never fall again

never fall again

the last time we had sex
i could feel how much
you hated me
it oozed out of you
spat out of you
& froze my skin
burning me
the last time we had sex
i knew that you couldn’t
stop wanting me
but that you had forced yourself
to stop loving me
…needing me
the last time we had sex
you couldn’t get away
from me
fast enough
your touch was hostile
your eyes
empty.

never fall again. never feel that pain. that’s where my thoughts are these days. does he even remember me every valentine’s day? probably the fuck not. but here i am. broken-hearted.
always
broken-hearted.

maybe when i’m dead i will stop obsessing over him. or i will just go looking for him in my next life.

ack!
that’s one tattoo i leave out of every self-portrait. the tattoo i got for him…with him. the tattoo that hurt the most. and still hurts.
i think about getting it covered up…turned into something else.
maybe i would if i had some money.
so y’all should buy the book i illustrated so i have money to cover-up a tattoo that won’t let me forget where i left my heart.

fuck me.
we all know i’m never getting rid of this tattoo.

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casting my spell

i mixed the wax
melted it fast
yellow for communication
(i just wanted to hear his voice)
blue for protection
(i’m not sure this is a good idea)
red for love
passionate love
(maybe i should have skipped the red?)
& white for purity
in my intentions
(i just wanted to hear his voice)
in the end though
the candle
is a muddy color
an earth color
“same as my heart,” i think
as i cast my spell
i dip the wick
& dip it again
the needle intertwined within
& the candle that forms
from the muddy wax
looks like a potato
a sad potato
“same as my love,” i think
as i cast
my spell.

i keep showing up naked in these self-portraits. dude. i am rarely nude in real life. maybe my inner me would rather be naked?
i dunno.
but here i am.
lumpy & nude again.

& seriously, valentine’s day is the worst for me.
all i can do is remember my best…& my most terrible valentine’s day–just a year apart, with the same person.
a million years ago.
the best was when we went and got our matching ear piercings and flew balsa wood planes in the park.
the worst was when he gave me a pair of white doc martin wingtips that i had so so so desired…and i realized he was leaving me.
men always give me the good stuff
when there is something dark
in their heart.