them sweet for your ears.
i cannot make my pain sweet.
i cannot take the blood and push it back into my body from which it has bled.
i cannot make the bitter taste disappear with lovely words that sound hallow.
i cannot hallow myself out,
make room for your words that push me aside.  
i cannot make room for you,
for your words are a knife to my body,
a scar i cannot heal,
a pain that will never go away.
i cannot write the sweet without the bitter,
i cannot be your poet with my lips sewn shut.

my body’s missing pieces,
and i don’t know
how to fix it,
or fill it
without your embrace.

light shrouded in darkness,
even you couldn’t help it
never once fitting in or sticking out,
always one with the light

always shining bright,
never frowning or ill at ease,
never letting me down,
and i never thanked you