gizmoyo
it's hard to put my arm through the sleeve of your shirt because it's been a year since i last pulled it out and the smell is hurting my skin and my heart is about to jump out of my chest and i miss you so bad i can't remember how to work my voluntary muscles. i'm wishing my heart would fail along with them and forget how to beat but i've never been very lucky to begin with.
i cried more than ten oceans when you left, and now i'm drowning in them.
you fled so fast i forgot to pack you a lunch for the road.
i hope you don't starve in that big wide world you were always so desperate to see.
i'm running away from everything you left behind, but it's not stagnant and it's always nipping at my heels and i need to get away but there will never be a far enough place. i can still feel your breath trailing down my neck. it smells sweet but it feels like ice against my skin. i'm taking off, but you're not here to see it.
i can't find your lips anywhere, but i lie awake at night imagining the warmth grazing along my neck like sun rays finding chilly goosebumps. every morning i forget what that feels like and move on with a day i don't want to be responsible for. tears fall in sync with the sunset because it's another end to another day and you are still not here.
When I really wanted to, I forgot how to die. I'd been dreaming of it for half of my life, and when it came down to it, I could only remember how to hang on.
The stillness of his smile was unsettling. It was kind of like the pictures of those clowns, the gesture looking empty and hollow. Maybe he had smiled too much in his life, and his face had grown to stay that way. In fact, she had never seen him without the lift of his lips, and she realized for the first time how much she hated it.
The desolation he felt started like a fire in the pit of his stomach. It hardly registered as more than a tingle of sparks, and it quickly built into something that ate away at his core, took away all of the flowers he had planted there for later use.
His lips were sultry. His lips were everything to do with the word. His lips were like sun ripened raspberries, looking full of sweetness and a subtle hint of sincerity. They were like ice cream on a hot day, drops dripping down thin fingers that wanted to roam everywhere.