tired stones

it turns out, i don’t remember the feeling - it existed before this empty nested feeling overcoming me, overcasted “you.”
who are you
i feel so differently: you are masked by darkness. it was the middle
we’re wasting our breath
as though harmless
i’m starting to feel your harsh edges as i re-meet the five oclock shadow
dare i step too close to the sensation risen
at the thought my skin your skin our skins meeting as such
once again in the middle. playing middle ground, never certain where we’re spinning as we’re spitting little speeches
our words tones indifferent to our interaction full of nothing.
it’s just empty space we hold together now, these days.
we’re passive non-agressive but i can tell from the way our bodies jolt there
clueless that our minds are saying anything at all
limbs hautled by the bustling brain waves as anatomy waits
man kind, alfa-male (you) never cared to compliment what already
wasn’t there to begin with
so WHY do i stand for this here i know better than to believe
whatever’s between us is something broken
and battered, waitiing at the seams, my hemline (slightly different than yours)
your fly
our bottoms hang looseto state the obvious my hips are wide and rivers can’t mend the tide that
crashed

this shore is sick and i crawl from where i hid

safetly in the cave my heart is sunken
sinking in this rotten ship
our shit is every day secreted
and i am secrets out this thing i am to you is purely skin deep
but you’d weep if you knew so i’ll stand
here i’ll humor you and make you think what i think i want

but lay me down to rest these tired bones so scattered we are scrambled up in images of what we were and who we’ll never see again, goodbye for now for always it hurt to call you by the name for saken (as though this circumstance could be forgiven) you just won’t ever be what one might call a friend.