The Catastrophe

The catstrophe of her anatomy

Is the man who no longer loved it.

 

The man who no longer loved me,

Stood high and mighty with a smile that spoke

he only wanted midnights,

no sunsets

 

his taste

consisted of bad boy and great sex

this man

held sunrise beneath his New York fitted

Eyes brewed stories like a writer who defeated a week without talent.

 

I knew from sight,

the moment eyes cradled upon skin

that sin would commit beneath our intimate sky

my name

on repeat as his favorite line

lips

speaking language of midnight

harbored the words

your are mine.

 

i shined

like a buttered star centered in the prescence of his his naked sky

to only half dim

by the arrival of sun

one night our souls

stood exposed in the thick air that shared the heaviness of our convictions

and this was just the beginning of my addiction

he made love

like it was tradition.

 

our skeletons knew enough about bones

and creating home in history

so we made love in deep caskets

it was desire

brewing fire in the emptiness of our torso

it smelt of roses and fresh coffee

and good morning

after a great fucking night

and i liked it that way

 

feelings like this

bring out the best metaphors and poems

that are really confessions

forged love letters

that never made it to the mailbox of your chest

felings like this

bring out the greatest daylight of each morning i wake

with your body next to my body

it brings out the best dreams

best thoughts

and smiles

and nightmares my mind wears

for how beautiful fears of loving your pretend to be

 

but it did not fucking last

you finally woke took your shit and walked past

and there's not a time that don't tick

when i don't remember how your head once laid

on the arch of back

the curve of my hips

 

this boy loved like it was temporary

fucked unordinary

yet i still claimed he love me

 

i walked into morning with the ambiance ruined like it never exsited

intertwined with my bedsheets

i tried scraping your image out my mind

but it kept coming back

and you were never coming back

 

but it's okay.

 

the catstrophe of her anatomy is the man who no longer loved it,

the man

who no longer loved me.

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