Bittersweet Love.

There’s too many mirrors with writings in my room.
A house painted every colour of my dreaded goodbye,
Hindsight to our flames bursting,
Burning out and in of our words.
I cut our pictures down, putting flowers to rest.
Pretending that the abyss of empty silences would fill up.
Throw your hands up,
Tell me I’m gorgeous. Collapse.
My collar bone grazing sunlight at 8 a.m.
Carrying all the rain at midnight to give you away at home.
The bath filled with champagne and dirty laundry.
Drowning in each other,
We once used to save everything with our glances.
You’re on call, on your knees
Then at my throat.
I fade. Like the empathy that used to be your touch.
Guilty eyes. You worship your lies.
Saviour dresses in your closet yet poison in your intentions.
Funny, you always thought I’d stay.
Paranoia creeping into your lungs as I whisper my last words,
Into your ears and out of your arms.
Crippling and clutching onto every emotion at rush
Flooding and sinking you all alone.
You loved me that second,
I sympathised you for every one of them after.
Secrets that we wrote in burnt papers,
One day beyond these mirrors and hills sinking sun,
We’d look at each other and let go.
Maybe then you’ll love yourself first.
For those bittersweet days, I’d leave all over again.

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