"I love you so much"
is scrawled in the dust of my TV.
Every time I roll over and see the
motivation, my lip curves-
I feel you in what was a tent, now a house,
constructed in me.

A full house to clean,
I can't even keep the dust off my TV.
Your lips press onto me
and I swear I can feel every
glass window shatter in rooms of my knees.

I'd pick up the glass with my bare hands
just so you
could see the daylight through the pieces
in the morning.

Sometimes I let the storms tear down my walls,
allow visitors to leave the stove on a little too long-
and I push myself to the weeping willow to vanish.
You notice the lights are off and I am thrown in the wagon,
pulled back home to safety.
I don't mean to be so selfish,
thinking that I matter out there when graced
under the vines of Mother nature.

You are my comfort zone,
my bed on a sick day,
and I love you more than any of these words.

Disconnected by the root, wasting
our time between sheets instead
of between conversations You kept
yourself in backwards hats and vague
excuses to the questions I was asking.
I lit myself on fire, extinguished the flame
in the shower after we finished, cursing
at the droplets sliding down the curtain.
***** this! and ***** that after you ******* me
into the enjambment that was your free space—
your convenience. I fit only if you push, I matter
only if it’s after midnight and the world
outside your door and bed frame
doesn’t have to know. In the daylight,
I’m a ghost that you always see. I’m the ruby
spotted from the corner of your eyes, the shine
that hurts to look at, but no one can know.
Of course. No one can know the way your mouth
rests between sighs or how your eyes lock
into mine when your bruising the inside of my thighs.

I’m the extra beer in your back pocket.
I’m the ***** in the towel who’s promising
her better self that she won’t go again,
that she won’t allow herself to try to patch
the promise from too long ago. The relationship,
shattered early, that mended itself crooked,
that became a book thrown at the wall
and a sweet, dissipated call. I’m the secret solemnly kept
at night when you’re drunk and ugly and begging
for some beauty to curl up next to. I’m the last line
in the best country song, the whisper
you scream for when I’m gone.

He asks, "define emotion?"

In my own state of carelessness,
I give him the answer he never wanted

Happiness, is driving 115 in a 65 MPH zone
Not caring,
Because a part of you wants to die young anyways
A part of you is dead already
But that is your secret
And no one needs to know,
All the aspects that you will never show.

Desperation, is the feel of a sharp knife,
Gliding against ****** skin like an experienced lover
Giving release without slicing too deep.
A smear,
A mark,
A badge of ******* honor
Because you flirted with death and made it out alive.

Stupidity,  is the freedom found at 16
Driving through a coastal city
As the first cold front shimmies it's way through the trees  
Illegally smoking cigarettes
With a half bottle of ***** rolling around underneath the seat
It was always *****,
It just had to be

Pleasure begins in a clever little pill
It was almost too much,
Sublime in nature....
Dangerous in reality
But it made you feel good
And for once
Everything was ok

Reality is the writing of my transgressions
Like I haven't a care in the world who reads them.  

I'm flawed...
Why is this such a surprise to you?

© 2014 Peach

before you walk out the door,
would you make sure
to leave all my love behind?
before you turn the car on,
would you check to see if your heart's gone,
if you even had one in the first place?
before you call to say you want me back,
would you think about how i would attack
myself when you left?
before you break my heart again,
would you stop and think of ten
reasons for me to love you once more?