I have emotions
that are like newspapers that
I go for days at a time
trapped in the want ads.
I feel as if I am an ad
for the sale of a haunted house:
ghosts and all.
Richard Brautigan, Revenge of the Lawn: Stories 1962-1970 (via sad-plath)
The Stones From Other Houses
I wonder if houses miss each other.
I wonder if you can hear them creaking at night, in pain for some other structure they once knew.
A view from a window changed forever by a wrecking ball, a storm or a fire. A place where things used to live.
Why would the universe be so cruel, to build two so close to each other, only to take one away?
And what of the house you build, in the ruins?
They say every atom in our bodies was once a part of a star. Maybe I’m not leaving. Maybe I’m going home.
I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you
are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body.
You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she
will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes
that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I’ll go back
to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name.
I have chased off every fool who has tried to sleep beside me
You think it’s romantic to fuck the girl who writes poems about you.
You think I’ll understand your sadness because I live inside my own.
But I will show up at your door at 2 am, wild-eyed and sleepless.
and try and find some semblance of peace in your breastbone
and you will not let me in. You will tell me to go home.
I don’t travel because I want to leave my home. I travel because I need to know why I’m staying.
O So Lonely
While you sit alone.
No one is there
To make your house a home.
Every Iris Is A Voice
We are as lonely as the night; despite the gentle kiss of sunlight, or the sea of masks that we drift along. But, in you I found company. Laughs and ballads that carried us to a home only we could find. When she came along, without having left, you lost all that was said. I tried every language and still you misunderstood. Barriers return and isolation tears me down. Still, all that is left I leave to you because it is only you that I have eyes for; which you could see, if you weren’t always watching her.